When you hear the word, what do you feel?
And can you get past it?
And can you get past it?
The Text
v1.0
God is in you.
I’m not talking to the religious people.
I’m not talking to the non-religious people.
I’m talking to the older part of you that you view as young.
That part of you screams, “I’m here!”
God is in you.
Since it is in you, you get to define it.
It can be no other way.
And that doesn’t make your definition right.
It makes it inevitable.
Whatever you mean when you say “God” — love, absence, presence, nothing, everything, a story you were told, a story you rejected — that meaning didn’t arrive from the outside fully formed. It took shape inside you, shaped by experience, language, memory, and need.
Even refusing the word is a definition.
Even saying “I don’t know” still points to something.
This isn’t about belief.
It’s about where meaning lives.
Every definition of God that has ever existed has lived somewhere specific — in a nervous system, in a mind, in a moment of trying to make sense of being here at all.
That’s the source.
Not authority. Not scripture. Not rejection.
Cognition encountering existence.
Which means no two people have ever meant exactly the same thing by the word.
So maybe the interesting question isn’t who’s right —
maybe it’s what we’re each pointing at.
The Jiggle