What if my life were a prayer?

What if my life were a prayer?

Those words floated into my mind this morning. The sun was streaming in the kitchen window over the greening trees and courting birds, and I felt my spirit rise to meet it.

What if my life is a prayer?

What would it be saying? What is it communicating?

Sometimes it is desperate, begging and pleading. Often it is bargaining. Quite often it is not giving thanks. Often it is spewing darkness and displeasure, angst and anger. What prayers to be emitting into the Universe.  Law of attraction-ists say that every thought, every word and deed brings call back in like-minded energy to us. Have I been praying darkness?

What if my life were a prayer?

I have spent so many years wondering to whom, whom am I praying any way? Who is the CEO of this god business or is there one at all? But despite my god or goddess being nameless, faceless and churchless, I have never, ever, ever doubted prayer. Ever. Prayer has continued, in grief and gratitude, in hope and blessing.

Prayer is. Prayer works. Whatever god you do or don't believe in. Whatever spirits or guides or angels or higher selves you choose to petition. We get so caught up in the what, which will never be able to prove any way. Or in form and formality.

Imagine if with every breath, every movement it was a prayer - of joy, of gratitude, of petition for guidance, of begging for forgiveness, of blessing, of petition for others. Every breath. Every movement. Every thought.

Imagine.

What if your life were a prayer?

Losing my religion

That's me in the spotlight,

That's me in the corner,

 losing my religion.

(REM)

I have a feeling that part of the problem with Christmas this year, is that it's the first year in my life when I really, truly know that I don't believe.

It will be the first year that I do not go to church or a carol service of any sort, by choice.

You see, I have wrestled for years with my Christian faith. And have come to the conclusion that it is not OK with me. There are too many central tenets which are antithetical to my personal beliefs.

I do not believe in the Christian idea of heaven.
I do not believe that god is "our father"
I do not believe in a virgin birth
I do not believe in the creator god of the old testament
I positively abhor the god who smites and advocates death and destruction as judgement against his enemies. That is not what or who GOD is.
I despise what has been done in the name of god throughout the centuries
I do not believe that Jesus is the only son of God
I do not believe that god is male... or female
I do not agree with only men being allowed to minister.
I do not believe in the resurrection
Nor do I believe in the rite of eucharist.

It is pretty undeniable that I am NOT Christian.

To paraphrase Emerson, " I am ashamed to see what a shallow village tale our so-called religion is".

I have read and re-read the bible. Debated on the doorstep with Jehovah's Witnesses. I have read spiritual texts from many people and belief systems. At grad school in Cambridge I used to go to church twice on a Sunday - mainly for the beautiful music. As a mum of one I used to go to Quaker meeting most Sundays. I have had a lot of religion in my life.

But I now know that I cannot call myself Christian.

I am spiritual. Deeply so. And believe in a universal god energy.

But I know that my rejection of Christianity puts me at odds with so many - some who analyse their own faith deeply, and others who live inside it like a cosy old jumper which was handed down to them by their grandmother. A large part of me is sad that I cannot do that, be like that too. It would be much safer, easier, accepted, acceptable, straight forward.

And so here I am this Christmas - knowing that for the first time in my life it really isn't about the baby Jesus for me. It truly isn't. It is about the light and darkness. And celebration, feasting and family. And so tomorrow, we shall celebrate Solstice with friends, food and creativity. That is what feels most "true" for me. But the Pagan festivals are not settled in my soul either. They are new to me.

So here I stand. Between traditions. Knowing what is not true for me. Sensing what might be. Everything is shifting, it feels uncertain.

The palm of god

Regular readers of this blog will know these two  things about me:
a) I do not subscribe to a particular religion
b) I write quite a lot about god

So it is with those provisos in place that I want to write about ... the palm of god.

I do not believe in an anthropomorphic god. My god has neither arms nor legs nor head. And yet.... Like the moment in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, when Zaphod Beeblebrox is put into the Total Perspective Vortex, the palm of god image takes me out of the driving seat, out of importance, very small and unimportant, and into perspective in a very freeing way.

The idea for this comes from the vast gold and bronze Buddhas I saw in my travels in Thailand and Japan - thirty, or forty feet high they dwarf our humanity our small fears and worries which seem so big and all-consuming to us, and instead present a calm, all-seeing benevolence.

Close your eyes. Imagine, if you will, that you are curled in a foetal position, calm and relaxed. Whatever is worrying you starts to drift out of your head, and as you open your eyes, what was darkness and worry, now you see pure, shimmering gold all around you. Rather than a hard, cold world, rather than problems and people cramming in at you from all sides, instead you are lying alone, at peace, in the soft golden warmth of an enormous hand that cradles your body like a precious baby. You are safe, supported, warm and loved. The worries are not yours, they drift off into the vastness of infinity. You are just a tiny drop, a beloved being, cradled and safe in the hand of god. All is well.

The Tree of Knowledge- Another installment in my son's quirky religious education

So on Sunday we got the "rainbow book" out, on request of my Bible loving three-year-old (those of you of a religious persuasion will be reassured that we have my illustrated Good News version on our bookshelf - it has a picture of a rainbow on the front and she is fascinated by it -the book that is, not just the picture).

They started to look at the pictures. And asked who the two naked people were. Those are Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, I say. And start to run over the bones of the story.

And I get to the apple bit. But Mama, was there only one apple? Is that why God didn't want them to take it? Perhaps he wasn't so good at the old sharing concept, my razor-sharp five-year-old suggested...

I stopped and thought. He looked at the picture again. Look Mama, there were loads of apples. So why was he cross?

Another good point, well made my son!

For other posts on Timmy's shaky religious non-doctrination see:
Jesus in a spaceship
God in the belly

God in the belly

We had another God conversation yesterday. Me and my five-year-old uber-questioner (for our last see Jesus in a Spaceship).

"God is in here", he said, patting his belly, on the way home from another indoctrination at school. "So I guess that means he's like a ghost...but not so white...and smaller because otherwise you'd have a really big belly!"

"Yes," I replied, "I think God is inside, but outside too. God is the life in everything, the energy in the Sun, in you, in the birds and flowers, God is everything magical and mysterious that we cannot see, God is in our breath..." but whilst I am grasping for definitions, he has already moved on. "What's for supper, mum?"

Jesus in a spaceship

My son started at the local school this September. 95% of Irish schools are Catholic. Irish schools have a required 30 minutes daily religious instruction.

However, we are not religious.

How will this work we wonder...

And so today, a conversation started in our house.

"Who lives there?" I asked "Jesus?" I can't remember exactly where this place was we were talking about, but I was being playful.