There are as many Gods in this universe as there are beings. And the game we play is called "Touch." It's a form of spiritual hugging. Easy to begin, pretty much impossible to bring to a close.How it came about: Before the beginning of the universe, before there even was a universe, we all held hands—well, figuratively speaking. We touched, I guess would describe it (hence the name of the game), and touching we synchronized, and synchronized we decided (on three, everyone: 1-2-3) t...

His grandfather was a cabinet maker. The rarely smiling old man who now had trouble walking and whose fingers struck the young boy as gnarled, helpless roots of some moving-about-the-house-with-difficulty tree.The grumpy old man who had trouble chewing most of his food for lack of teeth and who now and then drooled soup on his shirt at table and then pretended that he had not, even after mother would hand him a napkin, not even a thank you.This old man's name was Ljunge. It...

After much haggling and some give and take (the give mainly—actually, I'd go so far as to say exclusively—provided by God), He finally relented: "All right, all right," He said (twice—so four "all rights" in toto), all right (a fifth) we could leave if we wanted, if we really wanted. He sighed as he said this.This is how:Breathe out.For a full comfortable and thoughtless (as in no thoughts at all, not even a micro-one) sixty seconds do not breath in.Then do....

Spring was hard. The hardest. For this late in his life spring brought so many earlier springs to also touch him—a rush of them, each with a voice clearer than the next. Each singing faintly of promise, of rebirth, and not so faintly of fragrant and sunny mornings just above freezing but warming, warming, warming as the sun climbed well above the farmer's barn, huge and dark up there on the hill to the east.And in her tow, as she spread herself upon the northern earth: melting snow...

They say Jesus Kristus was untouched.You learn it in school, you hear it from parents, from grandparents—from them especially—from friends, and from preachers. You read it in the Bible: Jesus Kristus was the first to, and the only one ever to, escape, ascend, transcend, what have you, the Storm. He was the first ever to rise above it unscathed, as they like to put it on the late-night TV preacher-shows, especially now with a new Storm approaching, although unscathed means the same ...

"You are not really here, are you?""Well," he said, pulling at his long beard with a gnarled little hand, small booted feet barely reaching the edge of the seat and showing dark leather soles scratched and patterned by years and miles, "that depends on who's looking."He didn't exist, of course."That would be me," I told the little mirage."Then I'm here," he said.No, could not be. Still, as if to humor my hallucination, I said, "Do you mind if I touch...

I turn over for what must be the tenth time in as many minutes. The ground here is uneven and greets every attempt at comfort with a new root, or a small rock, or a pebble, or a hollow. I cannot fall asleep; I cannot find the position that might allow me to. Or perhaps I have slept, perhaps I have stretched my legs a little on sleep's surface, I don't know, but I do know that now I am very much awake.So, back to the drawing board. I ease my way around again, slowly, aware of Rick n...

I attempted suicide in 1965. I wasn't very good at it.For one, while I have since learned that the lethal dose of regular 75 mg aspirins lies on the far side of 500 tablets, I attempted my lethal feat with 121 of the little darlings (yes, I kept a tally).For two, I did lose my nerve late that fatal afternoon, and alerted my dad to my Bayeresque overindulgence.This is not to say that this was not an interesting exercise, it was. I was sincere in my banging on that da...

He knows that life is precious. He knows this like he knows that water is wet and that stars are distant—he's not sure how he knows, but he knows as he knows that life is not a given.But is also wonderful. Especially on nights like this. Is also hungry. Is also cold. Is also lonely. But magnificent. Is sometimes short, like his mother's. Is sometimes long, like his father's. Is sometimes always, like his own, tonight.Is sometimes vast and spectacular.Is sometimes wo...

Professor God stepped a little closer, then bent forward and gazed over his student's shoulder and down on the trial universe soon to form under the transparent reality dome in front of them. Then he frowned, straightened, and said "No. No. No. That's too many."Student God, a creative and eager-to-learn lad of about eight or so billion years turned away from the dome under which he was constructing the first molecule, and looked up at the professor, then turned back to the shiny, s...

"You don't really exist, do you?""Well," he said, pulling at his long beard with a gnarled little hand, his booted little feet barely reaching the edge of the seat and showing dark leather soles scratched and patterned by years and miles, "that depends on who's looking."He didn't exist, of course. Couldn't.Still, as if to humor the hallucination, I asked, "Can I touch you?"He hesitated, but after a heartbeat or two answered as if he had not, "Of course."...

He had a nose to scare children. It was half a large punctured pear, red and pockmarked. He was bald but for a grayish sprinkling along the sides and back of his head: almost, but not quite, monkish. He had the brow of a sperm whale. He could often be heard mumbling to himself. He was not underweight. He was considered strange.But he did have the kindest eyes—doglike, wet.He lived three flights up in the elevator-less building on the corner of Madison and Hoover. It was a f...