Looking for GOD? (A short “Soul Sunday” reflection)

 

Don’t look for me in holy books or so-called holy people.

That’s not where you’ll find ME.

 

Don’t hurriedly hunt me in secret places, special buildings, strings of beads, ancient scripts, in potions or in star alignments.

 

Get quiet!

 

Then,

Look at the fire coloured sun, rising and setting without you having to do a thing;
See the butterfly, the migrating birds pulsing to a vibration of pure precision;

Listen to the waves crashing, a choir singing, the cry of a newborn baby;

Smell the fresh earth after a thunderstorm;

Feel the high of a meditation, the warmth of a touch, the tears that run when the soft smell of a deceased loved one wafts through your home;

Tune in, and you’re getting close.

 

Don’t chase after me in holy water, special foods or men who claim to “know”.

 

NO,

I’m more likely to be in the eyes of your lover, a generous stranger, a homeless man;

I’m more likely to be the laughter of children, the gentle push of a teacher, your gran’s dusty kitchen floor;

I’m more likely to be in the tingle of strawberries, the soft rain playing jazzy tunes on your rooftop;

 

YES,

That’s more my style.

 

For I am GOD, my child,

The creator, narrator, the connector of the dots.

The beginning;

The end;

Foremost an artist! Second to none.

 

All light comes from me, and all light flows through you.

 

AND,

How will you know when you’ve found ME?

Ah, that’s the easy part: You’ll just know!

I designed you that way.

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

APOLOGY:

It seems there were some gremlins in yesterday’s post, trying to scramble text and give me more grey air. Luckily, we’ve now sorted them out.

 

 

 

“Crazy” is the new “free” (A short reflection on daring to be different)

I like “crazy” people,

 

You know the ones who sit down on the grass in a suit just because the spot is right and the grass is never going to be that particular shade of Jade again?

 

The ones who let their mascara run when a stranger’s baby takes their first steps?

 

The ones who eat bolognaise at breakfast and cereal at dinner?

 

The ones who simply say “not today”?

 

The ones who detox and retox in the same week?

 

The ones who leave all their curtains and windows open at midnight because it smells like rain?

 

The ones who collect shells, coins, feathers, and lavender even when it means their kids go Peter-from the-Bible on them?

 

The ones who have friends 40 years older, 30 years younger – some in places they can’t even pronounce?

 

The ones who have a silent melt down in the deli because they’ve run out of full fat double cream yoghurt?

 

The ones who simply say “not today”?

 

The grey ones who giggle in church, cry at sports matches and sing Spanish songs with all the wrong words?

 

The ones who dare to raise their hand and “object” when everyone around them is nodding?

 

The ones who wear clashing colours or their Wang wedding dress back to front simply because they prefer it that way?

 

I do love those people,

Because in a way 

we’re all dying to be “free”! 

 

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017