And I was there.

What if a belief in God is not a belief in someone? What if a belief in God is not attached to program or progress or preacher? What if a belief in God is visceral? What if it is a belief in the movement of things? The movement of moments, and clouds, and Earth, and eye contact, and hands and sound? All of these questions, I know, have been carefully segmented into little boxes of ideology.

But what if, for me, a belief in God are those? Could I then feel the love of God? Detached of dogma and doctrine? Detached of sacrament and ceremony? Could I feel God in the cold? In the passing of water? In complete quiet?

Is that not God? I think for me, it may just be. I knew God at one point in my life, but I only knew God the way others told me I could. Then I wanted to know nothing of God.

Then I saw a dark cloud move over a snow-capped mountain. I felt cold air brush across my face as I watched it pass.

And In that very short moment, I felt and saw God. God was the cloud. God was the mountain. God was the cold sting of air. God was the senses and the feeling. God was not a him or a son or a sacrifice.

God was, and I was there.