One day, God decided He was kind of bored. Being Omnipotent and Omnipresent isn’t all that exciting if you’re the only One that knows about it. So God decided to build Himself some playmates.
Now God – who is an all-or-nothing kind of Being – got to work right away. He imagined a world of danger and beauty. He imagined lovely landscapes and frightening thunder storms. He wanted raucous noises and scary animals. He felt like making gorgeous trees and whimsical flowers. His imagination was active and fertile, once He figured out he was going to build His own play town.
And so He worked. He worked all through the night, and then He decided to make day, so He could keep working but see what He was doing better. And He kept going. Oceans, chimpanzees, sea anemones, volcanoes, bats. Animals on top of things, critters underneath, and everywhere around: wind, air, song and scent.
God is sometimes a bit intense, and also a workaholic. He didn’t have to make so many of the things in the ocean beautiful; most that stuff never gets seen, or played with. But he likes stripes and polka dots and glow in the dark motifs, so everything has the chance to be strikingly gorgeous. Except for hyenas. Poor things. They must have really pissed Him off somehow. And God being the workaholic type, He isn’t prone to taking coffee breaks. He’d made the beans by this point, but not the Mr. Coffee drip pots. But He wanted a chance to view His handiwork and pat Himself on the back, and He really needed a break. So in order to make Himself feel better – less guilty for just hanging around when He could be working on the next batch of Alien Life Forms – He created allergies. Everyone knows that when allergies hit, you’re not worth anything. All you can do is sleep, whine, sniff, and flip the remote control button a thousand times per minute. Now, God didn’t have a remote, but He did have the allergies; so He just sat and sat on the seventh day, reclined back in His cloud-stuffed LAY-Z-BOY, surveyed His creation, and had a good nap.
And that’s why you get nothing done during ragweed season.
God seems like a ghost
from a dream
he always wants more
always asking for
toss him a bone.
throw in all my own self
give away all my
to feed the complex
of a god who says
how strong can he
if my little life
breaks him down
and makes him
little ole me?
am i that much of a threat?
so he yells and
gnashes his teeth
while i go have
and wait for the
night to come.
I won’t be beaten into submission by a God that is afraid of my emotional outbursts.
I won’t be tricked into complacency by a religious system that prefers numbness to the powerful and electric moments of raw feeling that occur in the NOW.
I can’t be forced to relinquish my passion, my drive, or my intense longings for love, beauty, or oneness with my fellow man.
And I don’t think I should have to give these things up.
I refuse to believe that spiritual enlightenment comes at the cost of my emotional self.
I fiercely believe that any God, Being or Universe that is worth being worshipped should be able to handle the divine, explosive, caustic, curious and intense soul that is me.