Supernatural Writing Contest - Spiritual Awakening Through... Um... "Fervent" Prayer

"What kind of game are you playing with people? How in the hell am I supposed to know what to call you? No one has ever told me the truth about anything in my entire time on this rotten rock! You want me to praise your name but your name is some big secret and if I get it wrong? Oh well, sucks to be me! Are we your funny, funny pets, just something to laugh at? Is that what the fuck is going on around here? You get a thrill when you watch pathetic people desperately try to please you, you think it is entertaining to watch the devil just torment us ruthlessly? Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you? Why should I give a fuck what you think about anything? How in the fuck an I supposed to know your fucking NAME?!"

That may not be an exact quote, but it is pretty close. You may be excused for not realizing that was a prayer, but I assure you it was. It was the most sincere prayer I ever prayed, one that came straight from the bottom of my heart. I was literally thrashing about on my kitchen floor, sobbing hysterically. This was not even rock bottom, that had been a year earlier. This was simply a reprise and I was inconsolable. I could not survive another trip to rock bottom and I could not understand why I was being knocked down when my recovery was still so fragile.

How I hit rock bottom does not really matter, how I began to stand again does. I had been trying very hard to understand the Divine in deeper and deeper ways. I had discovered Sacred Geometry and was studying frequency healing and truly sensed myself becoming more grounded, more connected. It was a long, arduous journey and I would not be exaggerating to say my life depended upon my success. I was proud of my progress. There had been too many days that I woke up no better or even worse than the day before but now I had a long string of days, weeks, months, that had gotten better and better. Then it all got ripped out from under me and I was knocked flat, and more than a little pissed off about it.

I tried to calm myself, took some deep breaths, walked around a little, but there was no fighting the vortex sucking me down into despair. It was too cruel, I was unequipped to deal with that kind of pain. I was actually afraid I could not survive it. How could I believe in a God that gave a damn about me with all this going on?

It is an interesting thing, how humans think under duress. For some reason in that dark hour the thing I was really upset with God about was this notion of a secret name that we are to use when we pass to the other side. I had no idea what that name might be. I had no idea who I could trust to tell me what the name was or where to learn it. I had been "red pilled" long enough to understand that I had been lied to by everyone about everything, everywhere I had ever been. OK, that might be slightly overstated, but not much. I knew most of the people lying to me believed their lies with all their hearts, they had been taught those lies by parents, professors and clergymen themselves, all of whom had the best of intentions. They all just had bad information which they passed on generation after generation. The notion that I could not enter Heaven without information for which I had no reliable source... Well, I got down on my knees and I began to pray.

OK, I got on the floor, threw a temper tantrum like a two year old and swore at God like a sailor. I screamed. I cried. I carried on until I was hoarse and then a little longer. I don't know how long, except "as long as I needed." I had to let it all out and I did. When I was utterly drained at last, I lay sprawled across the floor panting with the exhaustion of my hysteria. Tears no longer flowed, I had no more energy to rage at God, all I could do was lay there and breathe.

It was not a voice, it was not a presence. Words are so pathetic when one needs to describe some things. A calmness, a serenity came to be with me. It lay over me like a satin sheet, gentle as a summer breeze. As I drew in a long breath, a reality came to my awareness. I had given up, I had no more will to breathe, yet the Universe continued to breathe me. As I exhaled, I felt the Universe drawing my breath out, and I suddenly understood my body's physical connection to the Divine was, literally, my breath. Each inhalation was a gift of life, each exhalation was my praise to the Divine.

I was pulling out of it, coming up from the darkness, but still troubled by the silly notion of not knowing the correct name. I lay there just breathing and I was given the notion that that most sacred name of the Divine is the sound of our breath. It has been noted by others that the sound one makes inhaling (with an open mouth) is roughly "Yah" and exhalation is roughly "weh." I am not trying to convince anyone that is the correct, most sacred, holy name and if you don't use it you won't get into Heaven.I am telling you that is what came to me on one very dark night, and that is the name that lifted me out of my Hell.

I have been comforted for years now by the realization that when God is done with me here, my breathing shall simply cease. Until then, apparently I am good enough for God. Praise Yah-weh!

Photo taken at sunset tonight in the back yard with my Fuji FinePix S8300