God's Game

[poe]

Hi, Poe, I enjoyed the read, though I glazed over a bit during the creation story. I like the start of that section but it didn't hold me like the rest did. I'm no expert proofreader but I noted a few typos in bold below. Hither and most unbidden seemed off to me. Thanks for posting it

Preface:

Some time ago, on the day that my father died, I went for a walk in the woods to try and console myself.
I had to walk to the bottom of Christie Heights street, which was a dead end street, and climb through a hole in the chain link fence. The fence traversed a tiny brook stream which ran over some loosened cobble stones, rocks and pebbles, broken chunks of road way cement, moss, and grass. After I straightened myself up, I could see stretching out before me a great green lawn, with hills but no trees and just the occasional sand pit. This was the golf course of the small Jersey town in which me and my siblings had been raised, the last eight years of the 1970's. I used to go there as a child of ten or eleven, with my younger (by a year) sister. We would squirrel ourselves away into these narrow woodlands encircling the great lawns and hills of the golf course. This was my intention on that particular day as I didn't want to see or be seen by anyone.

I found my way to my favorite ring of small trees with there their fragrant and softly fleshed yellow leaves and there their long and low hanging branches. A particular tree was my destination, for it allowed me to sit on its branch and comfortably lean my back up against its trunk. But upon arriving at my special hiding place in the woods, I was surprised and dismayed to find my favorite spot occupied by a tiny little man. My face was damp and streaked with tears. I was in no mood to introduce myself or make conversation. He had a strangely elfin appearance, an appearance which was difficult to mistrust. He gestured with his curled index finger for me to come hither. I felt as if even before I could muster up the words to tell him why I was there, that he already knew. His voice was soothing as he introduced himself to me.

“My name is Tiplo.” He said. “What is yours?”

I told him my name. Then I asked him who he was and where it was he had come from.

“I live on Antebellum street not far from here. I come to this spot in order to think and get some solitude. It looks like you might do the same.”

I told him about my father and how he'd just died most unbidden and then I crumpled to the forrest floor and began to cry. Mr Tiplo jumped down off the branch upon which he was sitting and gently guided me up , helping me to take a seat upon my favorite natural bench in the woods.

“I know it is sad when someone special dies in this world.” Said Mr. Tiplo,”And it can be scary, as we don't know much if anything about what happens after we die. A long time ago I decided to stop speculating about what happens after we die. I decided that since we can't have any proof one way or the other that the best thing for my tortured mind to do was to simply live the best life possible while alive on this amazing planet upon which we live. Sit down and I'll tell you a story, a story that my mother told me and that her father had told to her. The story of how the world began. Then Mr. Tiplo plopped himself onto the forrest forest ground, crossed his legs and with closed eyes he began his story.









In the beginning there was emptiness and emptiness and emptiness became space and the miracle of all life was in that million year second when space had no other recourse then than to bear a point of matter, a cell. And what came to form that cell is what happens when a proton, neutron, and an electron strike the perfect balance. And the atom existed for a million, billion, trillion seconds until the atom had no recourse but to produce another atom. It was then that creation formed life, the first single celled organism, its creation gods first act of love. That love was bestowed unto the form so that it, itself could hold, cherish, or hurl that love by dimension or degree, the manifest intention of loving; creation,
would always remain its makers first one true love.
God is everything including the beginning, emptiness, space, and the miracle of form.

The first child was the atom. Atoms forming a nebula and every particular, individuated characteristic that could be dreamed up during the painful, primal, desperate struggle to give birth to the emptinesse's inverse. From the grand expansiveness of emptiness, space, the tiniest spectacle forms hydrogen, nitrogen, helium, oxygen, seeking out another with which to combine, coupling and creating carbon based molecules on planet earth, and what all that couples and is created throughout this galaxies planets and beyond. The forming of these things and all creatures therein. These things forming were god's first true love. God's first child was the atom in billions and trillion of seconds and moments of light years, there came the cosmic ooze. And so God was also in love with his other. Another that heretofore is yet to be named.


Creation is the result of a game that God and his mate have played from inception. The game is that each competes in creating the most, interesting, scary, beautiful, sluggish, or quickest, or whatever you want to create creature. The result is the universe, stars, planets, earth, trees, plants, rocks, sea and sky and every beings in all their uniqueness and diversity.




By now, the sun had come down pouring liquid gold over the horizon and filling in the cracks and crevices of the silhouetted trees and rocks of the shade giving woods. My eyes felt heavy , the lids leaden and it was impossible for me to keep them opened. In the darkness I heard Tiplo say, “May god be with you, and may you be with god. Then before I could blink, he was gone.

I woke up in pitch blackness. The woods were strangely warm. I could see nothing not even my hand before my face as the low branches and the rest of it blocked the view to the heavens. Normally, I would have been afraid, alone in the dark in a thatched field of any sort. But here I was, lifting my rested frame up off the fragrant leaf covered soil that I could see nothing of. I stood up feeling sprightly. I creeped and pulled my way out of the gentle woods embrace. Plucking leaves and bits of dried branches off of my shoulders, out of the creases of my shirt, and where they were moistly stuck to the back of my neck. The aroma of soil and rocks, fresh leaves and trees and pine and juniper mingled together and sweetly, secretly laying out my path before me. One that I could feel but I could not see.

I found my way to the open and hilly lawns of the golf course, illuminated in the silvery glow of a nearly full moon. My sadness and despair over my father's death was replaced by a soothing calm. I felt like I was being guided, and that no matter what I would always be safe.

Perhaps, my father's spirit was protecting and guiding me. Perhaps that strange little man had bestowed me with a blessing. Whatever it was I was certain that I was the blessed outcome of God's game. A creature created with intent. And a creature created in his own image. Not one that is seen but one that is felt and practiced; the ability to create. Recognizing the fact that this is how we are like our creator and celebrating the fact of it, the blessing of it. These are the things I contemplated on my little jaunt homeward.

Thank you Ellajam for taking the time to read and comment. For the typos certainly. I will look over how to edit that part which unfortunately left you glazed.
Cheers!
poe