![[Unlocking the Air]](/unlock/perm-images/1332banner700x103.jpg "gold creek, golden ears provincial park, bc")
When God slipped into Mary (between the breathe in and the breathe out, inhale, exhale, inh—whoops! hi, God!), was she then God? Did she think God thoughts, say God words? When she married Joseph, and they said the wedding words, and drank the wedding wine, did he marry God, too? Months later, in the night, with baby God snorfle sleeping two hours out of three, and Mary new mother comatose snoring on his shoulder, did he feel God still, stretched out all down his chest hip thigh, stealing the covers and tangling her fingers in his belly hair? When she kissed him, when they breathed together, did he feel God slip into him?
God flows, like water down a hillside, like wine into a cup, like blood from a wound. Streambeds curve around and around, making a cradle for the water. Wine pours from the cup into the drinker, and blood carries it to every cell and sweats it out in the early morning. God flows.
From baby God to toddler God, to young God, to grown God, with God in Mary and God in Joseph watching. This is how God walks. This is how God planes a table top. This is how God dresses a lamb. This is how God says good-bye to God, with a kiss and a smile, walking away down the hill.
Love ye one another.
Are you the Messiah?
If I were the Messiah, would you love one another?
If you are the Messiah, yes.
No ifs.
When God inhales, one two three four, clouds poufle and pile one on another, seedpods fillip and jig, smoke curls up and up and up. When God holds, two two three four, dry scrolled leaves float from twig to turf, one by one, alone. When God exhales, three two three four, sails bell fwoom! tumbling new sailors on deck, rain spatters dust into mud, cats slit their eyes and flatten their ears. When God rests, four two three four, nothing happens.
Love ye one another.
We do not know how.
Breathe.
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