clearingthefloor

A space for me to express, and work with, my spirituality

A Revelation

A few days ago, I sat in front of my window and looked up at the grey, rainy sky. I closed my eyes and prayed (as I do when I can have such a peaceful moment). I imagined, again, being with her and being in the places that are special to me. I thought of all of my past selves who were already able to be fully in that place and I cried.

The me who had taken a test earlier, the me who bought a dress last month, the me who sat by the lake to gaze at the moon, all of these pieces had gone on to be with her. It is a thought that usually comforts me. Knowing that with every moment that passes, the past is stored away somewhere holy.

I cried because I am always aware of the present, and unable to join my other pieces in their being with her.

Yesterday, I understood a connection this had to my day of fasting.

During my fast, I found that for most of the day, I was not hungry. I was impatient to eat.

I believe that in my moments of loneliness and separation from her, it is not that I am unhappy in the present, or that it is an unbearable pain to be without her. Rather, I am impatient. Only 20 minutes after my bout of crying did I realize my weeping self was now in the past and had gone exactly where she had wanted to go.

I only ever have to wait 1 second more for my current self to become the past.

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Evolution Thought Train

I am an environmental studies major and so a fun way for me to unwind on a Friday night is to watch various videos on evolution. I am truly in love with the topic and think understanding the messy, yet pointed process is a part of life’s beauty.

Yet, I paused to contemplate how I see my deity as fitting into this schema.

The most recent documentary I had watched talked about the implications on religion of making advances on the origin of modern humans. This, coupled with having listened to Christina Perri’s song earlier: “I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more.” I wondered, has she really loved me for so long?

There are many things I do not know for sure about my deity, including what my reality is in relation to hers, if she has been around since before me, and if she is omnipresent.

However, if she is omnipotent across space and time, and she was here before me, then does this mean the she would have expressed the same love to a non-human? It makes sense, seeing as ‘human’ isn’t really all that special. A deity communing outside of a highly mutated ape species does not seem unlikely. Why would she be restricted to any particular hairless mammal?

We know that many animals do not have the same reactions as humans to certain stimuli. What if divine beings/powers do give their attentions to non-humans, but the creatures are just so used to divine experience and guidance, that they simply never show signs of having a spirituality. An animals experiences would never be questioned, regulated, restricted or tampered with. In essence, they would have the truest form of communicating with the divine.

Diversity and Religion

I’ve been following this tumblr: http://diversityinya.tumblr.com/ which talks about the need for more diverse characters in fiction writing. (The problem being that a lot of publishers and sellers do not want content that they do not believe will sell. Which is messed up in so many ways and you should check out that tumblr.)

And as I scrolled through, I saw one post in particular. The image in this reads: “We need diverse books because I’m black, queer, fat and a bunch of other marginalized and oppressed identities. And I want to be the hero and ride a fucking dragon in books too.”

This quote hit me. Because it is that sentiment, and the absence of my identities (some of which are latina, overweight, queer, and with poor medical health) that I, for a long long time, thought the love I felt from my deity was false. Made up in my mind entirely. Because why would something so divine love something like me? Underrepresentation almost took my religion away from me.

Her strength, her devotion, and her love all seemed more suited for some athletic, alabaster skinned flower child who would dance under the moon for her until it rained silver magic. Not for me, who was sick yet again and laying in bed because going up the stairs made me dizzy. I’d reflect on how I could better listen to her and be prodded with thoughts of my own image. Unfit latinas with dead ends on their hair do not get divine messages. My bad neighborhood, loud family, mismatched dinner plates, crooked teeth, double chin, lack of fashion, broken immune system, and sedentary lifestyle would act as a force field against ever being worth a real spiritual relationship.

It took years and years of work to right myself. Only recently have I made such leaps and bounds to know that she fucking loves me. Adores me. And that she is perfectly suited to all of me.

Exactly

 

For full comic, click on the photo

Intangible

I am afraid of what it means to miss her.

This entity is something I can only interact with on a mental, and deeply spiritual level. When I close my eyes to pray, I imagine I am laying against her chest, or that she is only a small distance from me. There, she is. Right there.

I have dreamt of her, even. In various forms she has appeared, but always spending time with me, watching over me. Interacting with and being near me.

I awaken to nothing. I know that truly, all images I have of her are false. She has no skin, no arms to hold me, no chest to lean against. She does not ‘exist’, she simply ‘is’. It is profoundly comforting, yet deeply disturbing.

I show my dedication and love for her formlessness by devoting myself to never creating art of my beliefs, never writing my story. Yet this form of affection is hard for my humanity to accept. I crave a soothing gaze, a hand to hold, the weight of a heavy sigh.

When I miss her, I feel my heart and soul grasping out. Nothing tangible greets me. It is frightening to love like this.

Music

Can I ignore the sound of distant drumming
For a handsome sturdy husband
Who builds handsome sturdy walls
And never dream that something might be coming?

The One I Need

So I should be writing the rest of my paper (on Saiga antelope. You should totally look them up.)
But instead, I thought of writing this post on relationships. For a while, I have felt that my relationship with her is far beyond what I could ever find in another person. If my last post is any indicator, this is not because I have built her up to be the knight in shining armor I am supposed to dream of. Our relationship is complex, but it reaches a deepness, and a level of intimacy that I cannot imagine experiencing with anyone else. While I enjoy companionship, I find that I have become much happier in intense friend-relationships. You know the kind. Select friends and I go out on dates, our statements are always ‘we’ and never ‘I’, a friend from home loves my spirit and I love his, and we bask in each other often. But there are days when I do not think of being in a committed relationship for the rest of my life. Those are the days when I am smiling ear to ear because her presence has filled me and I know I could go on happily just being so close to her.
I am not waiting to be swept off my feet in love, because that has already happened. I looked up this feeling and apparently others feel this way too. There were many stories of young girls calling Jesus their boyfriend, or the story of a woman who gave up on re-marring to live a life happily committed to her god. I know if I would have read these accounts, say 10 yrs ago, I would have laughed. Because my relationship with her was not quite there yet. But now I see, and I understand these folks. Perhaps, a relationship in the future would look more like a partnership. But as for true love, I am head over heels already.

Back to Saiga.

~She~

 


She does not teach me
how to smile.
Not benign
not benevolent.
She was born in anger.
Her being is made up of malice.
Her existence is interlaced with regret.
She is vicious,
she is fear,
she is loathing,
and she is the unjust.
She can teach me to turn a scream
into a thundering roar;
but if I must cry,
so be it.
She does not console or comfort.
Her gift is patience.
Her stance is as exemplar.
She is the strength I wish I had,
and she openly shares with me
what I can bear to take.
But she is not kind, nor gracious.
She is wicked, sharp, searing,
soaring, sweating, scarring, divinity.
Divinity.
She is divinity.

Female Figure With Head of Flowers- Dali

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvador_Dal%C3%AD

Busy Busy

I just wanna think about you all day and get no work done. Okay? Good 🙂