Old Posts: God Or The Lack Of It

God is… my lime green sofa. It is in the tears shed by my mother everyday, it is in the flash of gold that streaks past my lover's swirling auburn eyes. God is my solitude – it's when I put pen to paper and allow my thoughts to form a cushion beneath my effervescent mind. God is the kohl I wear in my eyes. God is that moment when my breath catches in my throat rendering me speechless – a void, without sound, tone or voice. It is the shadow of my dog when he pricks up his ears. It is the casual hug that my brother gives me when I sleep beside him at night. God is the dying embers of a bonfire. God is a child's baby talk. God is sleep, god is waking.In our eternal quest to find ourselves, to identify what we are, to love who we are, we create a power centre outside of ourselves. And we feed that centre of power with our own emotions, our own daily experiences, our love for life and living, our dreams and aspirations, our ideas of what we would like ourselves to be… and every time we do that, we give that centre a little more power. We feed it and nourish it and breathe life into it and watch it grow until it becomes separate to us – an entity larger than life because it's partly who we are and partly who we want to be. And we pray and hope that this foreign entity will save us – from ourselves and the world. We negotiate life creating little bubbles of fantasies and watching them burst in front of our eyes. Momentary joys, however fleeting those moments, are what get us through our lifetime. I blew a bubble with my heart and my mind and reveled in it for a brief time, marveling at the streaks of colour and the warmth inside. My bubble of what I liked to call love has exploded. I will not create one for a god again.