God in Me

So, this is weird for me to write. I feel weird about anything that even resembles a religious conversation. I think a little bit of me always knew that I wasn’t religious. Religious meaning, I don’t align myself with religious practices, like church, or even the personification of a higher being. I grew up with my Mother who, like her Mother, put every bit of her energy in the name of Jesus. That’s what we were taught. At the end of the day, Jesus. God. The Lord. The Bible. That’s it. Thankfully for me and my too logical of a mind for a little girl, my Mother wasn’t intense in action when it came to her beliefs. It just was, but it was never really forced. I don’t remember ever feeling like anything was being shoved down my throat as far as religious beliefs; my Grandmother and Mother just carried it in their own beings, and the presence was just there. To this day, I appreciate that, because although I rebelled, the rebellion felt more like a quest for knowledge and a quest for Self rather than running away.

The rebellion that I’m referring to is a time when I didn’t know what I believed in. I questioned my Mother’s beliefs and couldn’t really see how I fit into them. I didn’t understand the concept of Jesus, that he was human, which technically meant he shouldn’t be praised, but was reborn and of the Lord enough that he too is Lord, so should be praised. I just didn’t get it. Honestly, I still find myself boggled by that part. At that time, however, that struggle caused me to turn away. My Mother’s instillment in me was far too strong for me to ever say, to myself or out loud, that I was an atheist, however. That felt like just another extremity that I didn’t feel like pressing on myself. So, I went with agnostic. It felt safe. I could rid myself of what I thought it was to be a good “servant of God” with the hopes of still getting into Heaven if there is one. 

At that point, I was still a kid. I think I just wanted to remove the  pressure or maybe cover myself from feeling shame about who I was, thinking that it didn’t fit with whatever God may be. I never really hashed it out. What coincided with this at that time, though, was the prominence of my depression and anxiety. I was down, tired, nervous, and never felt like I was on the right track, no matter how much I faked the outside to look that way. I didn’t know who I was at all. I didn’t have a sense of purpose, even the seed of purpose to give me the task of watering it, I felt like nothing. Just moving through what I thought was life. 

That part of my life probably stretches longer than I choose to remember, but now that I’m here, I can pinpoint the key differences between then and now. I’m growing into a Woman who is very much aligned with my spirit. My inner being. God. Every time I go searching for myself, I end up right where God lies, right in my innermost self. I don’t know the exact moment that this happened, but when it started, I shifted. No longer agnostic, a halfway believer trying to play it safe. Through this shift, I found myself picking back up on my Mother’s and Grandmother’s routines. I don’t necessarily personify God, but I understand it, and don’t cringe at it like I used to. I see God in all things, I refer to God in many ways, and I feel the connection that I know my Grandmother felt, that I know my Mother feels. 

I let go of what I was fed and started being attentive of what I felt. I was guided to a process of growth and branching into what I needed while also being guided back to my roots. I picked up on some spiritual practices on my own. I meditate, I read tarot, I burn my sage and incense, I do moon rituals, all while keeping the routines I was taught as a child. Through all these and more, I feel even closer to what I feel God is. 

I feel divine energy. I experience it as my own electricity, my vibration, Love. It courses through me. God moves through me and it brings me to tears. I no longer need the proof, the logic I once longed for. I feel who I am through this energy. My purpose, not at all set in stone, feels solid within me. My prayers are conversations, conversations that bring me comfort and make me laugh at my fears. There’s nothing else like it, I know who I am, and I couldn’t be more grateful.