Letter to God: What is Love?

 Dear Heavenly Potter,

Are you my mudder or my fodder?

I was driving to UNM Taos this morning. I was thinking about getting some coffee but I knew I would load it with sugar which ain’t mmgood for me.

I tried intellectually talking myself out of it. “Don’t do it. Don’t do it. It’s bad.. Because of these reasons. Here’s a few reasons.” Then I maturely expressed each reason.

I thought I appealed to some smart side of myself - thought I solved the problem. But then I saw a little gas station that was right on my way and I said, “Fuck it,” hit the brakes, and turned in.

When I saw a woman speedily open the front door and got a lusty look at her bottom, I instantly thought, “Damn, I wish I had some of that in my life.”

There was a time where I would push away such thoughts. Now I try to be more honest and just listen to myself. Whatever I am feeling, I try to voice it. Sadly, there is so much ugliness inside of me, I just don’t know how to deal with it. Noticing and comprehending the magnitude of the junk inside of me makes me feel like there is nothing I can do to change it. If I tried, I imagine it would take a thousand years. I guess it’s one consolation that You are there. If You really are there and You want to help me, maybe that would be enough help to make the change.

So I spent $15. I thought, “Oh I’ll just get a coffee! No big deal! Not gonna spend that much!” But it’s like people know that. People charge less for certain things at fast food restaurants and other places but know that you’ll probably get a few more things with your purchase. And they’re right.

I passed by the fry section and noticed there were only meat-filled burritos. I didn’t really want a burrito but I would buy one if there was one. I asked the lady if she had any. She said, “No.” So I go back to trying to look at that one woman’s butt. Of course, only in a way where she won’t notice me doing it. But what if she knows? You can look away so many times. But I think women can feel it.

Then the other lady walks up to me and asks, “Want to wait 7 and a half minutes for me to make a vegetarian burrito?”

“Not really,” I think but don’t say. But my defenses are down. I want to look at that one woman’s butt more. “Who cares?” I think.

“Um, sure, thanks.” I say. And she gets to it.

Turns out the first woman with the nice butt works there. Turns out I purchase my things from her. What a weird feeling to talk to someone who is earnest with you when you want certain things from them. I look in her eyes as we talk to each other but it’s like we’re not looking at each other. She’s looking at me more than I’m looking at her. Because there is a veil of guilt covering my gaze.

I get my things and head out to UNM feeling sorry for myself.

“Oh well, another promising day ruined cuz I gave in to temptation.” I think.

I take another sip of my sugar-rich coffee.

Then, out of nowhere, a thought comes to my mind.

“What is love?”

I don’t know and I probably don’t care. Why would a sinful man with an ugly heart ask such a question? I don’t have lofty ideas. I don’t care about more profound truths.

But, hey, it doesn’t hurt to answer an idle thought right? I have nothing to lose.

“I don’t know what love is,” I think. “I just spent some time with my family. It seems like they don’t care for me. It seems like people always want something from each other. Love is something you give when you know you’re going to get something in return.”

But that can’t be right. Is that how God loves? Doesn’t God want to just give love? That seems to be the character of the being as far as I know or hear.

I mean, that seems impossible to me. I don’t know much about that. I don’t know how someone can only want to give something.

I feel like such an idiot when I’m with people. I just revert to telling them what I believe is the truth. I think I’m helping them. Helping someone is love, right?

But it doesn’t always feel that way. How often do I try to help someone with what I think is the truth only to have them argue against what I say or dismiss me?

How do people in the higher heavens love? How can they love someone like me? I have nothing to offer. I’m a shit cannon. I blast shit all the time. They know more than me. I shouldn’t even talk. It’s like an insult for me to talk and they’re just humoring me. I can’t believe anyone would ever be interested in something I have to say, especially more developed people in the spirit world.

But something amazing happens. Somewhere in all of that wondering, I begin to cry. It’s like the sheer effort of trying to compare and contrast what love is to what it’s not, even theoretically, is somehow having an effect on my heart.

I don’t know how that’s possible. I thought my day was going to suck. I just gave in to about 13 addictions not 10 minutes ago and now I’m thinking about profound things? Sometimes I’m just so utterly confused about everything, it makes my head spin.

How can you have a delightful time in the midst of anguish? It’s all so strange.

It’s like God’s attempts at working on me are actually having their effect. I don’t get it. Damned if I know how it all works. But for the briefest of minutes, I’m able to get into some real feelings.

How can God want to help me when my heart is anything but contrite? Most of the time, I just fear all the pain and suffering I would experience if I chose the path of sin. Those seem to be the only things that motivate me to ask for God’s help. I wish I could say I really want God’s goodness and love and want a brighter future for myself but that’s just not being honest.

If I’m honest, I don’t really believe in that.

I hate people. I blame the world for the ills I experience. I blame you, not-so-dear reader. Oh no, even you cannot evade my awful judgment.

How can love exist when all around me is evil? I am a reed blowing in the wind. I talk of God. I talk of love. But these are fairytale visions I cry myself to sleep with. I conjure these things up like spells. Sometimes I feel good. Sometimes I feel bad. I don’t know what the fuck is going on most of the time. I try to be better. To get better than where I am and I fall flat on my face and am utterly humiliated. Time and time again.

I try to tell people about God and get mockery, ridicule, and indifference in return. I try to be a valiant warrior and keep going at it. But I fail. I don’t want to. I want people to accept me - to validate me - to say, “Oh, maybe you’re right for all I know.” Give me something, dammit.

I’m a reed blowing in the wind. If you laugh at my beliefs about God and love, I’ll crumple like a dry leaf.

I wish I knew why God touched my heart this morning. I don’t know how He/She can stand it. I would have left myself out in the cold long ago. I would have given up on myself. And yet God doesn’t.