I Don't Know, and I Don't Care :)

I don't know what or who or if God is anymore.

Conversely,  I feel just as close to God as I ever did.

I don't know what or who or if Jesus is or was anymore.  I don't know if he's just the invention of a bunch of people, if he was an enlightened being of the best sort of kind (the kind that leads the way for others ~ or is supposed to, if he doesn't get hijacked into the ugliest religion that ever did make horrors of people who would be far better off not having fallen into cultural religion).  I don't know if he was the Son of God, rescuing the entirety of humanity from itself in the most beautiful possible way, or demonstrating to the souls of humanity aspects they could never see about themselves without someone so unafraid of death laying their life down.  I don't know if Jesus was one of many, or one of one, or none of one.

Conversely, Jesus is still as dear and wonderful and challenging and scary and inspiring to me as he has always been.  Just without so much crap surrounding him.

I don't know about God.  All I know is that when I was reading something before (Julia Cameron's Walking in This World) and she mentioned God as "he", and I said in response to the God within, "I am SO sick of us talking about you as if you have a dick," and inside I felt like this shapeshifting, gurgling laughter.  And I don't know if that is just me, or if it is God.  It feels as if there is a space within me that feels like the me that is mySelf, the Me of the future and the past and the now all wrapped up together, and this Self is connected intimately with this god and yet is separate.  Joined and yet separate, with no loss of myself and yet myself swallowed up inside the vastness of this ... whatever, this Great Creator.

And all I know is that sometimes when I think about that, or feel it in my body and my soul, the joy is intense and I want it to be so, and I want God to be there, and I want everyone in the world to shut up talking about God, and naming God, so that we can reclaim some of the magic.

And all I know is that last night I crawled into bed, and I was listening to my favourite storyteller at the moment, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, talk on my mp3 player about creativity, about Persephone and Demeter and Hades, and she was lulling me to sleep like a child being told a bedtime story.  And all I know is that how it feels to me is that all of those elements are inside of me, the devil inside, the god inside, so much beauty and wonder and mysterious sexy dark, and destruction, and hot sunny creation, all inside.

All I know is that am sure of less than I was 15 years ago (and shudder when I think of how I once was, which is perhaps how life should always be if we are growing enough).

All I know is that I don't need to know so much anymore.