How It Begins

Posted June 30, 2013 by Marg Herder 

"Bud" - Photo by Marg HerderI’ve been struggling with how to begin this.

How to tell you this perfectly imperfect human being I call “me” is going to try to illuminate a little of Where She Is, here, in this perfectly imperfect incarnation.

She is inexplicable.  Words cannot accurately portray what it is to know God, because while our words are designed to define and confine,  Ruach Elohim (the underlying Principle of creation) exists to expand and encompass.

“For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe.” (1 Corinthians 1:21).

So all the words, all the wisdom we go around collecting and writing down, all the separating and confining we do, that isn’t the important part.  The important part is our belief in the validity of our experience of God.  Knowing She is here, present, and breathing through our lives.

And that’s what I want to try to share with you.  Where I am when I experience Her Peace, when I hear Her Word, when I’m comforted by Her Love.  So maybe the next time She lightly brushes past your life you’ll notice.  And maybe one of these times when you feel Her you’ll turn, you’ll start to move after Her, saying quietly, “I’m gonna follow You.  I can’t think of  anything more important to do.”

Because that’s how we fix this.  This big whole thing.  Following.  Surrendering to where She is.

From what I can tell She’s hard to follow.  Because of how She is and how we have been taught to perceive.  It’s like running after the breeze in a field of grasses.  You try to feel, you try to see how the stems are bending around you, and you run along with it.  You think you are going along okay, and all of sudden you realize it’s shifted and you didn’t notice, so now you’re running against the wind.

But unlike the breeze, which is subtle enough, She often seems just plain elusive.   I’ve got 50 years invested in letting my ego and rational mind run my show, and they are loud, rowdy, fearful adolescents who take themselves way too seriously, and are incredibly adept at ignoring not only their humble mortality but also anything not like themselves.

There’s one thing I’ve got going for me, and that’s the fact that I cry and forget myself when She is near.  I cry when I hear Her talk or sing through someone, I cry when I see Her illuminated in some beautiful creation, I cry when She looks out through someone else’s eyes.  I cry because my heart swells open and the love spills out and flows all over my body and makes the top of my head pound before finally pushing the tears from my eyes.  That’s how I know Her.  And using this like a compass, I sometimes manage to keep up with Her for a few moments before I (time and again) lose track and get wrapped up in the mundane ego business of being me.

So that’s how I’m going to begin this.  Confessing to you my uncertain ability to keep up with Her long enough to be of much use in describing where She is, and making sure you understand that She cannot be conveyed by the restrictive means I have of exposition, but also confessing my eager willingness to make the effort.

And because I believe that it’s best to begin all new creations with clear statements of intention, here’s what I intend with this new creation, Where She Is.

I intend to always write lovingly and truthfully.  And I intend to be fearless enough to be wrong and fearless enough to say so when I find out I am.  I intend to trust you with everywhere I find Her, not just happy, beautiful places but also the difficult, desolate ones.

I intend to compassionately portray where I see Her, where I hear Her, and to do my best to describe what is going on when She tickles the hair on the back of my neck.

I intend to always breathe love into these bundles of words.  And after I’m sure they are as true and fearless as I can make them, I’ll leave them sitting out for you, right here.  Please help yourself.  And if you decide to lovingly leave your own bundle of words right here also, for others to enjoy, I’ll receive them gratefully.

Lē Isaac Weaver
Lē Weaver identifies as a non-binary writer, musician, and feminist spiritual seeker. Their work draws attention to: the ongoing trauma experienced by women and LGBTQIA people in this “Christian” society; Christ/Sophia’s desire that each of us move deeper into our own practice of non-violence; and the desperate need to move away from an androcentric conception of God.


  1. As you know, dear Marg, I have written an article called “Why is it so Difficult to Come Out as Incarnations of God Herself?” due to be posted on my web site in mid-September. So you are aware of how inevitably I love your blog and the title which refers both to the Divine She and the human Marg Herder. But I want everyone who reads this site to know how enthusiastically I endorse your witness. Bless you, dear sister and friend.

  2. This is Splendid, Marg! I love your title and your first gift to us here. You embody Her, so where you are She is.I agree with Virginia that we are incarnations of Her. You are generous to write Her loving, gracious words for us to read here.



  3. Because I have known you, Marg Herder, since your childhood, I can say that you are sincere. Because I once stayed with you and your brother for a week while your parents were out of town, I can say that you are creative. (!)

    Sincerely creative. Graciously gifted. Intelligently thoughtful. Openly God-loving. To me, these are partial descriptions of the beautiful person you have become. Imperfection describes you as it describes us all. But I know that God appreciates your struggle. She leaps with you as you try to find Her in the wind. She guides you as you center yourself in Her bosom. She delights in you. Know that, and bask in the knowledge.

    Thank you for your blog. I love you.

  4. Love this, Marg. Can’t wait to read more of what you’ve written. Love your openness here, your willingness to share your heart. So grateful to know you in real life, too.

  5. The institutional church closed the door on Marg Herder, and instead she busted through a window to minister to an entire movement.


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