Dear God,
Sorry I didn’t answer when you called two and a half years ago. I was busy. Or otherwise occupied. “Unable to come to the phone right now,” if you know what I mean.
You see, I wasn’t quite ready to answer. I wanted to, desperately, but I wasn’t strong enough in my faith. I was wound around the axel of logic and reason and found myself hamstrung and hogtied (are those the same thing?) without a good explanation as to why you were calling me. So I ignored it.
“You can do it any time,” my ex-husband said. “Why does it have to be now?”
Of course the outbreak of Covid five months later would answer that question. I’m highly intuitive, but not omniscient, so it didn’t occur to me to reason that a worldwide plague would lock down the planet for two years and I should get walking while I still could. Then again, maybe I am. Around that time, I wrote a letter to Andy, complaining about the state of the world and wondering in writing if we didn’t needed a plague to reset our systems and get our priorities straight. Yikes. I guess you really do have to be careful what you wish for…
Well. Time passed. The world changed. And so did I. And now I’m here, 31 months later, (what is time, really, other than a made-up human metric, so who’s counting?). Buddha said, when the student is ready, the teacher appears. I didn’t expect “the teacher” to be a 500-mile walk, 30 weeks pregnant (and counting), but here I am.
The first two days have been both strenuous and beautiful, and already full of learning. Yesterday, I walked 7.5 miles, which included at least half a mile of walking back and forth on the same stretch of highway, certain I had missed a turn off, only to realize I just needed to keep going. Lesson Number 1! I see you! Sometimes you just have to trust the process and just keep going.
The second lesson came today when I took out my rain poncho during a light drizzle, put it away when the drizzle had cleared, only to need to take it out again less than eight minutes later for a genuine downpour. Little rainstorms just fly over the mountains out of nowhere, it turns out. So that was a lesson on not over managing the situation. Sometimes it’s okay to be hot for a minute and let the weather work.
Today, I walked 10.5 miles over the course of 7 hours, mostly uphill, which is the worst because my body just can’t oxygenate as well as it used to, due to the three-pound cabbage I’m apparently carrying in my abdomen (hat tip to Baby Center for that one). So I walk 50 steps, and stand for ten breaths. Repeat. I’m sure there’s a lesson I haven’t quite captured there. But I guess I’ve got 40 more days to figure it out.
I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking about you, wondering what exactly your “realness” means. The Medieval and Renaissance artists really loved depicting you in their own image, so we’ve got a lot of “bearded white guy,” he/his pronouns on the books. Dad always used to say he thought maybe you were a Black lady behind a desk. (When he asked if I was going alone, and I responded “I’m going with God,” he said, “Does she need a ticket?”) Recently, I’ve begun calling you “They,” most because, if you are in fact omniscient and omnipresent, that’s a plurality if ever I heard one, and gender neutral pronouns are definitely more appropriate.
I sometimes wonder if humans aren’t just some kind of Sims characters in a divine, multi-level, multi-player game. You and your friends sit in a room making us do shit to each other for status and kicks. For most of this game, you measured points in lives. Then somebody figured out it was a whole lot easier to measure status in money and now we’re stuck playing out this capitalism racket. Maybe Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad were just really advanced avatars who got to the “acolyte” level? Forgive my sacrilege. But seriously. Karma? Past lives? Blink twice if I’m right.
Since starting the Camino, I’ve already gotten into two pretty intense conversations about God and faith, both with individuals scarred by the things they’ve witnessed or experienced at the hands of the Catholic Church. Somehow I’m always the person inviting other people to consider whether believing in you creates possibilities that aren’t possible in a world where “There is no God.” I don’t intend to be an evangelical. But when someone says “All religion is bad,” I just have to have the conversation about their use of the word “all.”
Something I’ve realized I’ve been holding a long time is the idea that my life is my fault. Or my responsibility. Or both. And in one sense, I appreciate and accept how my choices have shaped me. But it hasn’t been all my doing. There’s something else at work here—circumstance, other people’s choices, coincidence, and synchronicity. How do I make sense of this melange without ascribing it to something bigger than me? Randomness just doesn’t cut it. What’s more, giving you some of the credit gives me the freedom to forgive myself, to accept my mistakes and the circumstances that led to them. And to believe that they have some deeper purpose in the fabric of this life.
I’ve felt a certainty I can’t shake that this journey is a necessary part of my karma, no matter when I was able to manifest it. I wasn’t sure if it would be now or later. (Thanks for calling again to remind me.) But I’m glad it’s now. It’s good to be here. I’m unsure all that will be revealed, but I’m looking forward to what you have to teach me in the days and weeks ahead.
Yours truly,
Alicia
March 21, 2022, Espinal, Spain
keep going. don't stop. we're out there. and so is god. in one shape or another.
Amazing writing. God bless you, sweetheart. I’m adding you to my prayers.