During this time of year, I often think about the overwhelming presence of hope and faith and belief that seems to float heavily in the air.  Though sometimes I find myself a little intimidated by the thought of believing in something bigger than me, I have to remind myself that a belief is actually the most liberating experience one can have because in fact it is so personal, so unique. I have to admit I've never been much of a religious person, but during my brief stint with yoga practice, I found the closest thing to a spiritual awakening I've ever experienced.  Somewhere between downward dog and pretzel pose I had a vision.

A woman with long brown wavy hair floated naked down a river, propelled by the soft current of a waterfall.  Her hair radiated around her face in a mane of soft waves and her naked breasts soaked up the brilliant sun beaming down from the heavens.  The coolness of the water and the warmth of the sunlight created the perfect temperature, the perfect balance.  Comfort.  She lay, floating, the universe holding her up and beaming down upon her all at once.  Never before had she known such peace.  So exposed, so bare, so human.  There she laid waiting.

This vision drifted through my open mind during one of these yoga sessions.  I remember interrupting my dream to switch into a new position, but as soon as I settled in, the vision came rushing back.

What was she waiting for?  It was like a cliffhanger that played on loop.  The harder I searched for an explanation, the further away it felt.  Then, as I sunk deeper into lotus pose, I found my answer.

She was waiting for God.

I’m not sure what this vision was supposed to mean: if it was a reflection of myself and my pursuit for spiritual guidance, or if it was a sweat-induced daydream of a woman at peace, constructed to ease my weary mind and muscles.  Whatever the purpose of the vision, it remains ingrained in my soul.  Every so often something in my life will bring this vision to the forefront of my mind; flipping through the latest Oprah magazine in the doctor’s office, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green.  Sometimes I feel like I’m the woman, floating in a world of chaos, waiting on Him to show up--as if I’m the hostess of a dinner party and He is my last guest to arrive.  I can’t seem to remember if He’s RSVPed, but I’ve set a place setting for Him anyway.  This is how I think of my God.  I’m not quite sure if He’s coming, or if He’s already arrived, but I’ll wait for Him anyway.  Because that’s what good hostesses do.

pic: weheartit

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