A month or so back I walked into a small stationary store and I saw a little red journal. I’ve never been much for journaling or owning fancy journals, but for some reason my soul was intrigued with this particular blank book.
I started writing in it almost immediately and its purpose took a strange turn – it became what I would call, a prayer journal. I’m not sure when I made the decision to start writing prayers, but that is what would come each time my pen touched paper. I began to write openly about my feelings, my problems and my issues with god.
I think this need to be honest to god about my feelings came from a sermon I heard at Origins in New York City. The preacher spoke about taking your tough questions to god. Now, he wasn’t exactly talking about my kind of questions, but the message stuck with me. It stuck enough that the little red book became a mediator of sorts between god and I.
Sometimes I write my entries to, “God,” sometimes to, “Goddess,” sometimes to, “Compassionate Being.” Regardless of the title, the driving purpose is fundamentally the same. I want a deeper relationship with the divine and I’ll stand through whatever conversation is necessary to get there. This tenacious desire is not new for me in relation to spirituality in general; I’ve worked diligently to build a life based on spiritual practice. Yet, this has been different. I have felt it is not just me wanting a deeper relationship with god, but god wanting a deeper relationship with me.
