Ohh, *I* know this god! Yeah, this is the god I used to swing with back in my early 20's when I was eating exstacy and acid all the time.
It's one groovy god. It gets to just hang out behind the veil of reality all day, being energy/"source"/"the soul stream"/"the conduits"/whatever I need it to be to get profound and metaphysical and feel plugged in to the great Beyond... But it's nice and nebulous and fluffy like cotton so you can stuff it into any shaped container you want but never require it to hold a shape.
It let me go about my daily life being awed by this or that, and anything mind-blowing I could choose to chock up to "god" if I wanted in order to command a higher respect for that particular thing or idea, which came in very handy during philosophical conversations... Or I could flip the script and cut out the god part altogether and fall back on pure science or "fact" if I got cornered and/or was dangerously close to being called new-agey.
This particular god doesn't care what we do or don't do, but if we align our energies with it and walk a "true path" in life, it's energies will gently push us along like a zephyr, leading us to all kinds of good and true things we would never come across during our otherwise mundane journey through life.
Yep. Know that god well. We sure did have some times together. Especially on drugs, whoo boy. That time when I was candy flippin' and I watched the night sky's clouds coalesce into the screaming face from Floyd's The Wall, and the hum of the neighborhood's electricity got in sync with my pulse and my blood became a conductor for the manifested energies of the god being and the hum became the scream from the face in the cloud which created a resonant harmony in my bone marrow freaking WOWZERS and then I went inside and did a big ol' hit of Nitrous. And then I watched the ceiling fan spin some pixelated light around for awhile and I remember some chick who had a crush on me but was kind of gross kept wanting to rub my feet and I had to keep being like "No, really, I'm cool, but thanks." 'cos I mean I like a good foot massage and all but feet on drugs are freaky looking things and I didn't want or need this chick messing with them anyway plus taking off your socks and shoes is a major ordeal when you're that fashnootered and since I was continuously going outside and back inside anyway it would have been an actual inconvenience to take my shoes off I mean it was just like I honestly just didn't have any desire for a freaking foot massage and this chick couldn't get it through her head and kept giving me s**t about it like "What I just want to rub your feet what's your problem?" and I kept wanting to be like "I'VE GOT OTHER S**T ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW YOU FREAK THERE'S CRAZY GOOD MUSIC ON AND PEOPLE HAVING INTERESTING CONVERSATIONS AND I JUST SAW GOD OUT ON THE PATIO AND NOW HERE YOU KEEP TRYING TO GET ME TO SIT DOWN AND KEEP PAWING AT MY MOTHERFUCKING FEET LIKE SOME KIND OF RETARDED OCD PEDIATRIST OR SOMETHING JUST GO AWAY AND SHUT UP ABOUT FOOT MASSAGES LADY *PLEASE*" but everyone else was all fuckin' mellow yellow that night so I had to be polite and...
Oh wow, where was I? Oh yeah. Pantheist god. Good times. Still though, I shot pantheist god in the face (which is to say, I shot the multiverse in the face) years ago. In the end, I realized that trying to feel connected to everything all the time was just really exhausting.