Creation story

Creation

Creation

A few trillion light years ago– so long ago that perhaps it’s this very moment–God contemplated Its boredom.  It peered in every direction and saw only God. God everywhere.  God completely unbroken.

In fact, because It could see only God, It really saw Nothing.  Not a darn thing.  Not even Itself.

“What I need,” sayeth God, “is to break myself into pieces.  In order to see myself better.”

(Of course we all knew It didn’t really THINK that, as It didn’t speak any language but God-Being.  But let’s pretend It sayeth such a thought.)

Because God consisted of EveryThing, It couldn’t leave anything out.  So It created Everything.  It created Spider Solitaire and passionate love and guns and cave dwellers.  It created Vodka and horrible anger and sunrises so beautiful rainbows glistened between eagle feathers flying by.

God splintered, It did, for you and me, into me and you and parrots and plastic bags from Wal Mart.  It cracked the red clay pot of itself into a few quadrillion possibilities and, yep, here we are, folks, pieces of God floating around like dust or squiggles in your eyes.

So, here we are on this blue spinning planet that It also created, along with fun stories about Adam and Eve and slithering snakes and floods and turtles carrying the world on their back.  God loves its stories of Everything, It does!  Every morning and night, just before checking Its email, it looks down (or up) and marvels at the stories Creation created after breakfast and before bed.  Sometimes It weeps, too.

God especially loves weeds.  And colors.

God especially loves weeds. And colors.

There are stories of beatings and killings and even holocausts because God couldn’t even leave out a single fragment, a single shard.  Stories rise of pride and anger and sadness and frustration and utter despair as the fragments try to piece themselves back together into God’s broken clay pot.  Honestly, the beings do try to put themselves back together!  Day and night they sense some sort of brokenness in the stories they tell themselves (to which God listens so intensely, seeing Itself much more clearly).

The thing is–God can’t stay broken into pieces.  Sometimes the beings simply quit telling stories.  Let’s say you’re a rock and you’ve been sitting down by the beach since the beginning of Creation, and one day you just quit telling rock stories.  And you open your sandy eyes to see that you’re not really the rock you thought.  You’re really EVERYTHING you see!  And, hey, while you’re at it…you’re God!  You just pretended to be a rock for a bazillion years.

And shrimp boats.

And shrimp boats.

Let’s say…it wasn’t even YOU that told the story.  Perhaps it was all God’s story. It was all the story of Life, pretending to be this form and that, that form and this.  Perhaps, yes, perhaps, who knows? Perhaps  you’re surrounded by yourself and suddenly something rises like a broken pot coming together–one of those childhood cartoon images–and you discover you’ve never been broken, not once, not ever.  You’re whole.  You’re Everything.

You’re everything except the broken shard  you imagined.  Except, maybe, in some strange way, you’re the shard, too.  In this new way of looking the shard isn’t the center of the Universe.  God Is.

But then It always was, wasn’t it?  Here’s God now brewing a cup of hot cocoa and playing Hearts.  Here’s God now with Its left hand trying to convince Its right hand which one is right, better, more worthy, more whole.  Then God swats that buzzing fly and eats a chicken wing…but let’s not get carried away, shall we?

How should we end this fairy tale?

Perhaps God will even get all indignant about this version of reality, claiming it’s all an untrue rumor, an utterly wrong interpretation, because of course here’s a better story for you to contemplate~~

I’ll leave it up to you.  You’re the shard that’s reading.  Only You know the next sentence God is whispering to the dream of you.  Only You know the miracle of your holy story made manifest in this sacred dancing moment.

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