Some people have difficulty conceiving of God, of believing in God. I know. Here is my conception of God, borrowed from Jung. He said, “God is the name by which I designate all things which cross my willful path violently and recklessly, all things which upset my subjective views, plans, and intentions and change the course of my life for better or worse”.

To which I will add, God is the magic in the moment, the spirit in the spritzer. Goosebumps when we know something extraordinarily unusual and unique is happening. The inner knowing in a situation that would otherwise behoove us. The bird that lands close to us during our most desperate moments. A sudden coincidence that we cannot explain. The colour of the blossoms that catch our eye, the scent of the flowers that suddenly overpower us. The fresh breath of a child as they grasp and hold us without expecting. The pictures just sent from my daughter of her son playing languidly in the beach sand. The lingering moment between sunset and darkness that stirs something within our souls. That is God, and then some. Perhaps those reading could add to this in the comments? That would be nice, and another gift from God.

Is that sort of God difficult to believe in? I don’t think so. To me, that’s just the type of God I need! The one I have been longing for.

And in the end, if you still have difficulty believing, ask God — as a pure act of faith, which just means having great hope really — to reveal himself/herself/itself to you in some special way… he will, if you are open to it and looking for it. The little bird in my description above was just one of many ways he did for me. I feed the birds from my patio. Each spring the Junco’s leave for cooler weather in the deep forests. Each fall they return. One morning, in particular desperation I asked God for a sign, anything, to know that he cared, that he was there. I walked into my living room and there flew down onto my patio the first Junco, returning from the summer. I gasped with unbelief, but soon grasped the belief, the sign. That is beyond coincidence. That’s GOD. If he did it for me, many times, he can for you. Just ask! What have you got to lose? Nothing.

P.S. When Jung was asked one day if he “believes” in God, he answered, “I don’t ‘believe’, I KNOW! (that God exists), because of his life-long experiences. At this stage of my life, I can say the same.

Spring Rain

Evening draws nigh. Darkness descends. Outside, a robust late spring rain cleanses, washing the landscape, the fresh trees, the city street’s, folks passing by. Fresh, cool air. I love this time of year. The evenings are tepid, neither cold nor hot. Just right. Comfortable, you know?

I haven’t written for a long, long time. What excuse can I give, should I give? I have no excuse other than confessing the frailty of my soul, the weakness of my being, my utter, bloody humanity. Yet, tonight’s writing is a good sign. Evidence, that at least a man such as I can come back from the brink. From the brink of destruction, from the brink of despair, the brink of desperation and rise from the ashes.

Something within me is singing, resonating, shining with a glimmer of hope, hope realized, come true even. Is this God? I’d like to think it so. What else, what other power outside or within, could resurrect a disintegrated spirit? If there is a God, then certainly this is it.