The Infinite in Motion: Discovering God Through Connection

While deep in meditation, something washed over me—an answer to a question I had never consciously asked: How do you describe God?

I’m not religious, and I don’t like labels. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt a deep connection to everything around me. A sense that existence is more than just "I." I’ve always seen, in varying degrees of transparency, reflections of myself in others, in places, and even in all the "things."

For much of my life, I saw myself as a separate drop of water in the vast ocean of existence—an individual, distinct and contained. But something never fully sat right with that. Because no matter how much I tried to define the edges of "me," I could never truly find them. Over time, I realized something simple yet profound: an ocean can never truly be separated into drops. The illusion of separation is just that—an illusion. The ocean is one, moving as one, flowing as one. And I am not a drop within it. I am it. We are ALL it.

And in that moment of stillness, it came to me—God (whatever that means to you) is not something separate from me. God is CONNECTION. And I am that connection. The energy, the life force, the unseen thread weaving through all things. The space in between. I am that. Because THAT is me.

We are here to experience. Yet, we love to categorize those experiences as good or bad—but is that really how it works? Those are just labels. Perspectives. Right now, I have no memory of living any other lives, of being anything other than this soul in this body at this time. But what I do know is that I am here to feel. To experience every emotion, every sensation that comes with being human. And while I still catch myself labeling these experiences, when I step back, I see something remarkable—some of what I once considered my worst experiences became the catalysts for my greatest growth.

It’s as if my deepest wounds are also the birthplace of my most profound gifts.

This connection, though, goes even deeper. It extends beyond people—to everything. I’ve yet to meet anyone who doesn’t feel some kind of connection to something in nature. The more time I spend among the plants, the rocks, the animals, the water, the wind, the moon, the sun—the stronger that connection becomes. And that connection is me. The same connection that exists in a fleeting moment of eye contact with a stranger when you exchange a knowing smile. Almost as if your souls recognize each other. That energy exists in everything—because I exist in everything.

Everything is connected because everything is me. And when I feel disconnected—how do I feel? Personally, I don’t feel well at all. Connection is the foundation of this experience. Could feelings even exist without it? Every emotion I’ve ever had was rooted in connection in some way.

I’ve been given senses to experience this connection, yet I often let my mind pull me away. The constant inner chatter drowns out the present moment. When that happens, I don’t fully see, hear, smell, taste, or feel. But when I quiet the mind—when I surrender to the now—something shifts. It’s as if I can taste the air, hear the ground beneath me, smell the sunlight.

I feel this connection calling me deeper. To let down my walls. To soften. To surrender to the idea that, given the chance, I can connect with anything and everything—because it is all me.

And the more I allow myself to be vulnerable, authentic, and present, the more I feel the truth of what I am. Even the most mundane tasks transform into opportunities to experience the intricate, beautiful web of existence. I shift from “I HAVE to do this” to “I GET to do this.” (Try applying that shift in perspective to everything in your life for a few weeks—you might be surprised by the change.)

These moments of connection, no matter how small, deepen my gratitude for the infinite, ever-present oneness—the knowing that I am not separate. That I have never been. That I am, and always have been, God.

And if I am God, and God is infinite, then I am the infinite navigating a finite existence. An eternal being experiencing the temporary. I am the ocean choosing, for a moment, to take the shape of a wave. Not separate from the whole—never separate—just flowing through a brief, unique form of experience before returning to the vastness of what I have always been.

This life, these emotions, these experiences—they are not all that I am. But they are here for me. To be felt. To be explored. To be embraced. Because that is what infinity does. It moves. It expands. It experiences itself through every possible expression.

And right now, in this moment, I am that expression.