MY RELIGION      By BBWrighter2020

I’m not the praying kind of person. I don’t admire any deity if there is one, a God, I mean. Why would she want humans to waste time in prayers? 

“Get busy, get something done!” she would say. 

Wouldn’t it be better to insist on multi-tasking instead of wasting time in meaningless prayer? 

Instead of prayer, one should self-talk or meditate while performing any one of human’s necesssary tasks.

 I have recently decided that if I have to show honor to a higher power, then I wish to honor REAL power. This power, for me, is the power that forms the universe, builds all of us, and controls all our needs.

I shall honor and worship the atom.

The atom is the building block of all matter. Matter makes up everything, from humans to our Earth and everything on it. The matter is of what all the stars and planets in the entire universe are made.

But I agree, it would be a pretty big task to worship every atom in the universe, so I think I’ll praise the holy trinity of atoms: two hydrogens and one oxygen. These three atoms together form the magnificent, the immortal, the ubiquitous WATER molecule.

Water is the giant among all the molecular compounds which elemental atoms form.

Water is an anomaly. Why is it called an anomaly?  That means it is different, not like other molecules.  For starters, this little water molecular is a universal solvent. It can dissolve or breakdown just about any substance given enough time. Then water can transport those suspended pieces to other places. The Earth would be a nearly static, unchanging planet without the eroding and depositing ability of water. Over time water creates and destroys mountains and fills up valleys.

Another anomaly of water is that being one of the very smallest of all molecules in existence, even smaller than most of the other elemental atoms. Water can easily flow in and out of the cells of living things. It flows all on its own, going from places of high concentration to areas of low concentration, thereby regularly supplying cells with all the water they need without these cells having to spend any energy. Then that same water can move back out of a cell all on its own also, thereby all the processes of life can proceed being suspended in the miracle molecule.

Water also absorbs a lot of heat; it has one of the highest specific heats among common substances. Therefore, water can absorb loads of heat before it rises in temperature. Then water holds onto that heat for a long time before releasing it very slowly over time. This one little fact keeps snow from melting too suddenly in the springtime as the air temperatures rise in the mountain. The slowing melting snow can better ensure a steady supply of river water throughout the dry summer days.

And weirdly, water is the only compound that expands when it freezes, so frozen water takes up more space making it less dense. Therefore, ice floats instead of sinking to the bottoms of lakes, streams, and oceans. The floating frozen water insulates the water below and keeps deep waters from completely freezing and therefore killing all the life in those oceans, lakes, and reservoirs.

Well, that is a small glimpse of my respect for the water molecule and its marvelous, almost magical abilities.

So welcome to my church, go ahead and jump into the pool. Lay back and float. Feel the power with me of my personal spiritual and omnipresent God as it supports, cools, and restores your body. 

Pray with me, but work while you do pray, get some work done. Water cannot do everything for you. 

My favorite sound?

I just identified it, just this moment. 

I’ve never voiced it, but deep within my heart, I knew that sound immediately upon re-hearing it a few nights ago, and I felt again the serenity it gives me. 

I have named it, so it now exists.

This sound and darkness are braided together in my memory, rich blackness, warm and cozy as a handmade flannel quilt kind of darkness. 

I can sense familiar smells wafting from a deep, down pillow in which my head still lies when I am comfortable. To be nestled deeply while in those precious moments before entirely awake, surrounded by air warmed and dense with a lover’s breath, I love to search for it before coaxing my still clumsy mind to process a new day. 

I admit I have always sought this noise, between the darkness of sunset and sunrise, but rarely of lately have I found it.

It’s not the chirp of hungry morning finches, although so pleasant a greeting for the day. 

It’s not the sound of multiple syncopated ticking alarm clocks marking my wasting of time.

Nor is it the sound of early risers stomping beneath my window, hustling to begin their day.

My favorite music is the delicate breathing of a slumbering partner, the rhythmical pulling in of air, then the lower pitch of warmed air released from within their soul followed by a brief silence before beginning again. The relentless proof of life. 

At first, this sound belonged to my husband, whose sleeping breath I searched for in the loneliness of my insomnia.

I felt comfort in hearing his nearby breathing.

My husband left, and the sound was gone, but not truly missed because of the funny sounds of my cat’s half-purr and half-snore. This cat gratefully insisted on sleeping near me and I adored the nightly performance.

My cat died over a year ago, and until now, I hadn’t realized how much I missed finding the sounds of slumber in the darkness of nighttime. I must have given up because, until now, I had forgotten all about my love for that sweet noise.

Until just these past few nights as I share a room with my best friend on our travel adventure. I lay last night trying to go to sleep, wondering why I found her breathing on the other side of the room so fascinating. Then it hit me; I had found the gift of a sound my heart so loves. 

On this trip I am able, once again, to feel the pleasure and comfort of knowing someone whom I love is alive and near me, and I am not alone. 

COLORS

                           

You would think a patchwork quilt of thousands of colors of green would be enough.

 But no, the quilter of the scene before me had to add dabs of flowery blues and purples

 and a bright red spot representing a woman bent over working in the field of green. 

A few alarming contradictions of black and white, 

perhaps meant by the quilter’s knots to be cows grazing on the golden braided grass plumes. 

The cloth has been deftly woven with silken threads 

shimmering in purples and reds from the side.

And entire patch sprinkled with yarns the colors of the rainbow upon the patchwork green.

(written Mar. 30, 2020 on the drive to Chechaouen, Morocco)