name of God

dear Name of God,

I know that language is a gesture.  That “the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.”  The moon is the moon. 

And I know the word “moon” is not the moon.  I know some stuff about that, probably.

God is Mystery, unspeakably, powerfully incomprehensible.  The name of God is ineffable.  God is undefinable. 

Mother God is one concept we can play with, but God is not really a Mother or a Father, or a cow, or a turtle, or a planet, or a satellite, or a star.  God is unspeakably God-ish, so all that’s true is the laugh.


Sexual energy fuels everything I do.  My writing, the way I dance, the way I sing.   The rituals I perform, how I connect with the earth. 

I’m not having sex with the earth, but it’s sense-based and animal.  It’s part of that whole package deal, where my sexuality and that other animal stuff is all mixed together.

It seems for you it’s more separated out.  If I cook a beautiful meal, my sexual energy is part of that.  My love of a vegetable has a tiny sexual component.

name of God

When I met you, it seemed magically beautiful, your name.  I learned you had other names, some more fanciful and perhaps silly–some more solid and legal.

It was significant to me.  Your name I call you is almost a disguise you wear, playful like a fake mustache and boxy glasses.  I almost call you by your legal name, sometimes, on accident.  We’re pretending this whole thing, and I’m going to slip up, one of these days.

But the bottom line is you’re kind of like God.  Your name could be a joke, or a costume you put on.  And you could change into another costume.

Who would you be?  You wouldn’t be the costume.  The name of God is a metaphor–Mother God.  Our ridiculous approximation, close to something with a miraculous womb.

that man

I felt like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to see.  That was a secret you had, and I was supposed to ignore the man named with your name.  I was supposed to pretend he wasn’t real, loyal to the You that I was initially introduced to.

I’m guessing ten ladies fall in love with you at once.   How inconvenient.  Or it’s standard fear of intimacy, if your sexuality is embarrassing to talk about. 

I’m assuming you were abused; your sexuality has an issue related to the trauma.  Your sexuality has an aspect that’s scary and difficult to engage.  Maybe your sexuality is something you find untrustworthy, not something you want to share a lot.

All the drugs you’ve done–maybe you did sexual stuff you’re ashamed of.  You don’t need to hide that from me.  I know addiction is about harm.  It’s a problem because it’s a problem.  People don’t usually use cocaine and then help the old lady across the street.  I assume you did bad to get the drugs, then did bad while on the drugs.  I’m not worried about that.

I would see no glimpse of a sexuality, no micro-drop of that energy edging toward engaging me.  You had totally hidden it, or chosen not to engage me sexually at all, when usually there’s a hint.  Maybe you’re trying to protect me.

friends stranger

Some people channel their sexuality toward strangers so they don’t have to incur emotional debt.  If someone wants assistance with their sexuality, but can’t give the amount emotionally that’s required to earn the assistance, it’s easier to pay money for it.

A man goes to a woman with sexual needs.  The woman helps him with his sexual needs. Then it’s like, “For that, you have to do this, this, and that, for me,” only it’s implied. 

So the two people are trying to figure out what needs to be exchanged for what.  It could be way simpler not to do that.


I don’t know if your sexuality is secret down inside you, you have some people you’re engaging I never heard of, you have sex workers you see, or lots of porn. 

I assume you endured sexual violation as a young person, which added sharpness.  That’s why I think I’m going to get cut.

If I could be your friend without activating the romantic dysfunction, maybe I could do more good than if I was another girlfriend you deceive, hurt, and get hurt by.

I love you,


By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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