We moved in procession, first down the stairs, then up a ramp and forward on the boardwalk-style walkway. A procession of runners walking toward the park.
I was moving to music, feeling my uneven footsteps touch each board. I had just gotten off the train in Queens, and “In the Heat of the Moment” by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds came on.
The song begins with the lyric, “They tell me you’ve touched the face of God…”
I thought of one of my loves as the music played and saw his face in my mind.
“God,” I thought.
I remembered a dream I had a long time ago about him, him taking on the appearance of a young man with long dark hair. I remembered how that dream came to me just a few days before I ran the Chicago Marathon, and we saw one another inside of it, close but never touching. Why not touching, I don’t know. I can’t often touch anyone in my dreams.
The man told me we had met in 2007, and he bore the name of a spiritual teacher at an enlightenment studio in my neighborhood.
When I saw him, I knew that he was my love of the present in the manifestation and that he and we all are God.
I made a note
10/5/2023
“Realized he is God
God is me
We are all him
We are all God”
As these moments go, I forgot about it until I heard Noel Gallagher.
“2007." What was the significance?
Noel Gallagher was in my ears a lot in 2007, too. I remember walking the streets of London as I studied there for a brief time that year, I remember thinking and feeling that “meaning” existed there.
I had come from “a nowhere place” in a survival state, and it was with the morning’s quiet, the morning beauty upon the Thames and bustle in the streets, that I found for the first time the plausible brief notion that there may be something else bigger than me in all of the world.
My whole life has been about uncovering it. My whole loving experience is about this very thing. All of my writing, running, the deep desire to look into people’s eyes… and the intense love of them… it’s all about seeing … and finding… God.
I can remember looking for God right from my youngest days.
I had Atheist parents and a highly religious babysitter. Atheist parents don’t guarantee a spiritual quest, so as a soul, I created for myself “contrast.”
“Maggie” would bring religious jewelry pieces into the house for me, such as a necklace here and there. I would become fond of whatever she brought, but my mother would come home and throw it away, saying we do not allow religious jewelry in the house.
Had that contrast not been there at four or five, I wouldn’t know anything different about not having religion or going to church. But I did know… There had to be “pain” about it, even then, so I could seek an answer.
As we walked I jotted down this note in my phone:
6:47 am: I think I have found the undeniable meaning and spiritual curriculum that drives my life.
As the morning sun kissed my face above the railyard, everything for a beautiful instant … was clear.
Then, it was off to my “race ritual.”
“Where are the port-o-potties?”
I knew there would be a large string of them, as there always was.
As I sat there, praying for “one last poop,” I saw this substance in the urinal.
I jotted down another note:
6:54 am: Did someone cum in the urinal of this Port o Potty!? Oh wait. It’s hand sanitizer. Wait did I just mistake those two things?! 😳
(It has been a while, and in NYC, audacity is common.)
I laughed at my frivolity and the juxtaposition of the spiritual and human experience. I laughed because of my desire to transcend meshing with the gravity of living in body, in a society, in a city, at a race sponsored by Citizen’s Bank. I laughed at the ridiculousness of the manifestation and my two notes, sitting stacked on top of one another among thousands of others … the material of which I write.
My human, my soul, the two together, here and now.
I laughed. I did not poop. That was disappointing.
Your sharing of pre-race rituals brought a smile to my face. They are important. LOL. Especially for my longer runs (half marathons and full marathons) when there are no trees to duck behind or other places to go. 5k's and 10k's not so much. Keep running!
Your reflections on spirituality, love, and the human experience were beautifully written here. The vivid imagery and personal anecdotes create a relatable narrative. Thank you for sharing such an introspective and captivating story.