Become a Follower of the Big Dude!

Meet the divine Dude in this blog. This Dude has had and seen his share of sacred shit. He's not afraid of it or of its language. I can't relate to a god that's been crucified, but I can relate to one whom my government has imprisoned and humiliated. I can relate to one who's been raped by his own holy men. I can relate to one who grew up playing baseball or soccer and who dated the Prom Queen. I can relate to the god who knows the working of corporate conglomerates, pimps, and teen-age girls who are pregnant. I can relate to the god who loves alcoholics and drug addicts just a tad more than wall street hotshots. This Dude thinks all of us are mortal particles in an ocean of sacred shit. This Dude recycles.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Evening, Morning and the First Day

So, in order to get myself out of my head, out of the media, out of political crap, I call to mind creation myth.  In Genesis 1:3-5, the writer speaks of evening, morning and the first day.  It's the moment in that creation story when the big bang is happening and it all begins.

I always walk or sit outside in the evening at this time of year because I know that which I experience as God albeit nature, Universal Intelligence, the Big Due or Allah is present.  The weariness and worries, the sacred shit of the day pauses in that moment between day and night.  The light is golden through the trees, coming at me sideways.

"That moment brings me home to myself and whenever I'm home, the god is there.

 Speaking of god, I went to a new church last weekend and the minister sat with the children on the floor.  She said: God has many names.  What name do you want to call God today?"  A little girl said, "Rainbow."  The church members without hesitation began to pray:  "Our Rainbow who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . . ." I knew I was home in that church and God (aka Rainbow) was there.

These are desperate times in the world and that means desperation lives in human hearts as well. Sometimes we have to unpack all the trappings and go back to the center, to the first moment to find ourselves.  Wordsworth writes: "The world is too much with us."  If it was too much with Wordsworth who only had his feet and a few books to infiltrate his soul, imagine how much it is with  us who are plugged in to a never-ending tsunami of digital diversions.

In the evening and early morning, unplugged, I remember my place in creation.  I come home to the first day.  Roxie