Posted June 30, 2013 by Marg Herder
I’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.