Onedia In The Ozarks

My absence here for so long is not because I had nothing to write about. Rather it is an over-abundance of possible posts which resulted in stalling each time I clicked to the home page.  So, after about ten possibles to write about rolling over and over through the brain this week I am simply sitting here and letting my fingers take charge. Consider that a disclaimer and quit while you can still escape. It may be a rant or an extended ramble.

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I think I will continue on a theme of some previous posts and write about what I think of as rising from the blue depths. It is a metaphor from the days of diving while living in Guam.  I loved diving.  While diving I felt free and graceful more alive and connected to the sacred than I think I had ever been before. I allowed myself to drop slowly down through the turquoise waters until I found my neutral  buoyancy floating suspended usually at about thirty feet  slowly taking in the details of life in a few square feet of  reef.  I could spend most of my dive time there moving only a few square yards sucking in the textures, colors, light, and movement with each breath I took.  I spent every second of every dive smiling.  Those fifty or so minutes were the purest of  joy well beyond my ability to fully describe.

However, those times at twenty or thirty feet were not the blue depths.  The blue depths require no water and are like suddenly being pulled down by a world of heavy gravity.² Those depths get their color not from the interactions of light and water but from the absence of light found in the shadows of  places where there is chaos, uncertainty, fear, guilt  (especially unearned guilt) and responses learned from childhood or from some overwhelming negative experience.  My personal spiritual journey has been about rising  from the blue depths to float, gently basking in the light of the Sacred Presence that encompasses all things.

My childhood understanding of  God was that of an unchanging and disapproving patriarchal figure that expected complete devotion and submission to a set of musts and must-nots. Failure to believe and obey promised never ending suffering and exclusion. My devotion was won because my fear subdued all reason and logic and left any questions or challenges unspoken even if fearfully and briefly considered.  I went to church because I was afraid of the consequences if I did not and professed my belief because I was expected to do so. It was always, ALWAYS wrong feeling.

I spent most of my adult years searching for a spiritual niche that did not frighten me or feel wrong.  With the love and and most patient support of four amazing people I discovered that spiritual questioning is not wrong and should be embraced rather than feared and avoided.  I learned that questioning is unlikely to produce certain answers or fully reveal the mysteries of the Sacred Presence.  Instead, I discovered that questions sincerely and patiently posed ³ open us to the opportunity of discovering the Sacred Presence in ways individually meaningful to each of us.

I am still learning, still asking questions, still seeking.  More to come.