Sometimes when I am walking around I think about how amazing it is that I happen to be walking past the person I am walking past, out of all the people in the planet. Just how extraordinary and random it is that I have the specific experiences that I have, out of all the possibilities.
This is what comes to mind when I think about the consequences of trying to talk about my faith in God, a term I know means drastically different things to different people.
For me, it is my faith that there is something for me in every single moment of my consciousness, but it is my job to feel it, not Hers. That there are things I am meant to do throughout the course of my life, but it is my job to do them, not His. That there is a part of me that is eternal, infinite and an aspect of the divine, and it is something that I can manifest in this world through effort. And further that this is true for every other person on this planet.
I have not come to this faith through any religion, but rather through my dreamwork journey. But I understand that it sounds like so many religions. I can say these things but that does not mean I am living them. That is part of the struggle of being a communicator. Very often the messenger gets confused with the message. Belief in the messenger becomes a replacement for the real thing, believing and living the message. Religion suffers from this.
The ability to live in faith like this sees no class, no education, no race, no age, no experience, and no hierarchy. It is available to anyone. It is the fiercest love I know. It goes to the darkest places in the universe and turns on its light. It does not know right or wrong. It just is.
So I think about people I have talked to before about faith like this, people I have judged. Remember how I cringed when they said “Well, that’s the way God planned it” when describing something awful that had happened to them. I can understand how feeling like who is sitting next to me in a park is significant in some way is an even more insane extension of that.
And yet, here I am left with that feeling. What am I suppose to do, when I know how amazing it feels to think there is something for me in every moment?
Writing it like that makes it sound easy. It is anything but. It is actually terrifying. It forces us to believe in love even when we have already taken a risk and been burned. It forces us to stand in the paradox of putting all of your trust in a force that has no control over what happens to us.
Most of the time, my faith is crushed as soon as it sticks its little head up. There is a voice that tells me that if I believe I will become crazy, stupid, guilty, I will lose everyone I have ever loved, I will never feel love, I will be alone, I will be rejected, I will become destitute, anxiety-ridden, compulsive, addicted, angry, muttering under my breath in a corner as I repeat the same mistakes over and over.
But isn’t that what happens to people all the time anyway, even when they don’t believe?
I think this faith is an ideal, and like everything in our world ideals are nearly impossible to achieve. But if there is something infinite and eternal then all possibilities are possible, even the ideal. Our problem is that we think the ideal means there will be no pain, that there will be no fear. That everything will always work out for us. That is the ideal of our ego, which is an illusion. Our egos know which experiences are good and which are bad. In the ideal, there will be no illusion, but there will still be pain, still be fear.
So I let myself feel into the possibility that who happens to be around me is significant in some way. It doesn’t always feel true, and that is fine. This does not negate the original feeling. I make the choice to let myself have this feeling because I choose to believe in their power, even though it can never be ‘proved’ to me the way my rational mind wants it to. This is what the practice of dreamwork teaches us to do.
And there is a part of me that knows how ridiculous it sounds, just choose to believe things have this meaning and they will! Especially when your life is filled with terrible things happening all the time. How are you suppose to believe in your divine possibility when your life is shit?
That is a really true question. And that there is no ‘good’ answer. But there is this reality: we have a choice. And in fact, we are already choosing.
Whenever I do not choose my faith, I choose the opposite. Life has no meaning. I am nothing more than a random set of genes and chemicals reacting to my random environment. Love is just a fleeting and elusive possibility. I am not meant to fulfill any specific purpose. Perhaps I should try to be ‘happy’, for its own sake, but it seems so hard to do just that.
What are you suppose to do when both sides are impossible? I don’t have the answer yet. I just choose to try to have this faith. Why do I choose this? Because there is a choice.