God
Metadata
Highlights
- When do you find your god, mine shows up when I give up on what I was supposed to become and listen to the rain instead, rapid but growing lighter now, diminuendo, less and less ambitious, let the dogs run around in the mud on a cool summer morning, let them smell the air and hunt for small animals under the bushes, we all need more time to be our savage selves. (View Highlight)
- My daughter drew a picture of a girl with words on the sides but she covered them with her hand so I couldn’t read them.
“Don’t read my emo words, they’re embarrassing,” she said.
“I write emo words all over the place,” I said. “What else is there to do?” (View Highlight)
- what matters more than skin, what matters less than being what they thought you should be?
We murmur precious prayers to ourselves every day but then we forget them, surrendering to a series of mundane interruptions, cycling through erasure, insomnia, amnesia, we don’t celebrate our survival, we don’t rejoice in honor of our brittle bones, still alive on the face of the planet through some miracle, we don’t see the divine at work in our cell phones, we don’t hear ourselves through the boozy chatter. Each morning we remind ourselves that everything we do is too small, too stupid, don’t look at my emo words, don’t listen to my emo thoughts, don’t let the wet air into our dry house, shut out the loud noises that scare the animals who live here, seal it all up like Tupperware, but my god is out there in the wet grass napping with fat worms, my god is up there in the wet trees screaming for more, open the windows. (View Highlight)
- Keep collecting gods like old coins, hoard all of those blessings and ask for even more, still humble like they need you to be, still crying out for mercy, still full of that faith they crave so much, every god so pervy for devotion. But all gods are avoidant and codependent at the same time, always waking you up in the middle of the night with their loneliest thoughts but then they never text back, always breadcrumbing you until you find religion again. Anyway what do you want, a whole new paradigm, we only have so many years left, we have to work with whatever they give us, god only knows what comes next, cartoon lightning bolts fifteen miles away, birds singing precious prayers for the sky alone, stop drinking and remember everything, learn to honor these juicy bones, learn to celebrate your clumsy ordinary life, dance at every party like you alone know the moral to this story, it’s not too late to open all the windows, it’s cool outside today, these gods are playing the long game, patient seduction in each raindrop, let it all in and scream for more. (View Highlight)
title: “God”
author: “Heather Havrilesky”
url: ”https://askmolly.substack.com/p/god-d4c”
date: 2023-12-19
source: reader
tags: media/articles
God
Metadata
Highlights
- When do you find your god, mine shows up when I give up on what I was supposed to become and listen to the rain instead, rapid but growing lighter now, diminuendo, less and less ambitious, let the dogs run around in the mud on a cool summer morning, let them smell the air and hunt for small animals under the bushes, we all need more time to be our savage selves. (View Highlight)
- My daughter drew a picture of a girl with words on the sides but she covered them with her hand so I couldn’t read them.
“Don’t read my emo words, they’re embarrassing,” she said.
“I write emo words all over the place,” I said. “What else is there to do?” (View Highlight)
- what matters more than skin, what matters less than being what they thought you should be?
We murmur precious prayers to ourselves every day but then we forget them, surrendering to a series of mundane interruptions, cycling through erasure, insomnia, amnesia, we don’t celebrate our survival, we don’t rejoice in honor of our brittle bones, still alive on the face of the planet through some miracle, we don’t see the divine at work in our cell phones, we don’t hear ourselves through the boozy chatter. Each morning we remind ourselves that everything we do is too small, too stupid, don’t look at my emo words, don’t listen to my emo thoughts, don’t let the wet air into our dry house, shut out the loud noises that scare the animals who live here, seal it all up like Tupperware, but my god is out there in the wet grass napping with fat worms, my god is up there in the wet trees screaming for more, open the windows. (View Highlight)
- Keep collecting gods like old coins, hoard all of those blessings and ask for even more, still humble like they need you to be, still crying out for mercy, still full of that faith they crave so much, every god so pervy for devotion. But all gods are avoidant and codependent at the same time, always waking you up in the middle of the night with their loneliest thoughts but then they never text back, always breadcrumbing you until you find religion again. Anyway what do you want, a whole new paradigm, we only have so many years left, we have to work with whatever they give us, god only knows what comes next, cartoon lightning bolts fifteen miles away, birds singing precious prayers for the sky alone, stop drinking and remember everything, learn to honor these juicy bones, learn to celebrate your clumsy ordinary life, dance at every party like you alone know the moral to this story, it’s not too late to open all the windows, it’s cool outside today, these gods are playing the long game, patient seduction in each raindrop, let it all in and scream for more. (View Highlight)