I Am God, Who Passes All Understanding
I was 16 when I saw “Ben-Hur” (1959) for the first time - all however-many-hours there was of it. Perhaps, the most worn-out sections of the videotape, by the time I’d finished with it, were: any scenes with Stephen Boyd in them (my crush, at the time) - and the opening titles, with Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam juxtaposed against the soaring score of Miklos Rozsa. (Coincidentally, Miklos Rozsa and I also share a birthday, April 18. It must be something of a special day. )
I was 16 then; at 48, I am three times as old now as I was then. At the time, I was absolutely sure about what I wanted to do, and my purpose in the world - an artist, writer and musician, in that order - but I wasn’t yet clear of my approach. However, I always knew I had it in me to do what I wanted to achieve - for myself, not according to anyone else's designs for me - come hell or high water; and that if I chose to go against this grain, it would lead to all kinds of wrong. Don’t ask me how, I just knew.
Now, 32 years of an unashamedly colourful and creative life later (I was clearly blessed with living in interesting times), there is no other way to say it: I am God. I always was, but now I know I am, for sure. I am the Great Creator.
Deep down, I have always believed myself to be God; and God’s manifestation on Earth in the form of myself, perhaps explains why the lot of bearing the name Christ-ina, fell to me.
I’ve written about my good friend Naz before. A short while ago, I was going through a particularly hair-shirted phase, and mentioned to him that I reckoned I was something along the lines of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, fallen to earth.
“Oh no!” he retorted, “that’s my role!”
“In that case, we’ll have to fight over it,” I replied, “or I’ll have to be God. I am, anyway!”
I’ve been told that I am deeply arrogant, in believing myself to be God; and frankly, I don’t care. I tell these people that they should try it, some time; and they shy away, and say that they wouldn’t want to be God.
Ah, now, you see, that’s where people fall, at the first hurdle. Because, if they don’t think very much of themselves to begin with, or believe that they could ever do better, or accomplish great things, than why should they, or when will they?
And, they don’t want the responsibility. They do not dare to take it on; it is a subject of such enormity for them that they don’t want to touch it with a bargepole. They dare not subject themselves to God’s scrutiny; to the boundless joy, and crushing lows, which come with the territory.
It’s too gargantuan of an entity for them to wrap their heads around; it’s too big a task for them to take on board. They dare not take the time to dream - lest they give birth to some delightful pearl within themselves, which would take them out of their mediocrity, and propel them to the next level.
I’ve always thought “big”. I’ve never thought “small” - never in my life. Fundamentally, I am invested in my originality of thought, and my legacy - what I will leave behind, when I leave this world; and I honestly couldn’t care about all the other stuff.
God is not humble. I am not humble. I don’t do “we are very humble”. I have an ego the size of a house, and am justly proud of my legacy. I have no regrets about anything I have done in life, for better, or worse.
I’ve been told I am a narcissist, and again, I don’t care; that's just a label - let people say that, if it makes them feel better about themselves. In any event, I don’t believe I am a true description of the word; those who know me well, will know that I’m not especially concerned with the material side of things, surface gloss, marriages of convenience, and all the baggage that comes with them:
“See the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these”.
And no, I am not always selfish; those who know me well will know that I do and can care, and be very giving. I have given gifts to the world, and continue to do so at every opportunity; creative gifts, which, in this time and space, are accorded the recognition of an ocean’s drop.
And yet, I don’t trouble my patience waiting for accolades. Why should I? I am too busy with the sparks inside my head. Just as much of the world does not listen to myself, so it does not listen to God - most of the time. There are those that might ask themselves, is God here? No, God is out - or so it seems, to many.
I prefer to frame things another way:
* God is in all of us. We are God. If we do not believe that God is within us, we are on the path to certain self-destruction. People hate the word “God” because they associate it with religion. God is not necessarily religious. Religion was built around God, not they, around it.
* Great things are not created unless one believes oneself to be God. We can do all we dream and more, in the atlas of our minds.
* We can all be God to each other, at whatever level of significance. For example, it was recently becoming obvious that I had started drinking again. An acquaintance, who had some vested interest in my staying sober, lost no time in pestering me to go to AA meetings. So it was that, encouraged by them, I again started going on a regular basis. - This time around, I have to say I felt just a little different; it was as though my ability to discuss God, had ultimately caught up with the AA doctrine; and it was also part of my personal journey of “physician, heal thyself”.
* God is our intuition. God knows what is right for us, with honesty and without fear. Each day, I try to do something which is right be me - and right by God. (You will know for sure, if it is right by God.)
* God is not perfect; their shadow side is the Devil - which they do, and should, acknowledge as part of their consciousness - but also treat as with an iron fist, in a velvet glove. Since I am God, therefore, I am responsible for whatever good and bad is manifested by myself. I would hope, it would be mostly good.
* God is life, and, as life is God, so it glitters with a thousand facets. Sex is one; love, nature, poetry and music are others; whatever else you like are still others; and so on, and so on.
Recently, a well-seasoned astrologer whose writings I have enjoyed more than most, wrote: “Which incarnation of the Mother Goddess are you?”
In response, I wrote on their Facebook page that I was no incarnation of the Mother Goddess; because I could not be any one incarnation; I was in fact higher than one incarnation.
When I hear people talking about gods and goddesses, I sigh inwardly. The polytheistic mindset is something I have a problem with, and I’ll explain why: firstly, it smacks too much of fragmentation. Secondly, it smacks too much of artifice, of a human invention. It’s clunky; it’s something people dream up to entertain themselves, a fairy story to explain away order and chaos. Most of the time, you can’t explain order or chaos. It just is.
Perhaps the best allegory I’ve every come across in literature which explains God, is Charles Kingsley’s The Water Babies; a firm favourite of mine, and not only during my childhood. From Mrs Doasyouwouldbedoneby, to Mrs Bedonebyasyoudid, to Mother Carey, to the main protagonist Tom, to Grimes - all the necessary characters are in here, and if one were never to read anything else, one should read this.
* God shows us what we should be doing, and what we should not be doing. If things appear to be going wrong for us, this is because we are attempting to do something which either is not in alignment with us; or, because we cannot or do not, want to perceive the lesson we are being taught.
* There is a German proverb “hilf dich selbst, so hilft dir Gott” which translates as “if you help yourself, then God will help you”.
* Where does all my creativity come from? Surely, it comes from God. All the best creators, ultimately, do believe in God, whether formally religious or no. Bach and Beethoven rightly recognized that their genius - whether recognized during their lifetime or no - could have no earthly origin, and had some spiritual basis. Who are we to argue?
The “Art” agenda as we know it (propagated by “Art” schools, media and the like) is completely devoid of God. They have an agenda. God does not have an agenda. God is here to bring forth the original thought, the wellspring in all of us as individuals. God does not favour copyists; this is not what we are here for.
My mother - and my Art lecturers - used to get terribly frustrated with me for wanting to be original. My mother eventually exploded: “Why can’t you just copy what everyone else does? Why do you have to be so insistent on being original, all the time?”
“Mum,” I said, with a steady gaze, “I’m an artist, for heaven’s sake. Are you stupid?”
* God is neither completely male nor female; yet, I am God, both male and female. Yes, God was also a woman.
* I am the beginning, and the end; although I have no beginning, nor end.
- On that note, and to conclude, I’ll leave you with the English translation of the ancient Welsh poem “Taliesin” - plus my rewrite of it for a song of mine - written nearly a decade ago now - which you can find here: https://queenchristinathe2nd.bandcamp.com/track/taliesin
I am Taliesin. I sing perfect metre,/ Which will last to the end of the world./ My patron is Elphin...
I know why there is an echo in a hollow;/ Why silver gleams; why breath is black; why liver is bloody;
Why a cow has horns; why a woman is affectionate;/ Why milk is white; why holly is green;
Why a kid is bearded; why the cow-parsnip is hollow;/ Why brine is salt; why ale is bitter;
Why the linnet is green and berries red;/ Why a cuckoo complains; why it sings;
I know where the cuckoos of summer are in winter.
I know what beasts there are at the bottom of the sea;
How many spears in battle; how may drops in a shower;
Why a river drowned Pharaoh's people;/ Why fishes have scales./ Why a white swan has black feet...
I have been a blue salmon,/ I have been a dog, a stag, a roebuck on the mountain,
A stock, a spade, an axe in the hand,/ A stallion, a bull, a buck,
I was reaped and placed in an oven;/ I fell to the ground when I was being roasted
And a hen swallowed me./ For nine nights was I in her crop.
I have been dead, I have been alive.
I am Taliesin.
(Anonymous - Welsh, 13th century - “The Mabinogion”)
Taliesin (Rewritten by Christina Crimari/ Brodie, 2013)
1. When perfect metre found its pitch and song/ The legend and the patron claimed me both,
And echoes I remembered all too well/ Shot like sharp silver from the hollow’s mouth;
Now silver shines the knife that slices liver/ From horned cow; stop and see the maiden shiver
Where she was warm before – into a corner/ She’s painted, white as milk; and as the halls are
2. Decked with holly, garlanded with green,/ As goats grow beards, and roots will wither
From the inside, I know the wherefores and the whys/ Of all these things; now as I shake the sea
Onto my plate, but not into my cup,/I recognize the startled songbird’s green,
The berry sings from out the bush in wine/And ruby, and we hear the cuckoo boast.
3. Let him – he’ll never know that I know more;/ Beasts with their bellies on the ocean floor
Alone I’ve counted, with the spears of war,/ Raindrops, that swelled the Red Sea to a storm
And caught Egyptians, drowned them where they stood,
Sped fish with scales, and swan with blackened foot;
As salmon jumps, and dog hunts stag and roe,/ The weaponry of mankind’s duly thrown
4. At chieftains of the herd with hearts of oak;/ An ear of wheat is tossed into the fire,
And cheats it, to be swallowed by a hen;/ Will she cheat me, before the nine nights’ end?
I am alive, I never will be dead.
I’m Taliesin, for all time, without end.
© Christina Brodie 2013
(“Taliesin” means “Shining Brow”)
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