“I like the god” riff


So I’m a fool I don’t believe in god. I don’t believe in your god that is, I won’t even capitalize it. I mean, I do believe in a god, my god – but it doesn’t matter. Not even to my god. It shouldn’t, if it’s really God. So now it only matters if it matters to you, if you believe that logic, your god isn’t the kind that expects worship. You do it for yourself. I believe you do it for yourself because you want to, because it feels good and isn’t something you do because you’re supposed to. Things you do because you’re supposed to make me sick.

But I see God when I realize my life is bathed in beauty, and I can only hold a little, there’s so much. God’s non-conditional, though. You’re going to need it when life gets ugly, too. It’s then you should realize, God doesn’t require worship because it’s not about God, it’s about you. Your god’s the god you make, the same one who made you.

My daughter pops her head up like a prairie weasel from her book, to say ‘hi’ to the iPhone video. That’s God, amen.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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2 Responses to “I like the god” riff

  1. My “g-o-d” has no name. Its name isn’t even “g-o-d” but for ease of communication, let’s just give it a limited name called “g-o-d.” It needs not be anthropomorphized. It does not require a recognizable form, comprehensible story. It knows nothing of all the frills that humans make up. It welcomes all of uncertainties in life. All shades of gray. Where there is love, there it is.



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