relationshits & the quest for spinal discs

through a community that bethany once sent me the link to, i found a networking of cell groups in philadelphia called circle of hope. one meeting place is in my neighborhood. i am both excited & extremely hesitant. as always, being around parentals for extended periods of time (more than a day; in this case, until sunday) poses issues. i know they mean well when they gently drill me about my faith. spirituality. examination of jesus christ as a diety. quest for god. God? it's so intense in this home, these issues. anywhere else, on my own, it's okay. i really don't know. but i do. i don't want to cop out because it's easy, but i don't want to crack down because it's stupid. harsh. i don't want to give god a name, but i don't want to accept who god has always been to me. i have no clue what god has always been to me. subjective. but isn't everything? who am i fighting here? myself, parents, peers, or truth? i can say, without a doubt, that i want truth. furthermore, i will proactively seek truth. enlightenment. awareness. wholeness. reconciliation. love. reverence. thankfulness. also, i will continue to live life and experience humanity. i don't know how not to be subjective. do i even want to? i have a hard time with my reservations. the pokets of familiarity, design & routine that are part of my fibers. also known as: my roots. i don't believe in denying roots, rather using them & lessons learned from them to have a trunk and branches and leaves of your own. absorbtion. vulnerability. maybe this will always be sensitive. always. how do i be thankful for my roots & at the same time keep the necessary seperations and distances? how do i give jesus christ the same chance i give ganesh? how do i look lovingly upon his story? and what of the bible? i almost hate the cross because of what it means. what it means today should not be overlooked, forgiven. it's bullshit. absolute bullshit. but the same cross, the same name, drags these tiny threads, tiny cells behind it. flowing behind it is the birth of a new revolution, of mindful loving, of truthful living. i believe in that and might go as far as to say that this new face of christ is the only one. but i won't say that because, as much as i would like it to be true, i know it's not. my parents are a face of christ. in a way, everyone i know is a picture of love. what of the seperation? "heaven" & "hell"? mind body spirit? god & man? right & wrong? truth & "untruth"? where are lines drawn? my guess is they are not drawn. my guess is that i am translucent. liquid. a vapor. for the last year, i've been avoiding this steaming heap of confusion. i've known ease and comfort and sex and socialitis and gourmet and highs and distances and desparation and hurt and bliss and laughter and energy and femininity and body and everything, theory. i avoided it because it's hard. and it's bigger than i. and i am afraid of it. i avoided it for people & the fear of perception. so i dug and i dug underneath the things i admired, and i came back up with an arrow pointing straight back to where i started. i guess this melancholistic thought process is suffering from neglect, but still ugly as ever. no more avoiding, no more fear, no more stifling, no more pretending, no more theory for the sake of pleasing. everything goes deeper.