[blockquote source=”Terry Tempest”]This is my living faith, an active faith, a faith of verbs: to question, explore, experiment, experience, walk, run, dance, play, eat, love, learn, dare, taste, touch, smell, listen, speak, write, read, draw, provoke, emote, scream, sin, repent, cry, kneel, pray, bow, rise, stand, look, laugh, cajole, create, confront, confound, walk back, walk forward, circle, hide, and seek.[/blockquote]

When I was a little girl, no more than 3 years old, I remember formulating my very first view of God. Mind you, I don’t remember having any particular ‘image’, per se – rather, an overwhelming sense of His unconditional love.

The world is much easier when we are not so very tall. For, there are not yet wars…or famine…or the complexities of spirit, that often make life a little more complicated.

I do remember that is was this very thought that always brought me such comfort, and even on those days when I wasn’t such a very good girl.

No matter how badly I had behaved on that day – God always forgave. And in that forgiveness I found the most beautiful manifestation of unconditional love.

Why, a love so great – to forgive without cause? It allowed me the space to be a perfectly imperfect me. To love…to dance…to dip my toes into life’s icy brook…even the occasional tantrum was ok. Because, in my heart I believed God loved me anyway.

I even remember once thinking that God and Santa Clause must be one in the same….I was such an awfully, very much mixed up little girl.

But, I had my faith.

My Father, born of a strict Italian immigrant family, was raised under the auspices of the Roman Catholic church. However, oddly enough, though our belief was unwavering – we never once ever attended church service.

I never thought much of the matter, until one day when a little girl moved in next door. Her family, you see, was a devout Christian family – and, she told me one day, “if you don’t go to Church, you’ll go to hell.”

At that young age, I had no concept of eternal damnation – but, rest assured, this little girl helped me to quickly ‘understand.’ And didn’t she just paint the scariest image of a demon amongst the flames, waiting to ravage my little girl soul at even just the slightest of transgressions.

I raced home to my Mother, my eyes bursting with tears…”Mommy, she said God doesn’t really love me that way.” I was terrified that my images of unconditional love had been replaced by that of a horribly vengeful God.

My Mother, always the center and source of calming energy in my world, smiled softly to assure me that God was, in fact, everywhere.

You know, as a Buddhist I’m often asked if I believe in God – and the answer is “yes”, just rather in my very own way.

My dears, whatever our beliefs surrounding the creation of spirit – whether Muslim or Hindu or Catholic or Christian….our faith is still very much the same.

It holds us close in the darkest moments of our fears, and assures us continuously of the existence of morning.

The Buddha challenged that we must all find our own light – and how we get there is a path unique unto each and every human.

But, it’s the path that helps us find our faith…even when we believe it’s not to be found ever again.

You know, I had always assumed that my Father lost his faith in God on that battlefield in Europe, but it wasn’t until I was much older…that I realized he had lost faith in himself.

Faith that he might find his way forward, when the horrors of War try to snuff out our light. Trying to fit someone elses’ mold can oftentimes leave us feeling this way…that we have lost our way.

And, so I say to that little girl who tried to question my beliefs…my dear, faith can’t be learned, it is born.

It is born from our hearts, and forged through our actions – and it is the single thread that connects us all.

My faith is what causes me to believe in the impossible…

That one day, with just these two hands, I shall build a house where only love presides….

That, with just this simple Buddhist heart – I shall strive to ensure that not one heart ever goes unloved in this world.

And I don’t care how many little voices try to prove that otherwise.