okay I give in

I listen for you all the time and though I don't always understand what you are saying, it comforts me to know that you are there murmuring.  Whenever I talk about you to friends and relatives I always deflect.  I am ashamed I suppose at my lack of ability to understand what I am hearing.  When I can, I write it down, or draw a picture of it, or play music about it.  But I know that what I write, draw and play is only a shadow of what I'm responding to.  I wish that you would speak more in words or symbols that I can understand, but I also understand that I am made the way I am for a reason.  You have told me that I should write and draw and paint and play and you have indicated that the understanding is not for me.  Okay I give in.  From now on my driving force, entirely, will be to listen to the voice, look at the images and bring them into the world.  I'm guessing that I am a sort of midwife - present at the birth but not a part of it.  I facilitate something, and that something is known only to you and to the ones that you intend it for.  I'm not going to tap the rock with my stick and demand more water from you.  People are always looking for a blinding revelation.  Isn't that wrong?  Isn't it true that rather than blinding, the revelation illuminates? If we use the light that casts the shadow rather than focussing on the shadow, can we begin to see what surrounds the shadow?  I'm sorry.  I when  write things like that I feel some pride as if they erupted from me and not from the constant voice, the constant companion. 

When Adam walked in the garden of Eden, he walked and talked with God.  I'm beginning to think that our interpretation of that has been far from the truth.  God walked and talked with Adam.  Like me, like everyone else in the world, his voice was Adam's constant companion.  I guess that Adam could understand more, but then again he ate the fruit, and was banished from the Garden, so perhaps he allowed his own desires to cloud God's message. I don't know.  I only know that when I listen, the voice is there, and that I very rarely understand what it is or what it is saying, but I hear it and that is my comfort.  

Who is God?  Who are you?  Am I allowed to ask that?  Is part of the curse of Adam and Eve the disconnection from understanding your words?  

I think this today:  you don't want our belief.  You want us to know you, not believe in you.  What I hear is 

not something that I believe, it is a fact that I have to accept, just as the floor under my feet is a fact that I have to accept, just like the coffee I drink, and the air I breathe, and the light that shines in the window, and the keys that my fingers are tapping are facts that I have to accept.  As I accept them, I accept you.  As I touch them, I also touch you.  I do not fully understand the floor, but I know that it exists.  I do not fully understand you, but I know that you exist.  

When I watch what is happening in the world, some things I see I think are in response to you - some things are not.  The most visible ones, the ones that people fix their attention on, are not.  We hear about the horrible things that people do, even though the good things that they do far outnumber the bad.  Am I right?  

When I write I hope that some of what I write is in response to you.  I may not hear and understand, but please accept that I am listening and that I am grateful for your voice, even though I don't understand the words.  Thank you.