"The Young and the Jobless" — Afterward

Bloggy, I feel really tired tonight, and so I think I’ll bow quickly here and take your leave. What can I quickly tell you that will differentiate this day, give No. 25 some character and separate it from the pack?

Ah, this idea that I just had as I said that. You know, I’ve always noticed that the universe is very repetitive, and everything mirrors everything. (Sometimes, I’ve wondered if you can predict the future that way … by watching something else take place and see how it’s similar to our own reality.)

Anyway, I can’t give you any specific examples right now because I can’t think of any. But, I just thought of this again: What if, the way I make each one of my consecutive 69 entries each day is how God makes his children?

Every day, I pour whatever I’m feeling into the same white box, engendering an entry with a separate identity at the push of the Publish button. Some entries end up flowing better, some are more brilliant, others more logical or insightful. Some are nostalgic, and some contain humor that others can’t match. Others are pretty boring, lagging behind lethargically, seeming without a point. And a few are made of just a handful of words, barely an acknowledgment of presence.

They’re all real, like separate little people. And maybe that’s the process God uses for us too, and that’s why we’re all different — not because some were chosen to be smarter, more gifted, etc. But rather, we differ by chance — because on that specific day when God decided to create you, he happened to feel the way you are.

In that case, our lifetime is simply a reflection of one day in the life of God. And if each one of us represents one day, then with almost seven billion people in the world, we’ve captured eternity. Then as we multiply, have kids, and our kids have kids, and so on, we’re not capturing more, but rather narrowing into our Self. Because if we are a day in the life of God, then our children are hours in the life of God, their children being minutes, seconds, and so on. The more we multiply, the tinier morsels of God time our offspring represent. But it doesn’t make them any less important, because put them and us and all the people of the world together, and what do we have?

God.

That’s why I’ve often thought we’re all divine. And I’m not even religious.