Monday, January 17, 2011

multiple choice

The range of emotional and mental territory I can travel in a day is a wee bit staggering (to me). Every day is a marathon, and still I have no idea how I will fill each one as it starts.

I am, I have been, and still am, at the edge of my faith - not just in god or in love, but in anything. As far afield as one could possibly go, if one were me. Here is my current multiple choice thinking:

A. There is no god, and never has been.
B. There is a god, and she can be a cruel, indifferent B*tch.
C. There is a god, and s/he knew this was coming. Therefore, S/he put you as far into love and trust and goodness as S/he could, hoping it would shield you from the blast. Hoping it would be enough to carry you.

Now, the actual answer is probably more like the square root of duck sauce, multiplied by some integer of who knows what.

All I know is that when moments of C smash into me, I'm sobbing and I know I'm loved. I feel held up and sat beside, not fixed, but tended. This whole path seems possible. Not good, not right, but possible. Whereas A and B just suck, and I am sobbing and angry and alone and everything sucks and I soak myself in unwinnable imaginary hells. I mostly live in options A and B each day, with some forays into the unmentionable D: that there is a god, and Matt is here with me, but I am too dense/stubborn/addled/lame/lazy/bull-headed/fill in the blank to recognize it. Which then usually devolves into another imaginary argument between me and the god I no longer believe in as to whether it is understandable that I would be lost at this point, and not so good on the trusting.

So tonight, driving down the road, having shovelled out the barn and tended creatures, I am smacked by option C, option C, that who or whatever powers this universe knew this was coming, and so loved each of us that S/he or It put us as deeply into love as we could each possibly go. To give us something to hold on to. To have some memory, some visceral, beautiful thing to hold up against the living and imagined hells and wracking sobs and all the horrible mind crap that takes up my days and my dreams. Hold. On. To. This. A pre-emptive medicine. A tanking up on goodness for the long haul about to come. Because you are loved, sweetheart, and that has always been so.

How that works functionally, given that I still have to live this, well, I have no idea. That I am tanked up and full of love makes no difference to me at times. That Option C is true is often seen by self B and Self A as mere delusion. But even if I am making it all up, Option C is still a whole lot better than the other letters I have on my list.

And p.s., from Wendell Berry:

"Sometimes our life reminds me of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house, an orchard and garden, comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern made in the light for the light to return to.
The forest is mostly dark, its ways to be made anew day after day, the dark
richer than the light and more blessed, provided we stay brave enough to keep on going in."

Option C: a pattern made in the light for the light to return to.


  1. Wow Megan, such heavy thoughts. I love this post. It speaks so clearly to me. I too have wrestled with so much of this line of thinking. I hate to admit it, but most of the time I get stuck on B. I try so hard to exonerate God, but in the end curse at the cruelty he/she has shown me. I love that you called her such a bitch.

    So many people have said that I must have had such powerful love for, and from, Michael, which is why this has hurt so much. Option C really does speak to this. I would love to be more open to how your theory helps us to understand how God might have played a role in this, but not necessarily a negative role. In my heart I don't feel that God set out to hurt me, but often feel like he/she put me in the position to love Michael, and to be a part of this important stage in his life. This in itself makes me mad, because who will be there for me if I get sick?

    Anyway, in the end I do feel blessed by Michael, and do have to thank God for sending him my way.

    Thanks for such insightful words.

    Love. Dan

  2. This made me laugh (wryly) because I can remember (many) times that I have bounced around these options ... I have now come to the conclusion that there is no god, but that there is an afterlife, that sometimes they are with us (because I can feel it and it's not always when I need him most) and that I don't have any clue what that afterlife looks like. Some days I want to get there much faster than other days.

  3. I've always been more of a quantum physics face of god kind of person, rather than a religion person. But I need my faces of god too, otherwise it's all just too large for me to relate to. Currently, I think there is a huge, unknowable something that is not remotely humanoid at all, but there is also something present, something that stands between that unknowable force and me, or us, here on this ground. And if I can belive that those closer forces care for me, rather than being capricious cruel forces, well, that makes it easier to live.

    Was thinking of you when I wrote that one dan, hoping it wasn't offensive to too many people, and thinking - well, dan will like it I bet.

    A - me too. Me too. Me too.

    Boo - no kidding. There has to be something - too much has happened, before and since, to think that there is nothing. But as to a meaning for it all? Phhht.

  4. "Too much has happened, before and since, to think that there is nothing." Word.
    But what? What is it? How can there be these feelings of his absolute presence Right Here With Me at a very few moments, and all those very odd happenings and findings documented here and elsewhere, and yet there is nothing out there? I can't believe it, now, after all that has happened. But to me it's not about God, so much, as it is about Love somehow, and Energy.

    But sometimes when I think (don't judge me, people) that it really is J. putting all those hearts in my path, that would indicate that he can see me, and that he knows where and how I am, and that just breaks my heart worse than being alone, because if he sees how bad off I am it's bad for both of us, not just me. And then does he miss me as much as I miss him? That just compounds my grief even more. I'd much rather think he's off wherever it is that one goes (or does not go) than think he's in pain missing me/watching me miss him.

    Rarely, it feels like we're still together but like when someone's in prison, putting their hands up to either side of the glass window...just something we have to get through. Not even that we get to meet back up again later, just that this is how it is for us now. I get no inkling of what happens later...

    But usually I am just all alone, a crazy person pacing the beach, babbling about hearts.