Do you speak to me, like you speak to God?

I sat with an elderly man the other day. We talked. He was a man who read the bible every morning and prayed to Jesus. He was raised with religion and had a very different view on life than I do. At least, that was what I thought before we truly met. While talking we contemplated life, society and spirituality. We talked about religion and how he could see God in every one of us. And then, he asked me about God.

Can I truly see divinity in all of humanity? In all of life? Can I look through the masks we wear, the harm we do, the pain we inflict, the lies we tell – and still see God being reflected by us? Or do I abandon this feeling of unity and belonging? Do I abandon this connection with something bigger than myself? Do I see God as the underlying current of loving presence, or do I see a God who left us, abandoned the world and failed me?

The old man looked at me while I was talking. With a gentle manner of speaking he acknowledged the loneliness he could see in my eyes. He mentioned the sadness that he witnessed. And then, he asked me: ‘what is it that I see?’ Is there hope? Is there really anything to be done? Can I rest in the belief that I am being held?

I often feel alone in this world. Misunderstood. Always searching for something that is hard to grasp. Looking deeper than the eye can see. Being surrounded by people who have a different focus, a different desire, who give a different meaning to life. And I feel at peace, sometimes, accepting it as it is. And I feel alone, often, accepting that as it is, yet with a longing for connection, for truth, for a God who understands. A God, whom I can understand.

I have been raised without any religion. My parents have a spiritual background, yet the word God was never really mentioned. I had a huge resistance towards people who went to church, or preached about God, or even mentioned God in any way. I thought all of those people where like Jehova’s witnesses, with one foot blocking the door while vigorously knocking on the door with the bible, trying to rescue me and bring me to salvation through their beliefs, through their God, through redemption and confessing sins I never committed. Who said they could own God?

Am I alone in this world? No. I see other people. I feel other hearts. But still, there is a distance, a banishment, a rejection. Who is it that is being banished? Who is it that is rejecting? And what purpose does it serve, holding on to the beliefs of separation? I want to let go of all limiting beliefs, yet I don’t know where to start. I want to find my people, but I do not know how they look like in this world. I hope for a different ending of the story, yet I do not even know how it really started.

The old man just sat there. Listening, witnessing my pondering, my contemplation on life and my concerns about the lacking presence of God in our world. He did not judge me. He did not try to convince me. He was simply being present. When I left, he looked at me and I felt understood. Without words or explanation, I could see what he saw in me, and I could see it being reflected in him. This seemingly unimportant cup of tea on a Monday morning might have been the closest I have come to the understanding of God in a long time, or maybe ever.

 

 


I am Linde de Bock. I give bodywork sessions around the world, and I write. What I write is my truth, coming from my own experience, different teachings and life.  If you wish to find out more about what I do, want to book a session or aim to collaborate – I invite you to take a look at my web page or to contact me with any inquiry.    


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