“Silence is a source of great strength.” ~Lao Tzu
I don’t religious based blogs, I’ve tried really hard to refrain from it. But my last blog entry left me thinking about events that took place. I keep asking myself, “How do you know what they were doing was wrong?” There is no easy explanation for it, I just “knew.”
I will be the first to say that I am not a perfect Christian. Hell, I don’t even consider myself “Christian”, if I had to compare myself to others out there. I have read the Bhagavad Gita, The Book of Tao, The Suttras’, and the Bible. Out of everything that I have read, out of “knowledge,” I would say that I believe more of the Suttras’, more of what Buddha tried to teach. But having knowledge is far different than having faith. I cannot explain faith, it just is. What I can explain is the feeling I get when I know I’m being directed down my path in life.
The first memory that comes steadily into view is one that took place in downtown Seattle. Here I was an young woman with her head in the clouds. I was set out to take the big city by the collar and demand she shows me her real side. I had camera in hand, ready to capture the darker sides. As I bounded my way down the hill towards the Pike Place Market, I stopped to take photos of the vibrant flower vendors. I wasn’t paying much attention to those around me, except the street performers and pan handlers. I stood back and watched one of the homeless individuals. I was really intrigued by his gentle nature. He wasn’t asking the people passing for money or handouts. He was just .. sitting… and being. He’d strike up a brief conversation with various few, but that was really the extent to it. At first glance I could see why people were reluctant to talk to him. He sat on the cobble stone walkway, with a small cardboard sign in his hand. I couldn’t read the sign from my angle, which was alright; I was more into watching him. My memory, however, cannot recall the specifics of what he looked like. I found myself inching closer so I could catch wisps of what he was saying, and read the beaten sign he was holding.
“Let me tell you about my God” was all it said.
There were no plights surrounding unemployment, homeless, lack of living necessities. Just one sentence that stuck a deepened chord within me. I was pulled in, captivated by the calm serenity that rippled his aura like stones in still waters. I found myself slowly sitting next to him, my mouth speaking words my mind hadn’t frontally formed.
“Your sign says you will tell me about your God…” with the last word trailing off. This disheveled man made eye contact, and I was fully pulled in. I cannot remember what was said in specifics, much like his looks. What I can remember is how I felt, and snippets of a voice in my ear telling me things.
It started with my neck and cheeks, I felt this hot flush run up the nape of my neck, and out into my jawbone. I was aware, but attributed to hiking around Seattle’s hilly terrain. But the warm, the glow, spread to my heart. It was the most indescribable feeling. I was there, watching his mouth move and formulate words, but I wasn’t listening to him. It was as if someone was talking to me, directly to the cells in my body that individually make up each aspect of ‘me’. The only physical words I can remember this man saying was, “God” and “Love.”
Here’s this, this beautiful man, telling me about the word, and magic God does. There was no judgments, no fears, just honest testimonial. This man humbled me. He didn’t want money, he wasn’t peddling anything. Despite whatever path life brought him down, he still had this thing called faith. Faith.
I found myself crying, as I tried to listen to him while my soul was being soothed by this other voice. God is love. That was the message I heard louden (yes, this is a word according to the universe) clear. I have to love myself, I have to love others unconditionally. I loved this man in front of me, and the message he gave me. I have gone back to the Market many times since this day, and I have yet to find him again. To this day, I wonder if he was sent to me.
Where does this leave me? I know that my post from before was very blatantly God / Christian based, and this one has tones of it as well. I do know that I pray, I pray to a Christian God. I love God, and Jesus. I am terrified of his followers (which is another blog for another day). I do know that he’s not hate, or judgment, but love. The way to him is through love, belief and faith. It is not our job to patrol or monitor the actions of others, these were ideals put forth by man in one of the numerous times of the Bible being rewritten.. BY MAN. King James, in his obsession with doing away with paganism, other religions, and psychic abilities had Christian followers go forth in monitoring the actions of others. It just isn’t our place to judge another person, they will be judged by their maker. It is not our place to yell out hate against other races, creeds, beliefs, etc. We are only here to monitor OUR own personal behaviors and actions; for our time to be judge will come forth as well.
I really believe that it is up to us to show each other the way by extending a hand, loving one another, and compassion.