One With God

The difference between dust and mud;

a little moisture.

Sweaty feet just in from the garden

leave perfect prints on the laundry room floor;

brown shadows of chubby toes,

ball and heel, the sharp

scent of tomato vine

implied.

Bold yellow zucchini blossoms open

Invitations to any stranger passing by.

Flat green beans filled the basket.

I walked here today and was revived.
 

As I made an attempt at morning pages this morning, I remembered Julia Cameron's thought that coming to the page is a way to come into the presence of god. God. I'm not even sure if I want to capitalize the first letter in that word. My mind immediately began to run the labyrinth of who/what/could god be… In my life this question has been no small matter. Raised Catholic, now UU, there are a few folk near and dear to my heart who are sure that I have gone to the dark side. My concept of god has transformed from a very personal relationship with a few male figures (with a divine mother willing to intervene from time to time) to much more abstract ideas about a loving energy…. something closer to physics than religion.

It's not that I don't long for a relationship with some sort of personal and personality driven deity. Who wouldn't love to have God on their side? But I think that is the problem. The idea of a personal, 'me and you against the world' god implies that god rejects large portions of creation for little old, especially special me is frightening. And in my mind, it doesn't make sense. If god is somehow the driving force behind creation, how could he/she/it reject any of it? It makes no sense and this is essentially why I rejected more theistic approaches to religion. I believe that there is an order to all of creation that cannot be divided into pieces of right and wrong; us and them; man and nature. Our small human squabbles are simply that. Squabbles. As the Buddhists would say, 'monkey mind.'

So what does all of this have to do with my little garden poem? Several years ago I noticed that when I was involved in the process of baking bread, everything else faded away. In those moments of measuring, kneading and shaping, I was fully engaged in the experience. My mind settled. No internal debates, no complaints, adjustments for physical pain made as necessary without commentary. I began to name that experience 'one with god.' And there are more of these experiences. Belly laughs with friends, spontaneous hugs, pulling weeds in the garden, noticing the perfect symmetry of dirty footprints on the laundry room floor. Call it mindfulness, call it flow, call it more secure attachment. I call it one with god. Or simply one. Or simply god. God. In those moments there is no separation from all that is. I let my guard down, I release control. But that is too cognitive. It is usually just something that happens without intent or plan. I think thought in words would probably interfere with the process though using words to mark the moments helps me remember that they happen. The words help me to maintain faith and remember the value of the sensory experiences that speak to me. It is very individual and yet universal. Most of all it is about being fully embodied. No aversion, no clinging…. Just bare feet in a budding garden.