"Have you ever seen God on the bottom of your foot?"

I was seated in the back row of the anonymous place, slouched over, head in my hands, hiding tears, hating life, hating everyone and everything on the planet, hating everyone and everything in that room.

Thirty-four years of living life on my terms, had brought me to this lonely, angry moment, to this lonely, scary place. And then, this twisted mother-fucker, with hair to his ass, who was wearing a biker style leather jacket, started to talk.

"I think that God is everywhere and in all of us. I don't think that one God takes precedence over another God. If there is a God, it is a kind, caring, loving God. I can't buy Christ over Krishna. I can't buy Krishna over Allah. Allah and Buddha are one and the same. There is one God and she loves me. He loves you, too."

This guy wore John Lennon specs. He had musician written all over him and what he had just said was exactly what I had needed to hear right at that moment. No one there could see it in my eyes, but I was sitting in that small room, everyday at 5:45 p.m., for an hour, listening to the experience, strength and hope of complete strangers, because I was trying to find the reason why I should not put a gun to my head and pull the trigger.

And, finally, after many, many meetings over many, many months, someone had, finally, raised their hand and had said something that made sense to me. Suddenly, I wasn't alone in my thoughts. Suddenly, I was not alone in what I had come to perceive as a very sick and twisted world that I did not have much of a part being in.

This guy called himself No George.

No George was his punk rock name. You usually think of punk rockers as having colored hair, no hair or a mohawk, but No George was a punk with long hair. No George was a walking oxymoron, but he made sense to me.
"God is on the bottom of your foot. God is in your nostrils. God is up your butt, for God's sake," he said and I breathed a further sigh of relief.

No George had the whole room in a tizzy. I could see that he was pissing some people off, but, he was making sense to more people. I believe that many of us were sick and tired of having God shoved up our ass. We were tired of being told that God was going to send us to hell for not following the rules and regulations of other men. We were tired of feeling guilty for everything that we did with the alleged eyes of the Lord upon us.

In our hearts and minds, we felt that God probably wasn't an asshole, but that wasn't the message that we were getting from the priests and preachers.
According to them, God was out to get us.

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