Now

This is where God is. This is where life is. All the past is brought forward into the present and is here, whether we like it or not. Whether we’re aware of it or not. Encoded in our experience of things. Encoded in the things themselves. In us ourselves.

And the future is here also. The full rounded possibility of the future resides in the present like DNA. Like DNA that given enough time may morph into anything. Any shape. Any structure that may be imagined. Plastic possibility.

And here is where we are. Ever. Balanced on a point in space-time that is both insubstantial and real. That is immaterial and actual. That is emergent. That is an idea merely.

The already and the not yet intersect at this one point on which we stand in space-time.

The now is the doorway through which all things are possible. Eternity is possible. The possibility of eternity is present. Is in the eternal present. Is present eternally.

God is always in the present. This is his nature. His supernatural nature. His supernal nature. He exists outside of space-time in the everlasting present that always is and was and will be. When he enters in, this is the doorway he uses. His activity is always present. Always eternal. Always now.

When we experience him, this is the doorway we use. He uses.

We obsess about the past. About what has happened and we have done. About what we have not done. About what might have been. About what we might have done. About what we might have not done. An only-if kind of circulation in our minds and hearts. And we obsess about the future. About what could be. Only if, we say. We think. Only if this or that were to happen. Then everything would be. Would be. Smooth as mouse hair. Then we would live happily ever after. We think. Or, Oh no. We think. What if this were to happen. Or that. What would happen then. Oh no. Oh no.

Well of course. This is death to God. This obsessive business. This round and round. Because it takes us out. Away. The doorway disappears. And we circulate in utter darkness. Cycle off into the nothing of Godlessness. The blankness of that.

It is hell. This cyclotron of the future. This cyclotron of the past. These circulations we make are in hell, as Dante so insightfully wrote. Hell is arranged in obsessive circles. Is arranged around loci in the past. Loci in the future. Loci that are not God. And because they are not God, we obsessively circulate about them.

Loci that are not now. That are not yet real or are no longer real and therefore do not exist. Have no basis. No standing, as it were.

Now is expansive. Is elastic. Time in the now can seem long because of all that may happen. Or it can seem short because of all that may happen. God occupies this time that is actually timeless, and he is always busy. Fully occupies us, if we let him. If we ask him. If we go to him. If we step off the edge of the known universe through the doorway of the now. Step onto the now water. The now that is through the doorway and is everlastingly present.

Or maybe he is the one to pass through the doorway. Maybe we are minding our own business, not particularly looking for him, and he emerges in a vision or in the voice of someone we thought we knew or do not know or in lights that may not be here for everyone or in lights that are here for everyone or in the form of someone who seems to be here but also seems not to be here.

Maybe we’re worshipping. Maybe we’re singing praises to him. And we feel his hand along our spines or on the back of our heads or on our thighs, and it feels comforting and electric at once. And it feels like we’ve taken a step through the doorway, and he’s reached out his hand and is stroking us like a pet. An animal. A human animal he loves and he strokes when it gets up off its comfortable cushion on the floor and wanders over to its master for a little stroking by the fire. The fire of its master that seems to burn gently. That seems to burn brightly and warmly. And that seems like it may burn like this and he may pet us like this and we may sing like this. Well. Forever.