Dialogues with the Divine

The Dialogues

November 25, 2009

I feel useless—to society, to the arts, to my friends, to my husband, Rob, perhaps even to you, God, because I don't know if I've missed the boat, missed the call, missed the path. Why am I so afraid?

God: You don't know what's in store.

But it's good, right?

God: Yes.

I knew it.

God: Did you?

I guess I was starting to doubt, lose faith after five months of unemployment.

God: I know.

I don't want to lose faith, though. I just feel very vulnerable right now. And depressed.

God: Pain does that.

Makes me vulnerable?

God: Yes. You don't like pain. No one does. But you, especially, don't deal well with pain. Physically, I mean. Emotionally, too. You try to put up a strong front, but you're very weak.

I suppose I've always known I have a very low pain threshold—hence the plea to never become really sick. I know about the emotional weakness, too—why I've compartmentalized. Stronger people would have remained one.

God: But it doesn't matter. I made you the way you are and you are pleasing to me. I am just saddened when you forget our connection.

I'm greedy and want to feel our connection all the time—I don't want to let you go.

God: I know. Do you remember how hard it was for you to really leave that suitcase behind? (Ten days prior, I was in a car accident while away from home and my single carry-on suitcase was trapped in a car trunk with two bags of ripe fruit for four steamy, rainy days. I had difficulty letting go of my belongings. I imagined that if the suitcase was rescued, the contents would be ruined by the rotting fruit and accompanying insects. I received the suitcase back, intact and unharmed.)

Yes. I could pretend and pretend, but I couldn't let go. Similar to fake forgiveness. It doesn't really work.

God: I need you to let go of this need to do something. To accomplish something. It really isn't necessary. When people love doing something, they don't consider it working.

Don't tell me God sounds like a motivational poster!

God: Don't dismiss such things so quickly. You are trapped in this fear of hating what you do for a living. Of hating your life. But I'm not going to ask you to do something you hate. The Path of Flowers is something beautiful. Something you'll love. (Four times in my life God has shown me a Path of Flowers and has suggested that this is the path my life will take, but I've often had trouble fully understanding its meaning. I was shown literal paths covered with flowers—white locust blossoms, catalpa blooms, and magnolia petals, respectively.)

Oh, I want to believe that so much!

God: Then do! Believe it. It will happen. But the waiting isn't over.

I'm trying to grasp this—how not to do anything. Is my sense of being unable to do anything the part of me that's on track? Do I block myself from doing anything because I'm not supposed to, or is it just laziness?

God: Interesting question. A bit of both. Nothing seems right because you haven't been shown the way yet. But you can be lazy, and fearful.

December 3, 2009

Good morning, God. So back to this laziness versus waiting thing. I can start some of those items on my To Do list, right?

God: Oh, yes. Not doing anything is more about a desired outcome, not necessarily the act of doing. Some of the items on your list will help you emotionally, even financially. You have my blessing. For clarification, your To Do list is not related to the Path of Flowers but all of the ideas on your list are good things to try.

Then I'm not focusing on doing versus being/Holy Waiting (waiting with awareness and anticipation). I can still do the latter as I'm doing the former.

God: That's right. I want you to feel confident that this Path of Flowers is something you really want to do, you will unmistakably recognize, and you will think is great!

That's so exciting. Please help me get through the financial aspect of it without losing hope, faith, trust.

God: You'll be all right financially. Really. Leave that all up to me. Just keep doing what you're doing. Waiting. It's all going to be okay.

I just love you so much. You're so great. You say things as they are, in a way that I can hear them. Not judgment, just truth. What a gift!

God: Well, I am God; it would be kind of odd if I couldn't do that.

I know, but I'm amazed by it, by you.

January 24, 2010

You know me inside and out—how upset and hopeless I feel.

God: Yes, my child, I understand.

I don't know what to do. This is the second opportunity I've had since I've been unemployed to explore working at Corporation X, yet I feel it would be the death of me—the death of my soul/spirit. I'm torn because I do not believe this is the Path of Flowers, yet I feel completely irresponsible not exploring this option. I feel that if I use up any favors—no, that if I don't apply for this job—people will not support me in any of my future decisions. Plus, I am so afraid of the application process, the interview, negotiating. I want to sabotage everything right up to the last possible minute.

I also feel as if I can't ask anyone to help me financially if I'm not willing to explore real job options, not to mention that I can't collect unemployment unless I do explore them. So, should I apply at Corporation X?

God: Yes.

Why?

God: Because you won't get the job.

Really?

God: Yes. You're too expensive. Also, they prefer a young person.

Okay, God, am I just making this up?

God: No. You know me; you know my voice.

I do.

God: It's good for you to get over this hump of applying for a job and not being afraid. I have plans for you. For good and not evil. I will provide for you. You need to trust me. I won't let you get that job unless it's the right path for you. And it's not.

I've always been afraid I'd end up working at Corporation X. I feel like working there is some horribly wrong destiny that I've prepared for since they moved their headquarters nearby.

God: But have you worked there yet?

No.

God: Go through the process of trying. For me.

Of course. I'd do anything for you. I hope.

God: I know. Your heart is in the right place.

I often think my heart is just made up of selfishness, laziness, and fear.

God: Oh, they are your constant companions, but they are not who you are.

Okay, that's pretty profound. I need to think about that. I need to combat selfishness, laziness, and fear.

God: And you will. You are starting to. Doing your resume will help. Also, painting, writing stories and poems to send out—these creative outlets are good and helpful. These actions will help you keep selfishness, laziness, and fear at bay.

Oh, God, I love you so much. You are so good to me.

God: I know. It's who I am.

I guess this was much ado about nothing.

God: Not really. It's good to come clean about your fears. It is good to come to me. I really can help you. With anything. You already know that deep inside.

Food won't help. Friends are great, but I truly understand you in every way. I know what makes you tick, I know your true self. I love you in every fiber of your being. Remember that. Always. As things get tough, as things do or don't go smoothly—I'm always here for you. Any time. Day or night. Forever.

February 17, 2010, Ash Wednesday (I decided to dialogue daily with God during Lent)

God, why am I still so afraid of getting a job?

God: You think it will be the end.

Yes. Of freedom, creativity, living close to you, focusing on spiritual and individual growth. I'm afraid I'll be angry all of the time, that I'll feel rushed and restricted.

God: I know, my child. Regular work isn't for you. It's not in your blood. You need sporadic work, enough to get by, but which affords you time for all of your projects.

So can I have that?

God: Yes. Haven't I told you the Path of Flowers will be something you love?

Yes.

God: Is it that you don't believe me?

I don't know. Maybe. Perhaps I think I don't deserve it, or that I'm making it up because I'm a passive person.

God: You don't deserve it. No one deserves anything. It is a gift, freely given. I want you to be happy. When you are happy, everything clicks. With your husband, with other relationships. That's when you're more confident, when you can hear me clearly. When you're happy you are not afraid.

I want to believe. I feel like I've been waiting, and I feel like I can wait until June, because that's when unemployment runs out. I'm afraid for the waiting period to end before June, but also afraid that it may go on longer than June.

God: But if you could be happy tomorrow, wouldn't you choose that?

Put that way, yes. It seems absurd that I would cling to being miserable when I could be happy.

God: You don't trust me.

I want to. I just can't believe whatever it is will make me happy. But I really want to believe that. I'm so frustrated with myself. Why can't I trust you?

God: You've been tricked in the past.

But not by you.

God: But that doesn't matter. You think I'm going to trick you or put you in a Jeremiah situation.

I don't think I'm strong enough to be hated by everyone.

God: You will not be hated. This is the Path of Flowers, of love. The path of beauty. This will be wonderful.

Can it not happen until I truly believe it?

God: No. It can. But I want you to believe it. This will cut out the misery.

I hear your questions. You are not insane. You are not foolish, unless following me is foolish—then you are. The world may not understand you or support this waiting period. But sit tight. The path will come. It will!

Okay, help me, God. Help me believe it in every iota of my body. Let my cells—every living cell of me—believe it. The Path of Flowers will come. I will recognize it.

Will it be in a blaze of glory? I don't know. But it will be unmistakable. Clear.

God: Yes.

Please work on my cells, my belief. Let all of me believe. The Path of Flowers will come, and it will be wonderful.

God: Yes, my darling, yes it will.

Thank you. I think this daily practice is very good for me.

February 18, 2010

Am I afraid of failing or succeeding?

God: Both.

Why?

God: You know why. Failing is humiliating for anyone, even you, who likes to be the low person on the totem pole. Succeeding is scary because you equate it with losing privacy. You prefer people to feel sorry for you—you don't want people being jealous of you or hating you because you're successful.

Am I really that petty?

God: Yes. But it isn't all bad.

How so?

God: The privacy piece. That's okay. You need your solitude, and plenty of it. That's how we connect. But it doesn't have to be that way. You can connect to me all the time—continually.

That seems so advanced. How do I do that?

God: By keeping me in mind all the time. You forget me when you're desperate. That's when most people seek me. But you forget I'm here.

I do, it's true. I go into automatic-fierce-independent mode. I feel helpless, so I try to be powerful.

God: But you can let me do that.

I can, and it would be much easier on me.

God: Yes, yes it would. It would stop the panic.

I can see that. Please help me to remember you when I'm in a panicked situation. And before bed. And when I wake up in the morning. And when I analyze my dreams, which I wish I had time to do every day. There are so many ways I'd like to connect with you.

God: I know, but you can't do everything. Even if you were a nun.

I always think that if I was a nun I could spend all day in bliss with you. I suppose that's a bit romanticized, and because I have a family, irresponsible. I also suppose that's not what this life is about—or is it?

God: No, unfortunately that's the next life. This one is about learning. But you're getting there. Compassion is within reach.

I see an image of me standing, a pool of water around my feet. I bend down and try to touch a ripple that's just out of reach. I see that ripple as compassion.

God: Ah, that's where you're wrong. Your hand makes the ripple. Compassion is at your beck and call. Compassion is already inside you. It just needs to be activated. You're getting there, step by step.

My need to be alone, is that okay?

God: Yes, for you it is. Not for everyone. Some people don't need much time alone. I've made everyone differently.

So I'm on track?

God: Yes, you are—keep going.

February 19, 2010

I'm beginning to realize what omniscience really means. You've already put everything inside me, including you—and free access to you at any time about anything. Once I pay attention, once I stop being so afraid to know everything, I'll realize it's okay to have access to this power. Your power. Wow, you are really powerful, and my access to you is scary.

I think Sister Daisy knows what she's talking about when she discusses our fear of power. Perhaps women aren't used to it, or are told not to use it. I don't know, but I think I've always pushed away knowing too much.

I think, deep inside, I've always believed faith can literally move mountains. That faith can heal physically, as well as emotionally. I feel, very deep down, that matter can be manipulated by faith. And deep inside, I know you've given me enough faith to do this—to change the world in my own little way. Perhaps even through the Path of Flowers.

God: Perhaps so.

I love you so much. Tears of joy and wonder are rolling down my face—and tears of thankfulness. Thank you for the idea of these daily dialogues.

February 20, 2010

I know during this whole process of waiting for the Path of Flowers to reveal itself, only attentiveness and faith are required of me. But there were no promises of financial stability. You know I don't want to go broke while I'm waiting. So far I've just believed that we will be okay financially, but will we?

God: Yes. No need to worry. You'll be taken care of. Unexpected things will crop up. Money will come from unseen places.

That seems like a fairy tale I would make up in my own head.

God: Well, it's true.

I'll believe it then. How come it's harder to believe I'll find my true vocation?

God: Because finances are tangible. Not much variation.

As far as vocation goes, I like so many things, I can't seem to focus on one. I don't want to give up one for another, yet none of them really make money. So being financially cared for during this time—that's easier to believe because it is a single thing, whereas thinking about a vocation (that would exclude other vocations) is hard for me. You know me—I like to create art, write, sing. I like to spend time in prayer, self-reflection, soul-work. I don't know what type of vocation could combine all of these things.

God: I do.

Of course you do. I'm afraid to ask what it is—that I'm not ready to hear it.

God: You'll recognize it when it comes.

So, am I not ready yet?

God: It's not ready for you.

Should I ask for you to tell me directly, right now, what it is?

God: No. It is not time. You are supposed to be attentive, wait, and it will reveal itself.

Am I just making up that answer because in the pit of my stomach I'm too scared to ask?

God: How many times have I said, You know my voice? You know it. This is why you like Margery so much. (Margery Kempe was a medieval mystic.)

I know. The great doubter. And I always think—oh, I won't doubt, like Margery, because look what happened to her when you became frustrated with her ceaseless doubting. She knew your voice, too. It probably scared her sometimes the way it scares me.

God: (Laughs.)

I must seem pretty silly to you, my constant whining, my constant need for reassurance. I guess I'm a lot like Margery in that way—I need to be told over and over what I know to be true is actually