So where does God fit into things?
“God”, as a signifier, employed within a sentence, carries cultural baggage. You cannot speak about “God” without interfacing, in some way, with a particular culture (or set of cultures), even if it is to deny their exclusive ownership of that signifier or to espouse a pure spirituality, separate and distinct from religious culture. The fact of the matter is that “God” has featured as a character (first person, second person, third person) in an extensive set of texts — and to invoke “God” is to interface with these texts. And not only with these texts — with the people and times that produced them — and with the people today who carry these texts.
“God”, as a thought, experienced within the mind, emerges as the result of psychology: “God” is thought and experienced as the side effect of any number of hidden, displaced desires, moving about unconsciously, like sharks in a pool. In my own case, some of these displaced desires obviously manifest themselves as individuated religious experience — but with the caveat that this individuation is the byproduct of displaced desire for the cultural/racial baggage of particular people (and, when I began to really focus on things, a fetishization of displacement itself, labelled prophecy).
Yet at the same time, we can’t deny it: God exists, certainly. Not as any kind of immanent, impersonal kind of nature-deity. But, rather, as a distinctly personal creature, someone who speaks directly to you, like one person speaks directly to another. Precisely because “God”-inscribed is cultural baggage and “God”-thought is displaced desire. It’s not an illusion — it’s reality, seeping through the cracks of culture and psychology. But it’s reality, peeping into, the unreality of being: a smiling, inscrutable, strange kind of care and love.
This is what gives God consciousness a slightly mad edge.