Magic is no illusion to this gal. It’s as real as the sun or the moon rises every one of our days. You might not see it. You might not care about it. You might even ignore it. But it’s there working, and available to any of us. And sometimes you must seek it out. Sometimes it isn’t presenting itself so readily and you must present yourself… ready… to be swept up in its grandeur.
I formulated this thing I call my ‘God Game’ ages ago. My recollection is that maybe I was age six or seven when I first began playing with it; when I first sensed enough to think about it and be able to notice its craft and how to use it in my favor. While it’s not entirely important the exact age, I emphasize the rough time frame in that it was a long time ago, noting I’m now much closer to age fifty than that was to my birth. To me, it’s magic, or magick in the more ancient sense of universal traditions and belief.
I share this mainly because my God Game has intrinsically influenced a vast heap my life choices. Without it, I’d have missed colorful relationships, decadent career moves, marvelous gifts, wild travels, and unbelievable access. Equally, without it, I think I’d have a much larger memory stash of wipeouts. With it, I believe I’ve glided past some insane destruction and met some head-on. I’ve gracefully surmounted a few near-fatal mishaps, and am still alive reporting about all. In a sweeping overhaul of my years to date, I’ve been bruised for (comparably) short periods by a lot else, at least in the large scheme of my life to this moment. Heck, with all that I’ve cultivated through sophistication and wreckage, I think this life thing is one giant masterpiece. It’s no wonder I wanted to cheerfully share my God Game with you.
On the other hand, there have been countless times I forgot about my God Game. I literally failed to use wisdom I conjured all of my own imagination’s making for my own benefit. It never left me. I ignored it. The why I’ll touch on later. And, occasionally, my God Game dealt me expressly what I wanted, only to have that bite me hard in the arse. I did want it, only I was toying with God. Anyone who’s ever provoked whatever notion they have of God knows how your bluff may be called. Nonetheless, I find my God Game is radiant, with a hint of addiction!
I didn’t quite have the name God Game until somewhere in my teens or twenties at best guess. It crept up on me, like any number of grand things in life will do. It was simple and stuck. Before I had a name, it was just this very rooted-in-the-bowels-of-my-body ‘knowing’. My gut; if my gut had a specific place and feeling, even a persona that ached to be heard. It would be damned, arrogant and stubborn if ignored. It would punish me in those times, tossing alternate options that could severely derail my earnest attempts at whatever I was focused upon. Yet, always to better me. Though, often it would take me many years to learn it was helping me.
Even the fact that I chose ‘God Game’ rests as an anomaly to me. I’ve rarely identified as super religious. I was christened, and I later confirmed myself, Episcopalian. I had a grandparent on both sides that didn’t regularly attend church, while the other spouse on either side did. Church on Sundays, or any day for that matter, was not my immediate family’s choice. My periphery was acutely more spiritual. I basked in anything involving nature. (Today, that’s still my favorite ‘church’.) I think I ‘knew’ God was in everything, before I intimately began a conversation with God, or taunted my existence with the idea of what God meant me. However, I was unquestionably devout when it came to my God Game. For this, I thank God for giving me the impulse to use the name.
When I slowed myself enough to be present to my God Game, there were never questions about it being right. It just was. I instinctively knew it was always the best thing to do. It was as if my gut had come to life each time and was talking to me. Sometimes I thought I was a little mad, as in crazy. For a child, this was off-putting, but somehow, I reasoned, ok. In later years it was often harder. I know now that this was society, image, or my insecurities about what others thought of me, getting in the way. But all could (and may) affect my God Game. For better or worse. I hope all you married folks get the reality of my meaning of that mention, if you try this all on. I’ve thought about it meticulously. We have the convenience to learn from our success and our defeat. I think all of that is roped into my God Game. As, at the heart of it, lies the self. What one wants. Free will is at stake. Wanting what’s going to allow you to soar will look like that. Wanting something not so healthy will likely concoct a big mess that protests you no longer luxuriate in poor patterns.
My God Game has been, and is, chiefly played whenever I want anything. Big or small. That Christmas present. The attention of a certain male. A particular job. To hear from someone specific. To travel to a place I’ve never been. An invitation to something I want to attend. And so on. Though rarely formulated so clearly in thought to me with my God Game, the opposing side of the coin may work too- playing my God Game when I don’t want something categorically. The same applies: Big or small. That Christmas present. The attention of a certain male. A particular job…. Ironically, this has sparked less formula in my psyche. I portend it’s similar enough. I’m naturally a ‘yes’ girl. Translation — I focus on the things I do wish and not so much on those I don’t. I reference the reverse because I fairly trust it will work with the ‘no’s’ of life. (Likely, I should test this aspect more often. That is definitively an entire story unto itself!)
So, what is my God Game? It’s truth and trust rolled together, like the sweetest and easiest sugar cookie recipe. It’s the definition and habit of the infamous phrase “Let go. Let God.”
How to play my God Game:
1) You know what you want (or do not want). You call out to God, stating your want. There’s usuall a command of attention and passion. It’s an immediate and important item, and you want God’s undivided attention. (Again with the trust, as I do trust God has room to give you undivided attention, whenever you’re serious.) Your thought is clear and concise. Precision and lack of greed are of utmost respect with God. (You don’t want to mix wanting, or not wanting, too many things in one. Ex — I want this man to talk to me, and I want him to be my boyfriend, and I want to marry him, and….) There may be a little dialogue with you and God, or there may just be the supple silence of knowing you were faithfully heard.
2) You deeply think about who/what this is for you. You envision it fully. You feel it fully. The full why. What it means to you. What your life looks like when you have connected with this. I always know I’m complete with this when at some point, usually fairly quickly, I close my eyes. I’m so ‘with it,’ and I could care less if I’m in my car parked having this moment, or if someone is staring at me. It’s my truth in a flash. (Though, also in fairness, I usually reserve these thought moments for when I’m in solitude, in nature, or some version of aloneness. Likely that aids my clarity, but being based in Los Angeles many years, that’s not necessarily easy to come by and my God Game has knocked on my door plenty in the throes of the chaotic outside-world peering or chiming in times too.
3) Then comes the hard part. I have to let go. I mean really LET GO — of the entire thing. COMPLETELY. The entire thought; the wishing; the wanting. The satiated communion, if any, with God. All of it. This is the ultimate crux and magick ‘trick’ of my God Game. This is what makes it possible. This is why I think I ever called it a “Game”. You see, the element of actuality is magically forged when we have freed ourselves from the need. Neediness is unpleasant. It’s uncomfortable. It’s even painful or unruly. Think about most times you’ve been around someone, or when something (a film project, a company) needs something, versus when they are freely open to continuing to simply be: be productive, be grateful and keep going. It’s all about the energy. There’s also the saying “If you love something, set it free.” It further suggests if it comes back, or comes to you in my instance of this Game, then it was meant to be. Now, that’s the kind of fate I’m playing with exactly. (Note, I’m not adding the more cynical humorous tidbit that adds the suggestion if it doesn’t come back, you may hunt it down, and even kill it for ignoring you. There’s no hunting in my God Game. That’s the polar opposite, or in other words what specifically will not work out. The same difference I think!)
The entire point of my God Game is suggesting that whatever you desire, crave, want, or think you need, may only truly be yours if you’re willing to unconditionally FORGET ABOUT IT. LET IT GO. Wholly. Fully. Utterly. Entirely. One must seek to live as if one had never lusted for the person or item in the first place. There is no other way. At least, that’s this ethereal agreement with God, as I stumbled across the ‘knowing’ at an innocent age. I don’t remember asking for it. I don’t remember having any huge existential God epiphany.
Not that a reserved temperament matters, but I was also very shy at the age my God Game launched. Contrary to the person my contemporary friends have known for a few decades, I was a serious introvert for a long time. I was buried in only a few friends, compared to the bulk of amazing humans I know worldwide nowadays. (I even tested INFJ with Meyers-Briggs through my teen years, though I was consciously working hard on a transition for many of those at the time, only to finally test ENFJ in my twenties and have stayed as such to present.)
Now, back to the ‘why’ would I ever forget to play with my God Game, notably in such pretty light of gratification. Here’s that rub in best explanation: I am human. I fail. I make mistakes. I drown in my sorrows at times. I’ve begged the world to see I’m a victim at times. I can be dramatic on par with the best actors, but I’ve never been paid for my roles. I suffer anxiety. I can be a perfectionist. All such things. The point being, I get caught up in me. I forget the God part of the game. So focused solely on the outcome of the game, I lose sight of the trust. I figuratively tap out, instead of tapping in. My shine fades to a dull, bleak grey. And in this discoloration, I 100% forget my God Game even exists.
It seems a cop out, even for Ms. Positive me. My family and friends have called me out at times when I tweak toward the negative. I think many of those moments they simply don’t know what to do with me. But, since I’ve rarely discussed my God Game, I’ve also failed to give them this ‘download’, this key-words phrase that can reset and offer me a quick bounce back. Until now. Today’s writing I hope may wiggle all that a bit more in my favor. Merely by me calling myself out to the public persona I’ve started here. It’s accountability at it’s finest. Throw yourself wide and truthfully, so you cannot hide behind bungles anymore. You must own your breakdowns when they come. You must choose the path of enlightenment when you live. I want no room for infidelity, especially with myself. But there is always room for my God Game.
Maybe you’re a player. Maybe you’re playful. Maybe you’ve got your own God Game that’s been whimsically supporting you too. Or, maybe, your rapture has just been ignited and you’ll join in playing my God Game… where everyone wins the life lottery.