A Follower
posted in General |I’m not terribly religious. Generally, I’d classify myself as a Unitarian Universalist. There is enough common ground between the “major” religions, there is enough “good advice” in all of the religions, that I’m hard pressed to say that one batch of 50,000,000 people are more right than another batch of 50,000,000 people. Before I knew there was such a thing as “Unitarians,” I referred to myself as a Godian. And in my glory days of poetry, aka my Angst-Ridden Teenage years, I wrote a long-winded description of the deity as a faceted jewel, of which most people could only see one facet, but now and then you could catch a glimpse of another, as the jewel turned.
I like the notion of “inspire” in the sense that an inspiration is the deity’s breath breathing through you. And just as your breath can be made into various words or sounds, or just a light humming noise, what you do with that breath is under your control, more or less. I also believe that each person, if they listen quietly, inside themselves, can hear suggestions or feel pulled in one direction or another. Not strong enough to call it “destiny” or to overpower our own decision-making, but we’ll be happiest if we listen to the wind of the gods through our heart and go where it suggests. Although sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between what we want to hear and what we are being told.
I also believe that in addition to these internal currents, there are external currents and signs. One of my main ones has been the sighting of a heron. For some reason, I feel an affinity for these gangly yet graceful birds, slowly flapping with their wide wingspan or standing quietly watching the fish pass beneath them. I also feel an affinity for otters, but I see many more herons than otters.
The last time I seriously listened to the internal god-breeze, I left a solid, steady job and became a dot-communist. That road slid downhill, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Frequently, our sun warmed faces were turned up to soak up the rays,
while our feet trod dangerously close to a precipice. When I was forced to look down at the road, I was crushed by where the voices had lead me, and in denial, I’d look back up at the sun and close my eyes. Finally, the road came to an end, and I looked around to see a dried and husky desert that was impassable on all sides.
That’s when I determined to listen more and act less on the whims of the gods. For all I know, it was a Loki/Coyote facet speaking to my fears and dreams.
At this point in my life, I was also realizing that I had lead my life very … sloppily. To mix metaphores, if I had been a captain of a ship, we were aground on a sandbar, or worse, a reef. And as my ship foundered, I lead my passengers, those who loved me, into a veritable Scylla and Charybdis. I needed some help figuring out my astrolabe and my compass. This is why I was suddenly open to more “successful” people giving me suggestions.
I got un-beached and moving again, in a great part thanks to my wife and mothers.
Lately, I’ve been trying very hard to listen to these voices. But the normal bustle of life keeps them drowned out. And there’s a static screen in place too, because of where the voices lead me before. And, while I’ve been seeing a lot more herons than usual, someone has put a screen there too–
Isn’t it an amazing amount of hubris to believe that the universe will take time out of its busy schedule to give you a personal message?
I find myself in an internal struggle; half hoping for “a sign,” and half knowing that this is pointless. I don’t expect it to be done for me, but I’m kind of hoping for a signpost toward happiness. And not being able to trust in these messages gives me a level of “doubt in my faith” that I don’t like.
