if i'm a channel, God needs better spell-check
plus thoughts on ritualized release—Raw Material #20
When Lily and I were kids, our father went to mass every day and made us go on Sundays. Lily called him “the long arm of the Lord” because if we went for a sleepover on Saturday night, he’d fetch us the next morning in time for church. I recall drooling at many pancake breakfasts as he pulled me by the scruff from a friend’s kitchen door.
Pappy used to tell me Jesus could be anyone, anywhere. He was referring, I realize, to a gnostic take—that the kingdom of God is within us—but I wasn’t sophisticated enough to understand that, so I pictured the Messiah opening the handicap stall in our elementary school bathroom. SURPRISE!
There were even a few years when I was bold enough to wonder—privately, in the darkness of my bedroom—did this mean…he could be me? I mean, I had just as good a shot as anybody. AND WE LIVED IN A TOWN CALLED BETHLEHEM.
Catholic girl grandiosity dies hard, which is why I’m so drawn to week five of the Artist’s Way, where Julia insists that the hand of God (define it as loosely as you wish, she insists) is at work in our favor. When I start to lean into that idea I get a warm feeling. Yep, something’s lighting up. Could it be? Am I…. ?
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