5:21am on a Sunday isn’t that uncommon of an hour unless you’re waking up to it, and that’s why I’m here. Deadlines make for strange sleeping patterns, along with blockages in the flow that require clearing out through other means. Dusting off a blog that hasn’t seen an entry in two months is one of them.
I’ve started putting “God” back into my vocabulary, a reclamation of the term, an idea garnered from Mrs. Sarah Hall, a gifted painter, a fount of tribal wisdom, and a dear friend of mine in my Landmark Introduction Leader Program. Sarah has her reasons for de and re-legitimizing “God”, and when I explore mine, my reasons for stopping my relationship with deity was purely based on gossip and misrepresentation. There’s a bumper sticker: “God, save me from your followers”. That’s basically what happened with me.
Imagine a group of people claiming to be your fans invoking your name every time they manifested hatred, violence, and bigotry in the world. For those outside your fan club, it would be easy to conclude that you were all about what they said you were about. In addition to suffering from extraordinarily bad PR, it also doesn’t help that numerous rules and practices ascribed to God no longer apply to the current age, but that doesn’t stop the fan club from invoking them (Leviticus being one notable one).
Years ago, I distinguished the difference between shaman and priest, courtesy of my own unknowing mentor Robert Pirsig and his book “Lila”. Priests operate within an existing system of contemplation and inquiry into divinity that, more often than not, they themselves never experience directly. A shaman often works alone, experiencing God in his or her own direct way. The Persian mystic Rumi was one such man: imagine if his ecstatic, loving experience of Allah was what spread across the world under the banner name “Islam”. All too often, it’s the priesthoods, within Pirsig’s usage of the term, who impose their rules and seek to persecute non-believers. The shaman simply heads out to the wild.
My experience of God comes via the Law of Attraction and serendipity, in these bizarre and wonderful feelings of possibility that I get whenever I’m working on a creative piece. And I had orphaned God’s name, not because he’d done anything to piss me off, because I associated him with his crazy ass fan clubs (using “he” as a linguistic convenience for my own long-entrenched habit; God is just as easily and rightfully female), choosing “Source” or “the Universe”. I still use those latter terms when sharing with others, so this isn’t an either-or thing, but a with-and thing.
The truth is, I miss praying to God. I’ve also noticed a certain utility in asking him directly for help and guidance, because the signposts appear faster. This isn’t about whether or not God is real (there’s something there) or about if Christianity or Islam or Judaism or other religions are “true” (my
relationship with God bypasses religion); it’s about what feels right for me, and what works for me. And it feels right to call upon the Source by his name.
Those who know me best know I’m often full of it. (And admit it, guys and dolls, you kinda love me for it). Recently on Facebook, I posted an article which I felt to be the best articulation of what being single is about. Since the end of September, my business-building has escalated, and my financial situation has grown more challenging. I have an awful lot happening that require attention and action, so casual dating has not been a game I’ve been playing, not since the summertime. No distractions. That’s been the story.
And yet, yesterday while working hard on a client’s book, I found myself feeling….lacking. Something was missing, someone. Ignoring the inner critic giving me shit for falling off the wagon, I went back on OkCupid to check my profile, found a nice match nearby, and messaged her. No response as of this
writing, but I wondered to myself, why would I suddenly be feeling the “something is missing” feeling now?
Later on, driving out to a Landmark Home Introduction I was assisting at, I drove past a church in Brampton I don’t normally see. On the sign appeared these big letters: “RELATIONSHIP IS EVERYTHING”. I no longer question serendipity when it happens in my direct experience. There’s something to this occurrence.
The other story I’ve been telling myself is that any woman I date has to be useful to what I’m doing. That’s regarding another human being as an object, and just terribly unromantic. But swap out three words in that sentence, and we get “any relationship I’m in has to be useful to what I’m doing”. Still not quite in Cassanova territory, but it points to a bigger principle: seen from a high enough distance, when everything in life works together, it also fits together.
I’m building all manner of connections with new friends and contacts, and I’m assembling my own team at Liberati Press. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that I find partnerships along the way, but I’ve been closed to it recently, and things are not working. If this Personal Development Year has taught me anything, it’s that the solution to a particular problem isn’t always as simple as fixing the problem itself.
If the underlying inauthenticity isn’t healed, it’ll simply generate the same problem in another area, like a neverending game of Whack-a-Mole.
Could having a girlfriend somehow lead to a breakthrough in my business? In my finances? That seems like the very definition of counterintuitive, but it could be. Like God, “dating” may have to return to my vocabulary. The winter may be that much longer, otherwise.
I can almost taste it on the air, the possibility of being on my own again in 2015. Not completely, of course, I’ll likely have roommates, though I remembered recently that that was an experience I’d wanted to have (back in university) that I never got. With at least two good friends already interested in joining me, possibly three, it’s now only a matter of finding the place.
A house in the Port Credit area with a big backyard for my new dog Bella to scamper around. Six book clients earning me enough money to sustain me comfortably without constant hustle for new, short term work. I can work in my track pants at my own desk in my own place. Going out and having the option to bring a girl back if that’s where the evening leads: I haven’t had that option in years.
Most of all, feeling independent again, definitely living my purpose, as I want, and being me.
And hoverboards. Definitely hoverboards.
2015 is going to be an amazing year, and I’m living into that now.
6:38am and the pipes are clear. Time to go to work!