The one who made the flower made me and thee.

When I am honestly in quest of the true truths, not succumbing to the crap my monkey mind churns out, I dialog in my journal with God. I do not do this nearly often enough, but when I do, it can really be wonderful. Like a conversation, even.

I should tell you I don’t have the kind of HP who jumps in front of me with visions and things. I have friends who say they receive insights and direction this way and I believe them. I am also aware that my HP knows visions would freak me out, so instead gives me clues. These are not feathers or leaves gently floating into my face just when I’m asking for a message from heaven. They’re not pennies that show up in odd spots at right times the way they do for Dear Abby readers.

My HP is more subtle.  When I get guidance, it tends to be an intense, cool, calm sensation of power and clarity below thought and feeling, directly under my breast bone. These sensations can, however, be subject to interpretation, and require that I sit still to receive them. I have trouble with this.

So sometimes, like I said, when the brain is more or less in place and fitting properly, I actually think to ask in writing what I need to know. And often the answers just come as I write along. Some random examples culled from the last few weeks’ journals:

Gay: How many mistakes are too many?

God: Try and find out. All mistakes are forgivable. Humans are innately good. If you have done evil, it’s because you have moved away from the source of good. When you move back into the light, all will be well.

Gay: How much work is enough?

God: You have to do what you have to do. You can only do what you can do. (I first heard this from a friend when we were sharing a cube and I was overwhelmed and freaking out. God is happy to use anything and everything to deliver a message. HP also doesn’t seem to mind having to repeat things. Which is good because I seem to be a slow learner on some of this stuff.)

Gay: Where is the money?

God: Do you have what you need? (God sometimes talks like a shrink.)

Gay: How much am I allowed to have?

God: As much as you need.

Gay: But I feel guilty.

God: Keeping yourself poor in body, mind and spirit does not help people who are poor. Nor does taking excess beyond your needs. You are not a princess. (Ouch!) You are not a pauper. (Yay!)

Gay: What is my right work?

God: What do you want to do?

Gay: What do you want me to do?

God: I created you as you. You are Gay. Be Gay. (Now God’s sounding like my mom. How come moms and God never tell you what that means?????)

Gay: What is death?

God: (Silence.)

Gay: Why won’t you tell me?

God:  I will.

Gay: When?

God: Not now.

Gay: Sometimes I hate you.

God: I know.

Gay: Aren’t you going to smite me?

God: Nope. I’m over that. (God has a sense of humor. I hope. Right. Hmmm. Maybe I should ask?)

Gay: Do you have a sense of humor?

God: Kangaroo.

Gay: Right. Thanks.

God: You’re welcome.

Gay: Seriously?

God: Seriously.