The God in the Sea, the Trees, and in You and Me
Even if—especially if—you pray to God, you might still be doing something evil. I know that’s hard to hear. I know it’s sad. But it’s true.
Just because you have Jesus, Buddha, Allah, or whoever in your heart—just because they may or may not save you—doesn’t give you an excuse to do bad things. You still have to try. You need to reflect. You must do your best to be a truly good person. And being truly good isn’t easy.
Not murdering, not cheating, not stealing—those are the bare minimum. That doesn’t mean you’re good. Maybe better than some, but not necessarily the best you can be.
Being the best version of yourself takes something deeper. It means considering each action, each choice, in every moment. It takes thoughtfulness. Consciousness. It takes listening to the truest, deepest voice inside of you. It takes risk. It takes surrender. It takes cutting out intermediaries and listening—truly listening—to what He, She, or It actually wants you to do. And that might not be the easy path. It certainly is not often the one that satisfies your ego.
Some would call me sacrilegious because I believe in all the gods. I believe in the big one—God—as well as Aphrodite, the virgin goddesses, and Apollo. I believe in the god in the sea, the god in the trees, the god in you and me. That upsets a lot of people, especially my brother. I love him, even though he is disappointed that I won't accept Jesus as my one and only savior. I mean, I do accept Jesus—but he’s not the only one.
I don’t believe Jesus or God are punishing anyone for lacking faith in one single story. I feel energetically connected to these entities, and I don’t think God likes the way people use His story to hurt others, to judge them, to damn them. I know this in my bones. Because God speaks to me—here and now. And I do truly feel connected to Him and Her.
And anyway, these books—these sacred texts—these themes of resurrection, sacrifice, and renewal existed long before any one religion claimed them.
Did you know Jesus’ story echoes the story of Demeter?
In Greek mythology, Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, had a daughter, Persephone, who was taken to the underworld by Hades. In her grief, Demeter let the earth wither, refusing to let anything grow until her daughter was returned. Eventually, a compromise was struck—Persephone would spend part of the year in the underworld and part with her mother, explaining the changing seasons. This is one of the earliest recorded resurrection myths—a story of death, rebirth, and divine sacrifice.
Like Jesus, Persephone descends into darkness and returns. Like Mary, Demeter suffers the loss of a child and seeks her return. And just as Christianity speaks of salvation and the renewal of life, Demeter’s myth carries the same promise: after every descent, there is a return.
These stories existed long before the Bible, long before any one religion claimed to own the truth. Why do we ignore the deeper reality that these myths all echo one another?
The good news is we don’t even need to know these stories to tap into their power. We don’t even need to read a book written thousands of years ago to connect with divine energy.
Talk to your God, your Goddess, your Creator—whoever that may be. Just have a dialogue. Don’t be scared. They might tell you some really beautiful things. You can do this out loud, in a journal, during a dance, through a poem, while singing a song, or on a walk. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that you start softly checking in. Once you do, true communication will happen.
Your body will tell you.
Your body will help you feel if it’s really God speaking. You don’t want bad spirits running amok. You’ll know when it’s God because the feeling is peaceful. You’ll feel supported. It won’t always be what you want to hear, but it will be quiet, clear, and calming. Because the truth—especially when it’s not nice—is still kind. And real kindness feels like peace.
Divine messages don’t often come in thunderclaps or neon signs. They usually come as a soft, certain knowing deep in your gut. A whisper in your core. A flicker behind your eyes. A calmness in your heart. A synchronicity so perfect it makes you pause. The messages are subtle, like a feather landing in your palm. But when you receive them, you just know.
And that knowing feels like peace.
If we truly listen to God—if we fully inhabit all the creation myths—maybe we will find collective balance. Maybe we won’t care whether a person is a he, she, or they. Maybe we will finally understand that life is about transformation, and we will allow the transformation that respects and could heal the earth to happen.
When we reclaim sovereignty over ourselves—by taking back our right to divine communication—we reclaim it for the earth too. And this is so badly needed if our species is to continue on a healthy, happy path. Not one paved with asphalt and traffic lights, but one that is soft, flower-lined, and earthy. A path where we can feel the Great Mother beneath our feet.
