As I rushed to the balcony, the closest place to the sky, I said out loud “God fucking bless.” First of all, I’m not even religious, but you know what they say:
No one laughs at God when their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake.
I see God in beauty, in the faces of the people I love, in this range of feelings I am grateful enough to feel and witness and be part of.
God is in the tens of unlikely chances I have been given by strangers, friends, lovers. When I find myself uncontrollably smiling about too-good-to-be-true-but-actually-true things that have happened to me, I see God.
I felt God this particular day when I was in the kitchen doing the dishes and started crying in awe of this song, which, I decided in a matter of seconds, was now my favorite song of all time.
A string of sounds made me cry, and in that, I see my God.
My God is nature, but not limited to landscapes and weather.
My God is art, and in my art and other people’s art, I find and refind God.
In books, for which I would happily sacrifice days of my life for if asked to do so, I spot God.
There’s no sacrifice, and there’s no compromise with my God because the days I’d sacrifice, and this piece of art and God and me are one. There’s no ultimate separation.
I see God whenever the sky turns a color I can’t fathom, name, fully understand or hope to understand.
Whenever I hear of recovery, from eating disorders to mental health disorders, from toxic people and relationships to feelings and substances, from fear of the past to fear of the present and the future, I recognize God.
Recovery for me is a second chance. In the endless second chances and twelve thousand second chances I’ve been given, to recover and keep living, and in finally deciding to take those chances, I find my God.
I find God in truth and in work and in authenticity and vulnerability and in small and huge synchronicities. God is in pennies I find on the ground and in the way that occurrence immediately puts a smile on my face.
I see God in the people I would’ve never met if the circumstances hadn’t so magically allowed for me to do so. When my friends flourish, I see God and thank them for their existence, and selfishly, for the fact that our existences intertwined.
I find God in dancefloors and kisses and flowers and smiles, as well as in the knowledge that I can find answers to so many questions, quench my thirst for the unknown, just by typing a few words into a device that is never stingy with its knowledge.
God is in photographs that so vividly take me back in time, making me relive experiences that would’ve otherwise slowly started fading from my memory.
I find God in movement, and ocean water, and sex, and in the way two people who love each other can create another human being.
I discover God in conversations so satisfying they feel like accomplishments, and in accomplishments, and in how lucky I’ve been so many times that now I almost expect good things to come my way, daily. They so often do.
God is in humanity’s neverending quest to do better, love better, work better, be better. Despite what you believe in, whoever your God is, as long as it’s helping you better yourself (and hopefully others), isn’t that what matters?!
“Life is fleeting. Ideas, inspiration, and love endure.”
In that truth, I see my God, and, God knows, I like what I see.