Revelation

There is something decidedly comforting in the notion of God's revelation of himself. I feel too often like I'm the doer and perceiver and believer. There's a true active sense in my experience of myself. However just as I feel the earth is flat when it's round this sense of self in relationship to the world is as far from centre as it might be. As a scientist I know that my mind experiences after the fact. There's milli and nano seconds of time between perception and perceived. This makes me not the prime mover but indeed the receiver. As masculine as I may wish to be I'm really the bitch of mystery. Because mystery is what this other is to me. And I call that mystery God. With rare humility, even as a scientist, I acknowledge the dynamic equation is that God is greater than I am and primary making me secondary.

From this I have that Hound of Heaven, Thompson poem sense that God is revealing himself to me, me the Bitch of God, as it were, and I'm really at a loss as to how to wrestle the very channel changer from Him. It's a maze. I wake each day in this reality that may well be of my making, if I accept the Eastern sense of Bardot, that play writing in between death and life place, the reincarnates green room, or the Gnostic sense of cat and mouse and I wrote this entertainment, called my life, for my self to find and explore. However, if I accept this, then I and it are even more twisted, involuted and convoluted than things might other wise be.

At its simplest its "I and God" or "I and Thou or I and It" or even "we and them" Us and this mystery. God is. I am of God and God of me but that's all 60's booblygook, that zen, thinking the unthinkable and unthinking the thinkable, paradoxical can't get there from here stuff. White Rabbit on Acid.

But then I think of God's Revelation. I think of the Bible. I remember that through out the ages holy men, mystics, seers, preachers, priests and priestesses, nuns and ministers, pastors and even psychiatrists, psychologists and neurologists and even more astronauts have all been trying to get a better understanding of God. The words they use aren't necessarily 'God' but the unknowable is what it's still about.

And in the midst of that I think of God trying to talk to me like I'm a baby. That's the primal image of the relationship of Biblical terms and elsewhere it's friend, Jesus called God Daddy. I'm a baby.

But I want to be lord of my creation. I wan't to swagger with adolescent machismo. I want to be the Mommy. I want to be the Daddy. I want to be the parent. I know it all even more than adolescent girls. I know it all even more than old men. I'm not God's Bitch. God's my Bitch. Yea, yea. Well, we're at best in this together. Like the trainer and the dolphin doing tricks for each other and trying to bridge the gap of unknowing.

Today God is my teacher again. Today is another day in Dr. Scott Pecks' kindergarden. I'm a student of life and God is Life. God reveals himself through his creation and through my experience. God is with me and God is in me and as St. Patrick said, God is above and below and around me and before me and behind me. I am in the arms of the maker. The problem is I'm a crybaby, whiner, neurotic, peevish, childish, emotionally undeveloped, fearful little bitch. That's the truth. Despite all the swagger and the violence and the aggression and the dare I'm inside afraid of everything. Or to be more specific I'm afraid of God. I'm in awe of God.

Yet God is trying to reveal himself to me. God is Love. God is loving. Wake up, little man. Do not be afraid.

It's a New Year. You got through this last one didn't you. So suck it up!
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