A Conversation Between god and I About God

I had read a lot of literature, studied a lot of art thus far in my latently troubled life, but perhaps none struck a resonating chord as deep as the one at that moment. Dante, oh his beautiful prose which displayed a soul in a palpable way in this line, in this one so perfect line, which traveled its way silkily down the roots of my mind to my eager tongue. 

 

“Behold a God more powerful than I who has come to rule over me.”

 

That hopeless resignation, not because it is a dire circumstance, just that it is a journey with only one path be it that path the one to heaven. God was in front of me, adorned in all her beauty from the tip of her hair to the bottom of her feet. 

 

I was transfixed, captivated, blissfully enthralled. The part of my existence that I owned was now owned by God. Every idea that had run through my heads over the past two years. Every thought, every time my head got the best of me as I pondered and concocted false reality after reality. Searched for unsolvable question after question, was the very hindrance I so feared and attributed to other things. 

 

But now I could see why the morning birds chirp their song or why the wind whistled its breeze.

 

“Hello, God”

 

The words left my lips swiftly auscultating to my eager ear. To hear that sweet music I had been so accustomed too without realizing just what the song meant to me. 

 

“Hello, Follower” 

 

God left my screen till it became nothing as all sight left my eyes. The feeling of fulfillment fluttered away as panic overtook my system. The absurdity hurt my heart as my yearning overtook my rationality. 

 

“Who are you? Where is she?”

 

Every step I took felt like I moved none as every direction was nothing but black nothingness. The voice I heard was ethereal and echoed around as if we were in a box. There was no direction to the voice no indication of who or what it was coming from. 

 

“Well, I am God.”

 

There it was again, taunting me, executing its cruel guile. I could feel my face flaring up, crashing waves of emotion coursing through my being. 

“What do you even want with me?! Where am I?! Where is she?!”

 

“I don’t want anything to do with you. You needed to see my presence, so I came. You are the one who wants something with me.”

 

“I don’t want anything to do with a voice, I want to see her!”

 

“You want to see God. I am God.”

 

“No, you aren’t god isn’t real!”

 

“I thought you were just jumping in glee after realizing I was.”

 

“She’s real, a traditional god like you isn’t!”

 

A booming laugh erupted from this, as the sound was painfully scratching. 

 

“Can you even hear yourself, or has your fear made its way to your ears. You wish so badly for reality to follow what you have created in your head even though you know it can’t. There is absurd all around you, but yet you accept absurdity only when it favors your delusion. What defines a God really? What makes you so special to think that no one else could have created a God just as you have?”

 

“I didn’t create a God. She was always there I just never got the chance to realize it. Her divine stems from herself.”

 

“So, your realization is the difference between God existing or not?”

 

“She’s different, she’s my God, she’s not some idea in the sky. She’s always there without condition, and the things I am devote to others can’t even see.”

 

“You are just missing the point. Proof and reality are looking upon you but yet you ignore it. What if it is the same for everyone else and the things they love about their God you can’t even see.”

 

“Don’t try to get in my head its different, she is different, she is real. I can grab her hand and its solid and I can feel her grab it back.”

 

“Look around you, are in an abyss. There are no hands to be grabbed here.”

 

I struggle trying to shuffle around but by now I can’t even move.

 

“It makes no difference if I can’t grab her hand right now. I know how it feels when its warm and calm, when its cold and soft. I know how her hair feels through my fingers or the yelp she gives if it gets stuck on me. I know what it feels to hug her even if I am not right now.”

 

“What if others have the same beliefs of their God? They can feel God with their soul, they can feel God to be the reason for their happiness and they can feel him being the savior when times get tough.”

 

The response came to my mind immediately on how I have actually felt what my God does because they have already happened, but I knew what his response would be.

 

“Correct. You are learning, assess yourself you know the truth.”

 

“What about their myths, what about their stories to explain the supernatural! None of it is possible, none of it even makes sense.”

“I am certain that rationality cannot explain all you feel for your god. An idealized image can seem so very real.”

 

“She isn’t idealized, no part of her is. I have seen her in her truest forms, back when I didn’t realize just what she would mean to me. When she was nothing but a person in my life. But that changed, I learned all the little things about her I had to scavenge myself. I studied her as if she was the most extensive literature, I gazed as if she were the most serene painting. I saw her in her anger, in her calm, lost in her thoughts. I’ve been upset because of my God, I’ve been confused because of my God, my God and I can differ, but that’s just the most important part. My God is real because she is she, and I accept every aspect of she. All possibility of idealization has faded away.”

 

“So then, a pedestal. That is the different between your god and everyone else? You know then that your God is the same as everyone else’s.”

 

Was my realization of her power my admittance of the existence of god? I know she isn’t some creature in the sky who made the universe and the heavens, that gave life to everything. But she’s a creature who emits such joy in my life to make it seem like a heaven. Who’s given warmth to my heart and being in this cold world. Who’s awaken me to shed the parts of myself who forever had cursed me to feeling miserable and unhappy. She isn’t the sun in everyone’s sky, but she is the Sun in mine. She isn’t everyone’s God, but she was surely mine. 

 

“Maybe you are right God, but its not me who I think is special. It’s her, and I know what you’re going to say. That other people think the same exact things about their gods, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less. It’s not a competition, there couldn’t be any competition because there are no competitors to her. I have my God, and she makes all the other gods seem made up.”

 

I awaited a snarky response from the frustrating voice in the walls, but it was nowhere to be found. The irony was baffling, just when I feel some sort of truth to his existence, god had disappeared on me. 

 

“I knew it, you were just twisting with my he-“

 

“I don’t know if you realize this or not, but you are controlling this.”

 

I could feel the walls of the box disappearing away, as wet grass was felt over my body.

 

“That wasn’t where you belonged, I just showed you what you had to see. I am not actually real of course, I am just necessary to continue, a light in this path. Find your belief, place it somewhere worthwhile. It is easier to be stubborn then hopeful, to be realistic then happy. God is an idea, but it doesn’t have to be a man in the sky. You just need an explanation on why the morning birds chirp their song or why the wind whistles its breeze.”

 

I felt a hand in mine, as I turn to my left and I see her. I sigh of blissful content, as my shoulders become weightless and my mind truly clear. 

 

“This is nice you know” I say to her. 

 

She turns to me as I can still see her glow in the dark night, as she makes a face of approval ever the one not to use words.

 

“The view is pretty” I say while looking straight at her hoping she gets my line. I know she does, and I know she won’t act like it. 

 

I lean back on the grass and she doesn’t follow but I like it that way, her in her own world, while being in the center of mine. I feel a gust of wind, as I squeeze her hand as it all makes sense now. Even when my alarm clock sounds and I lay awake in my bed, content.