God Pt.1

Somebody asked me who God is. I wasn't sure how to answer that question. I mean how the hell would I know? I'm in this shit with y'all. As clueless as everybody. Why would I be able to provide some insight no one else thought of.  They must have just been asking my opinion.
I mean I don't have some secret access to God. Certainly not any more than anyone else.
But it got me thinking about it. And  stumbling upon that Death and Dying book by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross got me wondering even more. I moreso began to wonder why we are here. Clearly we don't know what the hell we are doing here? Doesn't it sometimes feel like you went to bed one night, quite comfortably in the security of your home, fell into a sweet dream and woke up in the middle of the desert in some other country you can't even identify? Like why the fuck am I here? How did I get here? What the hell is going on? And before you can even make sense of what the hell happened, people just start talking to you and shit. Asking you why you haven't done this or said that. Imposing their expectations on you. Kicking and pushing you when you sit there, still bewildered, still confused, because they're frustrated you're in their way. They have somewhere important to go after all. And there you are, not knowing what the fuck is going on. Getting in their way.
So you get up, and before you can get kicked and pushed some more. You just start moving. You don't even know where the fuck you are going. You just start going in the direction of the crowd because at least that way you won't get stomped on and kicked anymore. And people won't yell at you to get the fuck out of their way.

You hope that as you stumble along, it will come to you. You know? The epiphany of what the hell is going on? The epiphany of where the fuck you are going and why? The epiphany of why you are here. And better yet, how to find your way back to your warm bed. Except now you can't remember shit about where you were before. Because before you were so comfortable you never bothered to notice where you were. You were so NOT wanting anything. Not scared or anxious that you never bothered yourself with finding out where you were and how to find it on a map. You never imagined you would get lost. Now here you are.

All you can do is pretend that you know what you are doing and where you are going. And then to your amazement and confusion, maybe because you seem to have a purpose in your movements, people are following you. Kids are following you. Their eyes are wide with hope and wonder and fear. They too have no idea what is going on. But if you help them, they're going to pretend, just like you. Now you're trying desperately to remember.
And maybe you even stop and yell to the crowd like, "Can you help me? I'm lost. I don't know where I am or where I'm going?" But they look at you like you are crazy. Then their dismay quickly turns to impatience and anger. Someone yells back to shut up and keep it moving. Someone complains you are blocking their view, blocking their path. Maybe you fight - insisting this is not where you belong. Maybe you stand still hoping it will come to you - what you are supposed to do. 

Maybe you freak out and scream and fight. But the more you do that, the more you are dismissed as just an annoying idiot in everyone's way. You soon learn that no one cares. Mostly because they don't know what you are talking about. The worst part is the memory you had of your cozy bed and the events before this, before now - is fading fast. In fact at this point it seems more like a feeling, an instinct, than an actual memory.
With your memory failing you you begin to doubt you were ever anywhere else. You also get used to moving along. You get used to the purposeful faces you see around you. You get used to the flashes of shared confusion, dismay and fear you see on their faces. You empathize because you hide those same fears and confusion. You toughen up in the process.
You no longer bother to scream and yell and cry because no one cares. Because even those who care don't understand what you are talking about. And now you are not even sure you understand what you talking about. This vague feeling. This second sense, if you will. That something isn't right. That you knew something before you knew this. That you came from somewhere you can't remember. It doesn't leave you. But you bury it. You become engrossed, entangled in the here and now and it's not long before you can't imagine it any other way. This is where you belong, you tell yourself. And this, my dear - is Life.