What Does Your God Look Like?

Listening to Giving Birth, Finding Form with Isabelle Allende, Jean Shinoda Bolen and Alice Walker. "What does your God look like?," a woman in the audience asks during the Q&A. So many ways to answer, but perhaps my answer would go something like this:

A peaceful presence
announced by the wind tinkling a chime.
A carnival of raucous spirits
dancing like dervishes at Pentecostalal tent meeting.
A beautiful face hidden behind ninety-nine veils.
Sun, moon, stars.
Deep space and all.
Infinity. Possibility.
Ideas daring to dress themselves
in the finery of matter
The pathway paved by simple words of prayer
leading to the resplendent sanctum of the heart.
The perfect, round symmetry of seasons.
Rain and thunder plus the blooming rose.
The pregnant belly and milk-full breasts.
A heart that alternately celebrates and aches.
The vastness of the ocean
pouring into
the open sky.

Greetings, I Bring

Do something. Even if it’s just a little something, they say. So here I am and here this is though I've gotta admit that I feel a bit tentative about this whole blog thing.

Still, I'm interested in taking a step in the direction of routinely making time for a bit of scribbling, something I've always paradoxically had trouble with, despite long having thought of myself as a writer. Now, though, I'm feeling especially "pressed" to maintain sight of my many interests and passions amidst all that has changed in my life, the best change being my new role as mama to an inquisitive, healthy and beautiful baby boy.

I am motivating myself to embark on this diversionary project-- an outlet for my ever (r)evolving heart and mind--by reminding myself that the missives can be as long as an essay or as short as a word, as intermittent or frequent as I’m able to manage. Choppy as mommy-thoughts can sometimes be. Diffuse, if that's how it comes out. And perhaps, on occasion, coherent and on the mark. Maybe blogs should be looked at as the metaphorical equivalent of the gym-- a place where folks go to work stuff out and get conditioned...

In any case, I might-oughtta take my buttocks to bed, since it's a quarter past three a.m. and the baby has a doctor's appointment in a few hours. More later!