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We are told that we are separated from the divine at birth via the simple act of breathing in life. Though a momentary stay of execution is provided for a short season of childhood, after which at some undefined and undefinable point we come fully accountable and are thus violently rent from the source by virtue of some ancestral grievance, some foul atrocity hailing from past unaccountable, the nature of which none can clearly speak.
And those who profess the ability to do so are not the sort to which I desire to bide any time listening.
We are told that the only way to reconnect with the divine is via whatever corporate method is offered by preaching and pamphlet. Or far worse, by writ and force of law. Which makes for that rarest of beast, the sincerest form of lawbreaker: the person who obeys all the laws of God and only those of men they they deem just and equitable, being answerable to themselves by their good conscience and understanding.
I am studying to leave the naming of names, classifying of classifications and quantifying of quantities to they who are sadly so inclined.
We are told, by some, “I have heard from God.”
Oh? Did you get that just now or did you guys chat last Tuesday?
Don’t you realize? God NEVER stops talking?
But we continue to not listen, and what we do hear comes down through so many filters of culture, religion, circumstance of life and our own prejudices, preconceptions and lack of self understanding that what is finally heard only remotely resembles the tiny piece of a long love song that never stops playing.
It is the Song of Solomon, written uniquely for each of us.
It quests for us with low haunting melodies, expanding cries of adoration in crescendos that fill the void between stars. Notes of purest sadness rain gently on ears made ever more deaf by the cacophony of the 21st century. In a quiet moment we begin to feel a stir, like light kisses brushing the edge of conscious, but then the phone beeps and social media demands our attention.
A personal composition from God expressing her painful longing for the joy of being heard. Missed for a meme.
Therefore we continue to live separate from the divine. As a result, we are separate from each other, most of us unable to perceive the link that binds us to each other and all things..
Thus we continue to drift, separated from divinity and one another, pushing at one another as though our differences were like poles of a great magnet, forever driving us farther and farther with our prejudices and selfish desires until the darkness and oblivion consume us.
Never seeking without to allow those differences to pull us together into a symphony. Never seeing them as points of celebration.
Never allowing ourselves, we separate motes of dust, to be drawn together by common good, first into a cloud, then further coalescing until the velocity and passion of interaction ignite the fires of heaven and a star is born.
I despair of the hope at times that this will ever occur.
I long for the day, when we, in quiet revolution embrace one another and choose lives of sincerity, simplicity, cooperation and generosity, thereby rendering irrelevant the chains of mind, body and spirit, and all they who would be jail keepers and taskmasters of the human soul, even when the dread overlord be our own limited view of who we are and our place in creation.