Tag Archives: God

just a minute…

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"At the end of the Universe" by Keven Law

“At the end of the Universe” by Keven Law

 

I believe in so much right now it hurts. It’s just that before I was so wrapped in the bonds of motherhood, of tending and mending, that I hadn’t time to really see much past the tiny socks littering the floor. The tantrums and tum tums were a mandatory, albeit adorable, distraction from all things personal for so long that although I tried to reach past the crazy and into a writing mind, I was frantic with it. Then I was overwhelmed and ornery and grieving the me I wouldn’t ever, never be (all things look impossible from a distance).

Then I found God.

Ah-ha! Right. Me. Cynic. Honorary naysayer of The Good Book. I did not say what god. Here he/she/it/they/we/were/was/are. Here is God: self-awareness; visibility to true desire and a sloughing off of fear. Names get in the way. Prescriptions. Sizes vary as does taste. God to me is one great and powerful self-fulfilling Oz. When does the heroine/hero find the golden egg/ticket/pineapple? When she/he believes (squiggly line. squiggly line) and then she/he goes on to find out it was right there all along. Duh-duh!

There’s all this magic out there and we’re so busy filling our pockets with sand. This crazy thing happens every time I give in and say–Fine, yeah, I know what I really want from this life. I find peace. I find time to do the things that matter to me. I forget about all that judgement and ugliness that can bear down so heavy on a person they think no good will ever come, not never and I drag my sorry ass up and out. I wish I knew how. I wish I knew anything other than what makes me feel good, what gives me the strong, hard-worn belief that Anything Is Possible. But I don’t. I just believe. Isn’t that what God really is?

 

On Solstice and Pocket Lint

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I have a huge appreciation for this moment, ice water, and heat. Old wooden crates. Typewriters and ink. Tattoos inching in hyper-detailed increments down a twenty-year old back. Hot sauce, hollandaise and horseradish cheese.

I feel minutes like this creeping just out of sight, where the peripheral sneaks off behind and away. Fleeting, they call it, like a glimpse of something imperfect enough to be just the right kind of beautiful.

Today is the summer solstice–a series of moments layered one atop another, stretching light between dawn and eve so far as they might break from one another, snapping clean off, and in need of a mend. Maybe this is how every day breaks from the others, along a perforated line at midnight in God’s back pocket.

And God, or Gods, or Goddess, or Goddesses–You are singing today with the high wind shrieking, a tantrum of Nature, while we move from house to house, forgetting you in the grass and high energy spectrum of our own immediate lives.

You are too much for us to eat and drink. Too fast you fill us with your own hot breath. If we notice you noticing us, we flush pink to red, burning in our embarrassment that we weren’t doing something better with our time than changing the sheets or feeding our own need to be heard.

 

 

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