A Conversation with God

The Celestial Rose (Pic: from self-built telescope and camera by P. Lind)

The Celestial Rose (Pic: from self-built telescope and camera by P. Lind)

Did I tell you about my one (and only) conversation with God? No? I think you’ll enjoy it… so here goes.

On a fun exploration adventure with a good undergraduate college friend, AGS for short, we rode out on my motorcycle to a gorge cut into uninhabited land by a seasonal river. The side of the gorge was largely comprised of loose yellow-brown mud, and small rocks, with sparse clumps of vegetation. On impulse, we decided to climb a side of the gorge with nothing but our riding clothes and shoes, and a length of nylon rope about two meters long. We had nothing in our stomachs either, having started out early that morning with no breakfast. Suffice it to say that we soon found ourselves stuck about two-thirds of the way up, exhausted, facing a near vertical dry mud and gravel face, no vegetation to hang on to, and large rocks far down below to receive anyone slipping down. The fun had evaporated entirely in the hot noon-day sun.

I asked AGS to carry on climbing, if he could, and solicit help from anyone he may find for a rescue. He refused to leave me perched precariously on the side of the gorge. The two meter nylon rope we carried was simply too short to connect us together for safety and climbing assistance. The crumbling mud face was perilously slippery, and our motorcycle riding shoes were no help at all. Neither of us could climb any more: I, because of the gorge wall’s characteristics and exhaustion, and AGS, because he could not abandon me.

It is thus in my intemperate youth that I took a long moment to rest and contemplate on the presumed, assumed immortal. Not one to subscribe to “pbraying,” I bargained with the timeless creator, sustainer, and destroyer all rolled into one. Pointing to the rocks down below, I argued that it would be an inordinate waste of a useful life if I were to end up smashed on them. And that I had shown promise in life to that point, and could help the all-in-one make things better.

AGS, perched at a short distance from me, immersed in thoughts of his own, did not participate in my debate with the unknown unknowable. After a few minutes of my rigorous, vigorous, rather humorous presentation of my case, with no perceivable or conceivable counter arguments coming along, I relaxed into smiles and inner laughter. And thought pragmatically about my predicament, rather than negotiate with the vast emptiness of endless space and time.

It occurred to me that I might find a jagged rock, and cut holes into the side of the gorge face. Could that give my slippery-shoed feet better footholds? And could the holes made also be used as locations to grip with my hands on the surface? Converting this promising thought into action, I found myself a sharp implement and began this method of climbing the mud face. AGS climbed with me, and in just an hour or so, we found ourselves at the top, hugging for joy. Ancient tooling and tool-use skills came to my rescue that day…

And so concluded my one conversation with whatever is perceived in whichever, however manner…and it’ll exhaust me no end if anyone argues that my thoughts, imagination, knowledge, and action are all gifts from the omniscient omnipotent omnipresent. But feel free to carry this conversation further… 🙂

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About Rian Nejar

Rian Nejar is a mid-60's child from India. He trained and worked as an engineer in India, lived briefly in the Middle East, and arrived in America in the early 90's. After a Master’s degree in electrical engineering in America, he worked as an academic instructor, engineer, entrepreneur, and technical writer over the two decades since. Humbling and Humility is the first heartfelt written expression of his varied life experiences. He lives and writes in the Southwest United States.
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