Hardwired for Divinity

This was written at a writing retreat at Cupcake Manor. The prompt was:

What are you, and what are you in relation to that which is bigger than you? Also, a Gene Rodenberry quote, “We are on a journey to keep an appointment with whatever we are.”

I believe that God—whatever that means—is hardwired into me. And you. And all of us. Whether we know it or not. Whether we like it or not. Whether we believe it or not. That Which Is Greater doesn’t care whether we believe in it. God cares whether we believe it. I really think that God doesn’t care what we believe either; only that we believe something.

Some something. Some … what? Some, I guess, Order. Some creative, ever-evolving, expanding structure into which we all fit, in which we all have a place, and a purpose, and a mandate for existing.

If I have to pick a metaphor … I think God is the biggest diamond in the world.

Ever really looked at a cut diamond? It’s cut just so. Diamond cutters practice a dicey artform. One wrong move and the stone is flawed. Ah, but one right move, and the stone is revealed in all its perfect and perfecting structure. One facet grows from another with the same perfection that makes the individual fronds of the exuberant ferns grow in my sumptuous backyard.

Each soul, of which I am one, is generated by the Spirit of a facet. The soul is, if you will, the image of the facet. Spirit is the nature of the facet. Facets, like Spirits, are whole, pure, unadulterated, conceived in perfection and wonder. In working with people for thirty-five years, I’ve only met two people with damaged Spirits. Souls choose how they represent each facet to the world.

Souls drape themselves in various notions which could probably be boiled down to ouch. Try these: karma, memory, history, betrayal, denial, affirmation, admonition, generosities, lessons, growth, relationship, family, mind, heart, emotion, suffering—stories all. There are as many ways to ensorcel a soul in story as there are souls, and we are masters at tangling ourselves up in the untidinesses of the quotidian.

Souls, of course, grow bodies to live in, and those bodies reflect the many different soul purposes that are ours. It’s no wonder there are no two alike—even in identical twins there are differences. Am I my body? No, not really. I have a body. Like I have a self-image—I’m not my self-image.

What am I? I am a true facet of the Divine, of God Herself, in all Her Wisdom, Her Beauty, Her Power, Her Glory. IF I’ll let myself be that. I remember the first time I read the telling words of Sister Macrina Wiedeker’s anguished prayer: O God, help me believe the truth about myself no matter how beautiful it is. Amen, Sister, say I.

I hold the space of the Spirit of one facet for which I use my free will (not my free won’t—more later) to ensoul in story and my soul inhabits the body I have this time.

My Spirit is forever just like my God.
My Soul is forever changing just like my God.
My body is for this time just like my God.

I exist to show the light of my Spirit through my facet to the world. The facet that is mine has something of import and value to give without which the cosmos will be the poorer. I don’t always know what I am to give, or what I think I am to give slithers around like an eel making a mad dash for freedom. Less still do I know why I am to give it or to whom or when. What I have to give is less important than the willingness to give—whatever it is.

Some days my facet has been known to get a little dingy. I guess it’s soul detritus that clouds the view. Leftover shards of unlived story tangle my feet and make me lose my way. There are days when I can’t find even a pinprick of light to show through my facet. My soul can get her knickers into a pretty knotty twist if you ask me. Those stories I tell can trip me up any time I let them.

That’s why being a good storyteller is so important to me and for us. The stories we tell are the lives we live. Best to use our free will to tell the best ones—the ones we want rather than the ones we don’t want also known as using free won’t—and kindly leave the ones we don’t want to wither for lack of attention.

The thing is … if my facet gets too filthy because I can’t clear it—there’s too much old story stuff—it’s a relief to know that God is the biggest diamond in the world. Why? That’s easy. Because I can always take my animating Spirit, spin a new story for myself, and choose another facet to inhabit as I build a new soul. Sometimes I think that’s what’s meant by letting go—let go, go on, get the hell out of Dodge. Leave it behind. Do something different. Choose another facet and get on with living.

The way I do this is to tell a new story, one I want to live, one I think will be good for me, for God, for those I love, and might even make a difference in the world.

It’s a comfort to know we all have this ability—even if all of us don’t yet know it. That’s okay, because as I live it every day, I show others how to do the same, and eventually, we’ll all show everyone, and then God will think up another expanding adventure for us all to go on together.

Ad infinitum.