I went looking for the Buddha—
the enlightened sage everyone keeps putting on a pedestal,
the one supposedly floating above the mess of being human.
I searched temples, scriptures, and the usual spiritual hiding places,
but the Buddha never showed up.
What I found instead was something far more unsettling:
a quiet, stubborn clarity in myself
that didn’t need a robe, a title, or a legend to exist.
I went looking for Guanyin—
the cosmic mother of compassion,
the saintly figure dripping with mercy that never runs out.
I tried to find her in statues, stories, and prayers
but the universe stayed silent.
What I uncovered instead was a wild, unfiltered compassion
rising up from inside me—
not holy, not polished, but real.
I went looking for Jesus—
the divine-human hybrid,
the miracle-worker who makes everything neat and sacred.
I combed through theology, doctrine, and religion’s greatest hits,
and guess what?
Not a trace.
What I found instead was the uncomfortable truth
that the whole “separation between God and me” thing
was a story someone else wrote—
and I didn’t have to keep reading it.
I went looking for Socrates—
the philosopher-hero,
the great questioner who held wisdom like a torch in the dark.
I searched through dialogues and dusty ideas
hoping he’d tell me something profound.
He never did.
Instead I stumbled into my own relentless questions—
dangerous ones,
the kind that burn down the comfortable parts of your life.
I went looking for Mary—
the icon of gentle holiness people decorate with halos and hymns,
the one who supposedly carried impossible weight
without ever cracking.
I searched the stories and the sanctuaries,
but Mary never appeared.
I didn’t find the woman who birthed sacred things.
I found the force inside me
that keeps bringing new life into being
right in the middle of the mess.
I went looking for Dr. King—
the moral giant, the fearless voice, the dreamer who shook empires.
I looked for him in speeches, biographies, and memorials,
but I couldn’t find that man.
What I found was a raw ache inside myself—
a refusal to stay quiet
while anyone is crushed by systems built for someone else’s comfort.
Turns out that was the only King I needed to meet.
And then,
I went hunting for God—
the cosmic CEO, the ultimate authority figure,
the bearded sky-king running the universe from a distance.
I searched upward, outward, far beyond this world,
and I came up with nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
What I discovered instead was the thing no one tells you:
the presence I was searching for
was woven into reality itself—
woven into me,
into this breath,
into the ground of existence that doesn’t ask for permission
to be what it already is.
Jim Palmer
https://www.facebook.com/Nobody.JimPalmer
