Why “father”? Why not “MOTHER”? Seriously.
Speaking as a Goddess person. I really think mothers make far better Gods than fathers. I threw that “male God” idea in the trash along with the patriarchy. Vive la Déesse.
Viva Vin Diesel? I dunno, he doesn’t do it for me.
“He’s not a Messiah! He’s a very naughty boy!”
Oh, I definitely agree that mothers in general would make better deities, but that isn’t the way my culture taught me. I ditched the whole god/goddess idea long ago, but if I had to choose, I’d go with goddesses too.
Because that wasn’t the quote from the film! 
plus, I would hazzard to guess that our first conceptions of God are more culturally based and we only come to, hem…alternate versions after first rejecting the first concept.
Perhaps I have worded my qestion badly.
Let’s try again. Was your original conception of God filtered through you perception of your father?
Hmm, my earliest conception of God that I can think of: when I was three years old, I drew a figure with a purple crayon and said it was a picture of “God.” I’m pretty sure I chose the color purple deliberately because it carried the right spiritual vibration (this was at least 20 years before Alice Walker published her famous book The Color Purple. I’m not sure if I had already encountered the children’s classic Harold and the Purple Crayon.) The figure I drew was, well, scarcely recognizable as humanoid, let alone identifiably male or female. I seem to have conceived God as a being on some hazy, lofty, mystical plane.
GMRyujin, Vive la Déesse means ‘Long Live the Goddess’ in French. Sorry to have confused you, but I don’t know how to say it in Japanese. Onna Kami nagai seikatsu?
All I know in Japanese is “Domo Arrigato, Mr. Roboto.”
I dunno, I’m pretty sure Qadgop exists…
But that totally depends on your perception of God, doesn’t it? Or even if you believe in one. (Hmm, probably should’ve thrown that into the post.) My view of God (or, more appropriately, a higher power) is of a sort of misty and watery entity somewhere in the cosmos, who created earth and the galaxy and all existence and then left us to work it out on our own. So, in my mind, he’s not watching us at all. However, I’m not sure he exists, though I’m open to the possibility. And I don’t remember really thinking any other way, since my parents are both quite agnostic and have definitely shaped my perceptions of religion and the like. I like the thought of a pretty li’l God quite a lot, but I can’t quite turn that into a belief.
Meanwhile, I’m rather convinced that my father exists, because, y’know, he’s a rather solid 200 lb. lump of manflesh who collects model cars and hoards coaxial cable and has the quirky ability to bowl well when wearing shirts his daughters have given him. I love him very much and if I had to pick a model for God, then I hope (s)he’d be a lot like my dad and would love me as much as I know he does.
Let’s see, a great guy, kind, good at building and fixing things, a born tinkerer…jack of all trades, master of none, as he referrred to himself. Loving, funny, always studying and learning new things, loved the outdoors, gardening, wood, airplanes, curious about everything, rather shy, self-deprecating but confident in his abilities, gets mad rarely, liked to give people silly names, dependable, comfortable.
Yep, that was my dad, and that’s how I see my God.
As to the whole god/goddess thing, I watched Dogma last night, and finally clarified to myself why I prefer to think of God as a Father, not a Mother. For me, mothers are always trying to fix everything for you, jumping in to help or give advice, show you how things should be done. Fathers, on the other hand, pretty much set you on the path and let you make your own mistakes. Oh, they’re there to fix broken bones, but they aren’t kissing every boo-boo. “See how you do on your own - I’m over here if you need me”. Mothers insist on training wheels, fathers let go of the two-wheeler and watch while you wobble and weave and finally find your balance and zoom off down the sidewalk. Moms talk all the time and sometimes the wisdom gets lost in the clutter, but when dads talk, it’s usually something pretty important.
I wish all of you could have had the kind of dad I had. I miss him a lot.
I’m glad that you had that kind of father. He sounds wonderful. And some of us have mothers that were like that, too.
My original concept of God wasn’t filtered through my image of my father. But since my father’s death, they are virtually indistinguishable – very internalized and accessible.
Which one put the forget-me-not in my path on the day Dad died?