SOC Writing _ 25th September 2020

Like God

He is me. My mother would cough and splutter, my Dad would shake his head – maybe his fist. I am God. God outside me is too abstract – not helpful – a control measure – a stick to measure self against. I AM. In THOU – thou in me - the mystics talk of becoming one with all – with the rain becoming lost in the river – I know this is a process – but leads to the same divine communion – God - ness in all. So fuck the separate shit – the partial holiness while we struggle through fear and loathing to become something secondary to the might of the divine – the stars, us, God – One. One – fuck – like Heisenberg principle right? Super connectedness. The lack of power in my bower is precisely the small me backed up with a theology of separateness – of sin – of the Jezebel eye – the die if you lie – sort of spy in the children’s toilet – all the fuckery of the alpha and omega as superior to the base metal of my life and being – my will not being divine - being something else - something that deserves punishment because I am not the lamb -  that then got slain – slaughtered, murdered, cut and left to die – that is not right – but we Christians have turned it into the mainstay of the religion – the beauty of the death of God. So fucking weird. The universe is violent – yes, and brutal – yes, and benevolent – yes. And I am God. Yes. You are your God – like I am me and we still see further out and further in – describe the din at Satan’s lair – his feasts and debauchery and tell me this tale with a smile – yes smile way all through the pleasure you have seen and witnessed in your body – notice - NOTICE the judgment feelings begin to rise inside your insides – where you thought you could never go, you have gone – what you thought you would not think and own – you own – yourself as a mind and as a right – to fight the holy fight to establish your throne in the midst of the land of beauty.