By Any Other Name

Life is complicated. That is not a bad thing. It is simply the truth. Even as a child I found that very few things were black and white for me. Can you imagine trying to explain a certain shade of pale gray with dazzling highlights to someone who has been blind since birth?

That is what it is like when I try to write about some of the most profound and moving experiences of my life. Many people would not believe me no matter what I said and the others might believe me no matter what I said, so I won’t go into great detail here, but I need to share some.

There is a power in my life. I have called it many things. Others would call it even other things. Giving it a name neither diminishes, nor enhances it. I do not control it any more than I control the sun, or the moon, or the stars. I don’t even really know if I am the recipient of it, or the creator. I cannot prove either. I only know it is.

If I were a fish, it might be the watery currents that lead into the tides, surrounding me, filling me, becoming part of me as I move through it. Most of the time I swim along, never even noticing it exists, but at other times it pulls me this way, or forces me that way and those times often leave me almost blinded by the light that flashes through me.

I am always free to seek it, but I never know if I have reached it until after the fact, which leaves it even further open for skepticism. As a young child and when I am most vulnerable, on the edge of sleep, or deep in contemplative prayer, or meditation, it has touched me in strange and wonderful ways.

Christians might call my belief Jesus, yet many of them would find my beliefs unpalatable. Mystics might call it something else. In all honesty I can no more label it than I can prove its existence, or count on what it will do with me, or for me. Atheists might call it instinct, or extraordinary powers of observation, but if that is what it is, I quake in my shoes, because I never want to be held responsible for calling upon myself and expecting these results.

By any name, I do have faith in it. It is the rock upon which I stand, the water that pushes me to do things I sometimes do not want to do, but must. Perhaps you are thinking, it is a conscience? In a way it is; a conscience that springs from mystery and a belief in absolute goodness.

It is the power that allows me to do the hardest things without feeling utterly alone. It is what connects me to you and everyone else, a sense of love the envelopes me when I see your face, hear your words, look upon your creation. In the past I have given it names you can understand, but it is more than a name. In some way I do not understand, it is everything