Sometimes the process of writing opens up and clarifies a new idea for me. I began writing about the difference between the sheer willpower and brain power I’ve always relied on to get everything done versus the ease of connection I had felt over those three days. My new energy had felt effortless – like all I had to do was “let” life happen versus “make” life happen.
My writing led me to reflect on old mythological ideas of gods and how God has been thought of throughout history. I also thought of the walks I’d been taking in the sun as often as possible just to get out of my lonely apartment.
As I remembered the wonderful feeling of the sun warming my face and the tops of my shoulders, the image of an ancient sun-god popped into my mind. I wondered, What about the sun had made people at one time consider it a god? Well, it’s definitely a power greater than any human, and it’s something people wouldn’t be able to live without. In fact, Earth as we know it couldn’t exist without the sun.
Ideas and words began to pour through me onto my journal pages. I felt this sun-god analogy might lead me somewhere. I kept writing.
I couldn’t imagine that the sun had had a grand scheme to fulfill such a daunting, important role, keeping an enormous system of planets in balance. It’s just going about its thing, just being the sun. Yet all life exists because of it. Flowers along the sidewalk aim their little blooming faces in the direction of the sun, searching for and getting the nourishment they need. And I would guess that the sun isn’t feeling diminished by giving these flowers what they’re seeking. The sun feels warm and wonderful on my face during my walks too. It’s providing this great service to all forms of life without even knowing or intending it, as far as I can tell.
One thought led to another as I continued to scribble furiously. Sunshine is abundant and it doesn’t discriminate. It remains steady and strong no matter how many people, animals and plants tap into its energy. The sun isn’t choosing who or what might benefit from its light and heat. I can choose to bask in the sun, to thrive and be in the light, or I can choose to hole up inside, draw the shades and banish myself from the sun. If I spend day after day lying on the beach, absorbing as much sun as I want, I’m not hogging its attention or energy, nor am I taking the opportunity to absorb sunshine away from anyone else, no matter how much time I spend outside.
My train of thought led to a little breakthrough. The sun provides energy for growth and does not intentionally punish or kill any living beings who choose to cut themselves off from it. As I child I’d believed that if someone was killed or injured or poor, it was because God was punishing them. Over time, this was one of the ideas that had turned me away from my childhood God. It just didn’t make sense to me that God would be that cruel.
Now, some would say that nature (or God) is, in fact, cruel, and in viewing animals devouring each other in the wild, or the aftermath of hurricanes and tidal waves, I can see why people could think that. But ever since I reached adulthood, I’ve had a core belief that there is no moral judgment connected with any of these things. How could there be, if that is the natural order of life? These events just are what they are. Animals and people aren’t judged and then punished by pain and suffering; life and death are just happening. Time is just marching on.
My thoughts flashed back vividly to my experience of accepting my cat, KC’s mortality during my three days of inner silence. At that time I knew there was nothing punishing about death. There’s no grim reaper looking for fresh victims; there’s no dark sun that emanates blackness, creating nighttime here while the golden sun is busy illuminating the other side of the earth. There is no source of darkness, no source of evil. Darkness is simply the lack of light. Even as an atheist I believed that every living being has “goodness” in its true nature, and that “bad” people don’t have evil at their root; they are just horribly disconnected from that inner essence of goodness.
I smiled when I realized that the new concept of God I was exploring was more like the Force in Star Wars than the human-parent concept of God I’d left behind ten years ago. Could it really be that simple?
