Purpose

Connections form us
Within, deep
Like a notebook that we keep
Faithful rising, like a camp
Singing ’round the fire and lamp
Toes a tapping
Frothy brews
Thoughts and aspirations stew
Haughty, haggard, feet that dance
“Let’s look forward
Not askance.”

So easily we break our song…
And it’s not long before we’re gone
If only we’d remember more
To see the picture
Feel the soar…

But reminders do exist above:
Look not for words –
Only LOVE.

Parallels

A girl stooped down to tie her shoe. She was thinking about God.

Not THAT God. NEVER that God. The other one. The loving one.

She knew He was there. Or He/She. Or it. Whatever the ‘Source’ wanted to be called. There – in that spot that is unknowable, but relatable –  He resides.

She continued on with her walk to get coffee. The buildings surrounded her with weight and substance, but were not quite relevant. Brick and stone mortared to the world they stood, but not rooted.

Yet the more she walked this path in her life, this one she walked every day to get coffee, every day past these same soulless blocks of architecture that loomed overhead, she came to like them. There was a familiarity and ordinariness of how they stood by, in the same places, day after day. They were like the embrace of family for the flesh and bones of the humans that occupied them day after day. Humans who implanted and projected the blank buildings full of meaning and memories. Thus calling them ‘home.’ Because of this, the buildings then grow unseen roots that are not bound to this world, but the world that lives just below the surface. The one of feeling, of emotion and spirit. A world no less real then the one seen with her eyes.

From this, the buildings become something else. Something like an extension of the humans living amongst them. Buildings that cradle them and the humans loving them back. A coexistence of sorts. The humans loved and appreciated these brick blocks in a way that they themselves would not recognize: they loved them by paying them no mind. They loved them because they were not a threat. They loved them because their existence was to help us find meaning and roots of our own by standing by every day, in the same place, accepting and implanting whatever we give them. By reflecting our own meaning back to us.

Is this how God works? she thought quietly.

Does he help us by mirroring our meaning? Does he protect and guide us by being there everyday, offering familiarity and safety, but not interfering?

This was a comforting thought. That God was ordinary and stationery, standing over her day after day, never judging or emoting. Just being there, helping her to find meaning and build purpose and love without her ever realizing.

She smiled to herself and ordered her coffee. She saw the coffee shop with new vigor. New appreciation. All the drab window frames and coffee-stained countertops were now there in a way they were not before. Like they were smiling back.

She put her extra change in the tip jar and went out the door, past the dull bricks and stone, past the other humans, and felt in her a new coziness.

Maybe the cradle of the buildings.

 

sidewalk_thoughts

Lost Connectedness

What is the true meaning – the true purpose – of religion? To find God? To save yourself? To redeem yourself? To have a pathway to morality?

No, I don’t think any of those statements fully captures the main purpose – the real, subconscious drive that lights us up inside and compels us to seek and devote ourselves to any cause or religion. I think it might be more accurate that the main driver is connection.

Connection to God. Connection to others. Connection to this world. Connection to a higher purpose. Isn’t connection just love, as another word?

Again and again I am pulled to the belief that we as humans are inter-connected – a social consciousness. A symbiotic ‘net’ that for some reason does not know of it’s inherent symbiotic ‘net-ness.’ That we are operating in autonomy is an illusion, a conscious construction, because we are really ONE, subconsciously, in the heart.

It seems possible to me that each religion that we have ever seen is only trying to regain that connection. But I think the tragedy here is that because the religion is consciously created, and borne out of the conscious thought preconceptions (that we have lived and been programmed with for millennia) that presuppose that we are separate in the first place, they may be doomed to fall short of that which they ultimately strive for: TRUE connectedness.

True connectedness does not put up walls. True connectedness tears them down. Connectedness does not need religion. Connectedness is connectedness. It doesn’t need rules to engage. It just is.

In my heart I feel that the pervasive illusion of our time is this thought that we are separate. Separate in race, separate in religion, separate in nationality, separate in education, creed, in even morality.  Separateness seems to me a pervasive weed in our collective subconscious – our heart – that is always whispering in our ears that we are different, that they are not us. That seems to me an evil in itself, to use such a strong word. Who put this idea in our hearts?  Who pushes this agenda among us? How did the seed of this thought get incepted in the first place?

Perhaps we were once conscious of our connectedness, in a past time too far back for collective memory to fathom. But somehow, in some way, we’ve let this external world creep up and convince us that there are walls and they were always meant to be there. For our safety. For our benefit.

How can we take down these walls? How can we see the world and ourselves the way we ought to? Maybe we should ask ourselves what we are so afraid of, and then dive deeper into the pool. In order to keep swimming in the face of our insurmountable panic.