Whispers in the Dark

   By Jane R.

At times, the voice of my god is deafening - I hear her at every moment, notice her in everything I see. It is easy to believe when the evidence is talking within your very being. At those times I do not count faith as a matter of great effort. No harder than breathing, it just exists.

But there are other times when her call fades to a whisper - and those when it seems to falter. Then I find myself wondering, is it that my hearing is overwhelmed by my fear, disbelief, or insecurity? Or is it that at those times I truly hear what is there - the sound of silence?

These questions are where I believe "faith" truly resides - the ability to continue, to hope that the Divine exists, despite all seeming proof to the opposite. An atheist might laugh and ask why I continue to try and delude myself. And I have queried that as well. If it is at my moment of greatest fear that I do not hear that which I most need, how can it exist? Surely that is the time when I am truly listening, stripped of my pretence, naked to the universe?

So, why do I hear nothing then?

This question haunted me after I saw my brother almost die. I would have given anything to have prevented the pain and trauma he experienced. I cried out for solace, for support, as I cradled his broken body. And the only thing I heard was the echo of my own voice.

I was alone.

By myself I found the strength to comfort him. I found the ability to remain calm and collected and get us both through that horrific time.

Is my god an external presence I relate to, or simply a reflection of my need, my desire? I felt no divine presence guiding me.

Why not?

I was a devout believer. Why would my god desert me when I needed her most?

Over the years since I have continued to ask that. Each time I face a crisis, the question resurfaces.

And finally an answer as well. "The echo of my own voice" pointed the way. Our gods are within us all - whether you believe in separate deities or in a universal life force doesn't matter - we are connected on some level, and contain within us the potential to be gods. In every mythos there are humans who have risen up to join the ranks of deities - Indian, Greek, Babylonian, Egyptian, Roman, Celtic, and so on. The gods may be separate to us, but we are able to become one with them.

It just takes time and learning. And the right moment.

Now, I am not saying I am a god - or anywhere near that. But those times when I scream for help are the times I walk the cusp between humanity and divinity, and the resounding silence is one of waiting. Like when a child takes her first steps. The initial pause in the air as everyone watches. No one moves, yet everyone is poised to leap in and sweep up the baby if she falls. They know she is fine, even if she feels scared.

I think that silent pause is what I hear.

For I have also realised that while I hear silence, I feel something completely different. It's just that I am so focused upon shouting for help that I neglect to notice the hands waiting to catch me.

Maybe because so far, I haven't fallen. I have found within me the strength to walk alone - and isn't that what every parent wants for their child?

My god is with me. She just doesn't engage in idle conversation - something I really should have realised a long time ago.
   

Comments for Jane can be sent care of Albineus Equinus, at The Pagan Heart
   

Auguste Rodin's "The Storm".

Enter The Grove
On this tree let us pin the fluttering flags of our prayers that the wind may carry them to the gods.

This section is devoted to prayers our staff and readers are offering up on behalf of friends and family. Please send any requests to Albineus Equinus
   

My Sister walking the Shadow Paths As you walk in the darkness, remember the light always returns. And on those nights darkest to your soul, look up and see the stars - you are not alone, but rather watched over by the millions of souls who walked this path before you. May they share their strength when you need it most, and their healing for all times. The Mother's Voice whispers in your heart and head as she guides you through this. You know this, even if it is at times hard to remember. Your sisters are many - separated from you by space, but not by love. We all walk different paths - single threads in the tapestry of life, we are forever woven together. Catherine