He looks like me, only thinner.
A lot like Gandolph the wizard.
The silent book narrator in my head when I read. A voiceless voice.
Or maybe a version of Jean Luc Picard and my dad, who look very much alike (cuz my dad’s Irish too! :p).
It’s cool to picure your dad being the captain of the Enterprise! 
Or God, too, I suppose…
God?
Aren’t those things that the ancients made statues of? Didn’t they have names like ‘Zeus’ and ‘Poseidon’ and ‘Persephone’ and ‘Morpheous’ ?? Wait, gods are ‘Matrix’ characters?
Call it the secular, godless, humanist engineer in me, but ‘god’ looks like nothing to me, honestly.
(All I can say is that if there is a god, it better NOT look like Jim Carey - I’ll be highly disappointed)
The paper cutout one from Monty Python & the Holy Grail.
[God mode]Arthur… King of the Britain…[/God mode]
Santa Claus…without the red suit and hat but in a white gown of somesort. Typical Zeus stuff. Oh yeah and sounds like james Earl Jones
I look around me and see God everywhere…try it.
I sit in the clearing of the forest, safe from all who would harm, in my circle. I wait before my altar made of stone, bearing gifts of love for my Goddess, asking Her to appear to me and grant me the guidance I so greatly need at this moment.
A feeling of electricity sweeps my body. I sense Her presence before I can see evidence of it. My heart overflows with joy and anticipation. I can feel my chakras, resonating with the energy that surrounds me.
She appears to me in this sacred place, backlit by the radiant moon, bearing the face of The Mother. The sight of Her imposing figure inspires no fear within me, for all that She is the Mother Of All, but instead a profound love that inspires my heart to sing, and not a little awe.
Her long, smooth curls reach just past Her waist, twined with the flora of the surrounding forest. The warm chestnut locks flow around Her, seemingly with a life-force all their own, the golden-red highlights appearing to form an aura of flames around her.
Her heart-shaped face was like to have been formed from the most perfect alabaster, with a gentle flush of rose, over graceful cheekbones.
Her eyes, as they fall upon me, hold me mesmerized where I stand, so full are they of life, and laughter, and love. Twinkling points of light scattered across a brilliant expanse of green, they bring foremost to my mind images of a lush, emerald Irish countryside. Her gaze is warm and inviting, communicating to me with a language that has no words, only emotion. Her full, deep burgundy lips turn Her face into a smile that lights her whole being, and mine.
My eyes are drawn to Her long, elegant throat, the smooth hollow beating with the pulse of all Creation. She is draped in a long, flowing gown, cut from a single piece of samite, gathered just beneath Her soft, full breasts with a trailing ribbon of the softest spun gold. The soft breath of a midsummer breeze gently molds the gown against Her body, revealing the slight pouch of Her belly, strong, curved hips, and slim, long legs of perfect grace.
My eyes are drawn to her lovely face. I only now notice the gentle lines that creep from the corners of her eyes and mouth, carved from the most exquisite joy, and the most despairing pain. For the merest second, a tired shadow flits across Her eyes, expressing the mortal weariness only a woman could know.
My daughter. She holds her hands out to me, and as I rise to take them, she folds me into her loving arms, welcoming me. Come sit, and we will talk awhile. She takes my hand and leads me to an outcropping of rocks that melds into a elegant stone bench as we approach. As she sits, she draws me down with her. I sit at her feet, and she eases my head into her lap, smoothing my hair with soft, soothing strokes.
What do you ask of me, my child? Sweeping my hair from my face, her hands urge me to let go of the pain, anger, and frustration I have tried so hard to contain within myself. The warmth of her love encourages me to cry myself out; I cannot do else. A single tear, pregnant with my despair, trails down my face, to be joined by so many more as I begin to weep. The sounds of my anguish are torn from my throat, as my entire body shudders with my pain. I clutch frantically at Her skirt, and I crush my face into Her thigh it rests upon.
As the hopelessness pours from my body, I make my way back from my private hell, back to where we sit in the here and now. I begin to feel my body again, and as she continues to brush my hair with Her slender hands. She begins to hum softly. The tune itself a tangible presence, pours into me, filling me with a joy I had forgotten.
I can sense the deep, tearing wounds in my soul healing, melded closed with the searing light of Her love; all the empty, barren places within me replenished with Her gifts of strength and courage.
She pulls my face up to meet Hers. She lifts a corner of Her gown to wipe the last tears from my face, her soft touch the most comforting thing I have ever known. I fall into bottomless eyes as they dance with Her radiant smile. And one last gift, dear.
I hear the beginning strains of a melody I barely remember as the sound of my own laughter. She joins in with me, our voices raising and intertwining, filling the entire forest with the sound of our mirth.
As our song winds to a close, I feel more alive than I can ever recall; a peace and happiness born of Her perfect love pulsing through my ancient soul.
She stands, and pulls me to my feet. Again she pulls me into Her arms, holding me for a moment. She releases me, and I feel the feather-touch of Her lips on my forehead
Giving my hand one last reassuring squeeze, she turns and walks back to the center of the clearing. She stops. As she turns back to face me, the golden ray of moonlight shining through the break in the forest canopy grows brighter, till I must shade my eyes to keep from being blinded.
As my eyes clear, I see motes of dust dancing in the last of the moonlight. She is gone.
I return to my altar, to thank Her for the gifts She has given me. I cut the circle, leaving my offerings for the Folk of the Forest. As I leave the clearing, amidst the sounds of the waking forest, I hear Her voice once more.
The gifts I have given you, daughter, are always within your reach. All you need ever do is ask.
Renewed in body, mind, and spirit, I leave the forest to begin a new day.
Call me crazy, but this is what I used to think God looked like:
He had two torsos, that connected at the ends, so His body looked like a ring. He had two long, flappy feet and long, skinny arms that dragged to the ground. He had a long, very stretchy neck and a big smile on his face. He was a rather snappy shade of blue-purple.
My God was ET on LSD.
I had a dream when I was small, and God was kind enough to appear in it. He was a four-inch tall claymation figure, with white hair and a white beard, and big bushy white eyebrows, so basically all you could see of His face was His big round nose sticking out. He wore a bright green robe tied with a white belt. Oh, and He could float, naturally. Because He’s God. Duh.
Engywook, that is so totally cool.