The god I want and the divine I know...

As much as anyone can know the mystery.

I struggle, sometimes, between the god I want and the divine I know.
Because.
You see.
I want a god whose favor I can win.
Whose will can be swayed by the light of my goodness.
Or the sheer force of my prayers.
I want a god whose light can be unlocked if I just follow the rules. Say the right words. Perform the perfect rites.
I want a god who will punish those who stray.
And reward me for my presence.
I want a god who cares that I am on my knees, begging…who cares enough to change his mind and give me what I am asking for.
I want a god who parts the clouds of mystery. Giving me entry into the known. The solid. The sure. So that my fears can finally be allayed.
I want a god of rules. Laws. Ones that are unwavering. So I know exactly what to do next.
I want a god of safety. Who will protect me from harm. And send me on grand, easy adventures, map and purpose in hand.
I want a god who takes sides. My side.
I want a god I can place in a box. A charm. A magic lamp where wishes are granted and miracles rolled out with every request.
Mostly, I want the comfort. And security that would come with it all.

And while the ache of my wanting is real.
The god I want, is not.

But deeper within.
Lives the divine I know…as much as anyone can know the mystery.

The divine I know lives in the expanse of my hips. In the breaking of the morning. In the stillness of the night. It shatters me like the caw of a crow. And pieces together a labyrinth of howls and fire and life so that I may stitch myself back up again in the image of my choosing.

The divine I know offers me nothing. And everything. And sets me out in the expanse so that I may remember myself. As I am. As I was. As I have always been.

The divine I know exists without ache or need or care. It is not to be held. Formed. Contained. Controlled. And I am the most of myself when I surrender into the inky, wondrous mystery knowing that the adventure is more magnificent than I could ever imagine.

The divine I know speaks to me in languages I am still learning. Asking me to trust in a wisdom that rises from roots not born of my life, but ones I am fed by nevertheless.

The divine I know offers me no safety in the swells of the human experience. Instead, it gives me a knowing of a vision of a grander unfolding. A more resonant invitation. And something essential that lives beyond my words, but fills me nevertheless.

And.
Still.
In all of the mystery that is.
When I remember.
I know, that I am held.
That I am loved.
And that I am being shown a way.
Through.

With love and fire~
Jo Anna