|| this too is god

I am permanently supported and witnessed. Not one second of my life has been missed. Not one part of my process is a mystery to the sky.

You see all of this, right?

That is the opening line to most of my talks with god these days. I said it out loud again last month, lying in the grassy fields I grew up exploring, a few hours after my mama told me that she's worried about my son being raised in the environment I'm creating. Though she didn't say the words out loud, I have spent almost forty years memorizing that woman's heart -- her frame of reference for god is still one of fire and brimstone positioned a natural extension as perfect love. The words she could not say were likely something akin to, "That boy is going to go to hell if he doesn’t find his way to Jesus, and it's going to be on you for not giving him every chance to."

I wish I could say my mind didn't trip on that. It did, though. Not because I'm even a tiny bit worried about the possibility of a god whose love can coexist with eternal conscious torment, but because there are still younger versions of me who ache for her witness and approval. My tender baby parts would do anything to assure her of the absolute sacredness of my life these days, just to hear her tell me that she understands, that she's proud of me.

But she doesn't, and she's not. As much as she loves me, she is not proud of many of the parts of my life that I am most fond of, that I have worked the hardest to cultivate. She's not proud of the wild and expansive and unconventional way I put love at the center of my life. There is so very much about me that she has to close her eyes to. So much she can’t risk seeing.

So I return to god for a sense of secure attachment, for depth of being known. God, in all their embodiments.

I lie down in the dry, yellowing grass under the wide blue sky, knowing that both are just a manifestation of god. The earth supporting me, the sky witnessing me. I am permanently supported and witnessed. Not one second of my life has been missed. Not one part of my process is a mystery to the sky.

I snuggle my kiddo close, feel his arms wrap around me in a tight hug with a few sporadically placed back pats, knowing that he is a manifestation of god. His grey-blue eyes see me in the very best and very worst of my moments, and I am steadied by the unconditional nature of his love for both my divinity and my humanity.

I close my eyes in a particularly intimate moment with a lover, literally hide as waves of pleasure vulnerability wash over me, knowing that he too is a manifestation of god. He anchors my body to his, touches my face until I can look him in the eyes again, reminds me that it is safe to fully exist with him, that holding me in my entirety is a privilege he does not take lightly.

I sit on the patio and talk to the sycamore tree, tell her how grateful I am for her constant presence and completely lack of judgment, knowing that she is a manifestation of god. She sits quietly and somehow, no idea how, asks me good questions that make me think maybe she has a soul of her own, a way of communicating. I answer her, and I walk away knowing my own heart more intimately, grateful for the ways she gives without asking for anything in return. The perfect space holder.

I listen to a song that feels like a conversation I've had before, articulates things I have always felt but never said, knowing music is a manifestation of god. I feel fresh gratitude for the ways art has saved me over and over and over again, seen me and embraced me and loved me and taught me, folded and unfolded me, worn deep creases into the fabric of my being. My first love, and almost certainly my last.

I watch the morning light play across fabric of my bedsheets and create a whole world of its own, knowing it is a manifestation of god. I see myself in the ways it never takes the same shape twice. Forever new, every single second -- always open to the influence of the world around it, and yet always having its way with the environment. Mutual exchange creation, always.

This is where I find my stability these days. In the infinite manifestations of god, the way each is as potent as the next, the way god and I just keep seeing each other. Over and over, on repeat.

You see all of this, right?

Yes, my love. I see you. I understand you. I'm proud of you. I love you.