Conduit

It was a very ordinary day. Almost flat. I was sat in my then partners very ordinary living room, alone, or so I thought, feeling as uninspired as the decor.

At the time I was going to a college training me to energy heal (faith college). Nothing was working. They said I needed faith to access the power. It was all there but I needed to reach for it. Doubt and do without was the motto. We all felt like the amount of faith needed was at the top of a very high mountain. There was a long way to go and a lot of work to be done. So, feeling utterly disconnected from my source and down about that fact, I lazily put on a video from the college training me how to get stronger, not expecting much. After all, it was me.

The words were the same old words urging me on, telling me to affirm, visualise, pray, be so strong that it cannot not happen. Be amazing. With every word I slipped a bit further away. It was never gonna happen. I was doomed to disconnection. All I’d ever wanted was to be close to God. Every word made me feel further away. I wasn’t amazing. I was me. I believed every word they said and thought I had to change.

Suddenly I heard a word that wasn’t spoken by the warrior on the video or by myself. It was clear, singular, and I had no idea what it meant. “Conduit”. I used to date a Richard Conduit. I wondered if I was meant to pray for him, or did the word conduit have a meaning? Before I could even think about looking it up, the man on the screen said loudly in his Texan accent “it’s like being a conduit Amen! That means a channel. You have to be careful not to put your faith in your own faith”. He then spent the rest of the video telling me about my faith and how to have faith in it, but I’d heard those words. That single sentence. My world shifted on it’s axis slightly but I had no idea what it meant. It was almost like the world that was dragging me along was put on pause and a shaft of light shone on me, alone in that flat arsed little room. In that moment I was known and I felt such a rightness about that truth I didn’t yet understand.

As I write these words I remember how I used to feel back then. Hopeless. Flat. Dull. Like something precious in me had died. If I could tell you now what those words mean, they mean connection. That I was always utterly connected to the source I was longing for. Faith is almost redundant when you know.