On the Holy Spirit

 I've never liked the term "Holy Ghost" since I was a child. Ghost implies a person. Even if we are made in Gods image, after a thorough look at Eden this morning, calling myself "the garden", I can appreciate what metaphor is.

I am the garden, er, I am built with knowledge of all things, enjoying them freely but exposed nevertheless to what is bad.

The church has us pray a few prayers every Sunday. One of which I am always embarrassed about,  and generally cannot make it through so I don't recite it fully, each and every time I recite the version from my youth and CANNOY LEARN the new version! 

And at one point we bow. I always thought we bowed to Mary and perhaps it is true, but this time I realized we bowed at the same time to God's holy spirit, his only representative on earth. It was a huge deal for a minute. Then I went home and sang songs a while. 

But by nights end, I felt sadly drifted from this strange beautiful thing which lives within me, and I wanted to pray and did so for a long time.

God is there,  at the altar and in the tabernacle where his spirit lives in the host. We can deny it, but it is there. We cannot see it. It is there.