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horizontal God

I lay next to God all day yesterday. Her name is actually Kyrie. Which does mean God, in Greek. She is my younger daughter. So, ok, yeah, not that God. Still, she is as much a spark of the divine fire, as much an illimitable moment of immanent God, as the rest of us.

She was sick. Very feverish. And already, at just twelve years old, she told me the night before, “I’m fine, really. I can go to school. I need to. I’ve got two tests!” Is all of this drive, this hustle, this pressure in our lives immanent in us as well?

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to each their l)a own

“Mom, what’s your favorite poem?” Larkin asked this question dutifully, though with a slight whiff of resignation as well. My daughter’s 6th grade English teacher had assigned them the task of asking their parents this, and of bringing it in. She knew, though her teacher did not, just how much she was getting into. I am into poetry the way her friends are into pop stars. Books of poetry litter nearly every surface in our home. I carry at least three poems in my wallet at any given time, where the “big” bills should go, because I consider poetry to be the most valuable of currency. But, the kid in front of me was only twelve. She had two tests to study for. I figured, “Go easy on the kid!” And, I was thrilled that only one poem was coming to mind anyway, a really really short one.

“Sure, Honey! It’s an E. E. Cummings poem, and it only has four words! Here, let me show you!” With endearing stoicism, she followed me to my office. I found the poem and printed it out in large font:

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feel the felt, uncool the cool

And sometimes enlightenment just shows up on our doorstep.

Usually small, often lumpy or a little misshapen, very sweet and invariably a bit uncool, and almost always soft because of its many iterations through many hands and many hearts. Think Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. Or that new little soul on the block who reallyreallyreally wants to be friends. Or, in my case, a sacred splat of felt.

My dogs barked. A new friend, unheard by my unhearing ears, departed. And I stayed at my computer, because I am writingwritingwritingwriting about my spiritual path, which I am realizing is my diffident way of admitting that I am seeking enlightenment…. which just sounds so presumptuous, doesn’t it?

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truly more better

Things that are Relevant…

Generosity

Kindness

Warmth

Laughter

Gratitude

Graciousness/Grace

Balance

Beauty

Six years ago, I scribbled that list. Then, from the word Beauty I drew a squiggly line down the page to the title of a second list, Things that are more Complex…

Honesty

Health

Freedom

Truth!!

Not one, but two exclamation points. Truth is always a tricky business, and a fraught one for those of us who have turned away from the religions of our families and tribes in search of something seemingly “more” true. Religious fans of the pronoun “the” attached to “truth” seem to either pity us more-ians as hopeless floaters in a bardo of spiritual relativity or denigrate us as somehow less spiritual because we are apparently less “sure” of our beliefs. What about seeing and sensing divinity IN ultimate unknowability? What about something that is not a “The,” but a forever unfolding, being the belief?

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the blog of Anne Elizabeth Wynn. Copyright © 2004–2010. All rights reserved.

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