There is salt in apple pie

I didn't make this, but
it looks like me.

Lately, my mother has been asking me to write about my God which is her favorite occasional character on this blog.

Backstory: I didn't grow up with a God I knew that well (although my God would argue with that). And so I made one up that I thought would work for me.  

It happened after I met our first baby, and realized that compared to this little being sitting in my two hands struggling to meet my eyes, everything else... And that is where I left that statement, because everything else had slid off the scale of importance and into the sea of not-important-anymore.

One night, while I was rocking our daughter and looking into the stars, I became overcome by emotion, not only because of the hormonal action I wrongly thought I could will away,  but the reality that now, with a capacity for love that defied description, I had, curled and tucked between my body and my left arm, the proof of a loss I would not survive. 

Now, I say this as a person who used to apply makeup and read the newspaper in traffic jams on the Tobin Bridge every morning, without a trace of worry for the safety of myself or my bridge-mates:   

I had never felt so afraid. This was not up to me anymore. This was up to whoever was on the other side of that window. So, I said aloud to the window,  "I don't know who you are, but can you just help me with this?" And ever since, my God and I have been close, and my daughter did not grow up to be neurotic.

My God responds pretty quickly to my requests for clarity, or, if my God is scanning the earthly security monitors and sees me in spiritual hot water, my God just skips the submission process altogether and pretty soon, I feel better. It is not a placebo effect and it is not me being my own God. Is not. Is. Not. 

Today, because I am looking at a yellow and green summer morning, and my sleeping cat, and feeling generally humbled and grateful for so many things, it's as good a time as any to write about my God. My God was actually just here, but left to check out someone who didn't want to consult my God, but see my God's I.D.

Doubters. I don't know. If there's really not any form of a spiritual power or mystical presence with which to conspire on our fate, then that is just a lot to carry around in the satchel of hope-for-the-best. 

Because.

We are all the things we are – admirable and less desirable things, selfish, hard things that we struggle with, or brave things we're proud of, platinum, kick-ass things -- all within our single selves. But every now and then,  our darker sides take the wheel.  They get bored. They wake you up to remind you that things really aren't that good because look at how often you still project and take things personally at age not-forty. Look at all of your friends who are in better relationships and have more money, more successful careers, nicer kids, more polite pets, healthier lives, and all the other "ers." What happened? 

You will need your God, (and it is acceptable for you to be your own God if necessary) to say this:

"There is salt in apple pie. If it’s worth having, smelling, tasting, experiencing, it must have salt. 

Then your God will go away and you’ll feel something that is better than apple pie, which is balanced.

Now, I say this because I learned when I was older than I wish I was, but young enough to make it count, that it should not be a goal in life to get rid of your occasional darker-sides. They are not in the way of your real light. They are giving your real light a break, because your real light gets tired. 

Warmth and love and gratitude get tired. The darker side – envy, insecurity, resentment, inferiority and all the rest of the ugly – is your soul’s way of making sure your  “light” gets a  nap now and then so that you don’t start faking it. Giving your warmth and love and gratitude and precious soul a little time off, is what makes it come back warmer, wider, deeper - and truer - than you even thought it was.

So, for today, I wish you moments of self-respect and admiration, and a few real conversations with those you love most about things that matter. But mostly, I wish you memories you can't even imagine making right now. 

And, your God willing, I wish you those moments of a lifetime that bring you face-to-face with your massive capacity to love, so that you are the never the same again, in a very good way.

You know who you are.