You spent some time discussing theology with Elaina this week, so why not tackle your own personal take on the subject?
For starters, you liked her idea of a universal energy flow. You can relate to that concept, even if it is a bit mystical, because there have been times in your life where you’ve felt the gossamer breath of old souls brushing by. It happens rather often the deeper you delve into history. You have sensed their ghostly presences on battlefields and in old cemeteries where your ancestors’ remains have mouldered for more than two hundred years. You’ve stood where they stood when they breathed the fresh air and worked with the sweat of actual muscle. Standing in those fields on those streets on that cliff you feel the hairs prickle your neck, your pulse quicken, and your connection with the universe tightens a fraction. Elaina calls this God . . . you’re not sure what to call it. You are not convinced the phenomenon needs any name.
You’ve experienced a similar bliss when listening to music, especially—if not ironically—ecclesiastical music and the songs of lonely or heartbroken souls. In the presence of music, your spirit expands beyond the shell of your body, binding to the notes as they rise and then fall, and if the conditions are right you may even reach a state resembling nirvana. You’ll replay a piece multiple times just to sustain a powerful emotion. Music is your drug, a stimulant that feeds on your varying moods and prolongs the sensation you crave at that moment. Surely it’s no coincidence that music—i.e. sound waves arranged in pleasing harmonic patterns—embodies the very forces that Elaina celebrates.
This sensation of a universal connectedness can also arise from witnessing human creations of unsurpassable wonder. It dusts us with snowflakes, warms our skin with the rays of the world’s nearest star, and rivets our minds with infinite natural vistas. Energy flows around you wherever you go, and though you lack the inclination to recognize and celebrate that force through organized worship, you stop now and then to marvel at life.
Energy flows between you and other living beings in the simplest of gestures: the touch of a hand, the press of a hug, or a gift that elicits a little child’s smile. You feel all this ethereal interconnectedness, you even consider it sacred, but you have never been inclined to explore what it means. You don’t question its source. You don’t need to know how or why it all works. You merely embrace it as a symptom of your time here on earth. You’re not always adept at keeping the energy flow positive, but you do always try.
The mysteries of life, to your way of thinking, lie beyond the scope of your personal interests and goals. You enjoy and respect them, and do your best to enhance them with these humble writings. You believe what you see and don’t dwell on what you can’t. Leave the mechanics to scientists and the metaphysics to theologians. If a day of reckoning lies somewhere in your future, well then so be it. Meanwhile, your energy resides in the stories you tell and the love you have given and the wonder you feel when you watch dust motes whirling in a beam of sunshine.