One way I’ve come to articulate my experience of God is that God is the arising feelings in my body and heart. God is the inclination to work, to clean, to ask, to rest. There is no arising feeling within me that is not God—none. That means my desire to lie, my desire to steal, my anger, all god. Does this mean I lie, steal and flip out often? Not really. With the full acceptance that all are welcome at my table, those things that I judge or disapprove of finally have a chance to be heard. My anger does not need to be denied, crushed, or hidden. I can hold it, look at it, see where its roots are, what it needs.
A powerful understanding for me is that having an arising feeling does not mean that action is connected to it. Fury may arise, but that does not mean I’m yelling at someone. Happiness can arise, and that does not mean I’m passing out gifts to randoms. The process of the feeling arising and awareness noticing is its own cycle. Once awareness comes, the feeling is passing. Awareness notices the feeling, then something new arises. It may be a feeling again, it may be an action, it may be a new experience, or a sense in the body. But then, awareness comes again, and again it all begins. Each time, a chance to listen to my heart, to listen to God.
A lot of the time, awareness doesn’t see the feeling, or notice what’s happening. Anger comes, action comes, and maybe ten minutes or ten days later, awareness notices. The only difference is that awareness has not been present. Being mindful of the arising feelings does not mean that only then God is there. It only means that another aspect of God, mindfulness, has arisen. If someone steps on my foot and I cuss them out, it’s still God. Maybe if they’d stepped on my foot and I’d noticed pain, taken in the look on their face, and compassion had arisen, my ego would’ve liked my response better—but just because my ego likes something doesn’t signify that that’s God.
When I talk to people about my experience of the Divine, I often get a lot of scared reactions. If everything is okay, then how do I not just become a giant slob smoking pot in my mom’s basement? How am I not just a violent, immoral jackass? Well, I’ll say this: I thought that would happen too. The reason I spent so much of my life controlling, structuring, and monitoring myself to be in alignment with what I decided was good, striving, striving, striving to reach that checklist of righteousness, is because there was part of me that really believed if I didn’t do that, I would be a terrible person. We need morals! We need ideals! We need a checklist to strive for, because if we don’t apply the whip, we’ll fall out of shape. This is what my mind repeated, over and over again.
Slowly, I’ve realized that when I prioritize the checklist, I am denying God. My ego is the ruler, saying that my mind and its ideas know what’s best for me. The arising feelings in my heart and body were clay to be molded into a shape of righteous living that my mind had designed. That too, though, was part of the Dharma, part of my unfolding to connection and faith. I needed that belief, and that was as Divine as my love and connection is now.
But it’s not like I didn’t resist! I tried for a long time, with an immense, immense amount of effort to be that righteous ideal. Then, as spiritual practice evolved in my life, and wisdom and love arose in huge waves, my ego began to lose ground. The ache and yearning of my heart was louder and harder to push away every time I chose to ignore it and picked what I thought I should be doing instead. My heart’s intention arose over and over, gently, with no fierceness, and things slowly began to shift. Sometimes, my heart’s intention was to sit around and play computer games all day. That was hard—it is hard, whenever it arises. My ego struggles with being “that kind” of person. Sometimes my heart’s intention is to volunteer, to work, to lead. My ego likes that. But the struggle continues, and was held so perfectly by the Dharma. Circumstances in my life fell together, as the Dharma pushed forward. My incredible partner shared her experiences and ideas, and we grew together in our union, moving as linked gears. My heart gained more ground. I listened, and listened again.
So, slowly I’ve been practicing. There have been large shifts in my life, and my identity. My next piece on narratives, talks about some of those shifts. But the most significant change in me has been my faith. Many people, myself included, struggle with the word faith. Faith is associated with irrational ideas, belief in magical things, lack of reason. For me, faith is a different thing. Faith means that I trust, based on my own experience, that when I follow my heart, and listen to what I call God, I will be lead to liberation and lead others, and will be prepared for what is to come. This faith is what sustains me. This is what I hold when I also hold the chaos and stress of the world. This is what keeps me grounded in doubt and fear. A blessing, as it continues to arise, that I am so grateful to have.
