I once had a teacher who was a wonderful medium. He demonstrated love and humility with every breath, and I remember how he would begin his sessions sitting barefoot, his feet planted firmly on the floor. With a quiet reverence, he would begin, “Father-Mother God…” asking for wisdom, clarity, and guidance.
As a recovering evangelical Christian at the time, his words always touched my heart. I loved the balance of his approach, the acknowledgment of both the masculine and feminine aspects of the Divine. It made all the sense in the world to me. I had grown so weary of the patriarchy of my upbringing that, for many years, I couldn’t even hear the word God without a visceral reaction in my body. Yet here was a man whose relationship with God seemed so tender, so humble, and so beautifully free of the authority and judgment I had come to associate with that word.
For a time, I embraced the goddess teachings. The Divine Feminine opened a whole new playground for my consciousness, and in her arms, I discovered the profound nurturing power of love. There was healing in that exploration, a reclaiming of something sacred that had been missing from my earlier understanding. And still, I remembered my teacher’s prayer. “Father-Mother God.” The beautiful simplicity of those words stayed with me, gently reminding me that perhaps the Divine was spacious enough to hold it all.
As I explored the poetry of Rumi, I encountered the term Beloved, and something in me softened even further. There was such intimacy in that word, a sense of relationship that reached beyond masculine and feminine, beyond doctrine and tradition. The Beloved was something I could feel in my heart, something I could approach with tenderness and wonder. I also came to appreciate the many cultures and spiritual traditions that recognize multiple aspects and expressions of the Divine. Each offered another window through which to glimpse the great mystery.
Over time, I began using words like Spirit or the Divine to give a name to the unknowable. Even now, my terminology changes depending upon the person I’m with, what the moment calls for, or what I’m seeking in my own communion with the sacred. I’ve come to appreciate that the words we choose are simply ways of reaching toward something that exists beyond our ability to define it.
And through all of this, I’ve discovered that there are countless ways to embrace truth, love, and wisdom. Each of us brings our own experiences, understanding, and longing to that sacred relationship. The names may differ, the rituals may vary, and the paths may wind through entirely different landscapes, yet love remains beautifully accessible to anyone willing to open their heart.
Perhaps that is what my teacher was showing me all those years ago. His bare feet resting on the earth, his heart open, his voice lifted in a simple prayer. He had found a language that allowed him to enter into communion with the sacred, and in doing so, he gave me permission to discover my own.
These days, I find great peace in allowing the mystery to remain a mystery. Whatever name we choose, we can reach out with a quiet mind, an open heart, and the willingness to receive.
And all is well.
✨Blessing✨
May your heart recognize the Beloved in every language.
May your spirit find freedom in the mystery of the Divine.
And may love be the prayer that guides you home.