God is Practical: On Spirituality, Survival, and Forgiveness

The Myth of the “Unspiritual” Doer

Songs to listen to:

• Jazz (We've Got) — A Tribe Called Quest

• Ça Plane Pour Moi — Plastic Bertrand

• Solid Wall of Sound — A Tribe Called Quest

• In Too Deep — Sum 41

• One Million Year Trip — Laetitia Sadier

• Take Me Away — Lash

• Cannonball — The Breeders

• Nookie — Limp Bizkit

In our modern world, people often attempt to separate spirituality from practicality.

Spiritual people are often perceived as naïve, ungrounded, and privileged to have the ability to hold an open mindset through their challenges — to trust in something external or 'bigger' than them. Perhaps that’s because those of us in survival mode often don’t feel we have the safety or energy required for that kind of trust.

A practical person might be seen as someone with their feet on the ground; someone who doesn't rely on anything external or 'spiritual' to build their reality other than what's physically in front of them.

My thought process is — rather than pointing the finger and saying someone's mindset is privileged, why not soak up the information that resonates with you, and practice it to harness a better life for yourself?

What happens when there's an individual who grounds spiritual teachings into their day-to-day life? And what if being practical is an inherently spiritual practice? When did we decide it couldn't be, and what if it's one of the most sacred things we can do?

I believe that practical people are often deeply attuned to 'God' — not necessarily through mysticism or external validation, but through quiet self-trust. They don’t need an audience to act on divine instruction. They move because they know they must. When we include a spiritual perspective here, we can do all of this — but also trust that something greater than ourselves will catch us when we take a leap. That’s faith in motion.

Practicality isn’t anti-spiritual. It’s what happens when the Divine is embodied — when we stop waiting for a sign and realise the sign is us.

You and God, You and Yourself

When you stop looking outside for approval or cheerleaders, you start hearing your own internal applause. That’s where God lives — its in the echo chamber of your own bravery.

Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is make a to-do list, clean your house, call your doctor, or take that first step towards a dream you’ve been postponing.

It’s you saying, I trust that I’ve been given this body, this mind, and this moment for a reason. You can parent your inner child and still be divine in that moment. You can be both the nurturer and the creation — both the prayer and the answer.

You and God are already a team.

And yet, even with all that self-trust and divine partnership, life will continue to test us. Every act of grounded faith — every list, every leap, every quiet step forward — eventually brings us face-to-face with something heavier: the stories, wounds, or people we haven’t yet released.

That’s where forgiveness enters. Not as a lofty concept, but as the next practical expression of faith — the act of clearing space for what’s new.

Forgiveness as Selfish Grace

Forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means refusing to drag the past through your present like a dead weight.

Sometimes forgiveness is selfish — and that’s holy.

Like the Ten of Wands in the Tarot, we carry burdens that aren’t meant to be permanent. We think we’re being strong by holding on, but strength is also knowing when to set the weight down. Forgiveness isn’t for the other person; it’s a spiritual decluttering. It’s saying: I choose lightness over righteousness.

Spiritual embodiment is remembering that the past is not our present. Each time we remind ourselves of that truth, we let the cells of the moment renew themselves.

It’s how we step out of repetition and into rebirth — how we allow ourselves to feel new again, again, and again.

And part of that lightness comes from how we see the people who’ve hurt us. It's not helpful for our inner child to believe that the people from our past are incapable of change, or that they were ever purely “evil.” It’s so much softer — and lighter — to trust that everyone is doing the best they can with what they know, that people are constantly learning, trying, failing, and trying again.

You don’t have to welcome them back. You don’t even have to forgive them in the conventional sense. But you can still say: I see your humanity, and I release the hold you have on mine.

When you can look at someone and think, I hope you do better, I wish you peace, you’re not excusing their actions — you’re excusing yourself from the endless loop of pain. You are trusting that the Divine brought those people to you for a reason, for your growth and personal development. That is you taking accountability for your actions, and surrendering to the part they played.

That’s Temperance — divine balance in motion. It’s knowing when to mix the waters of compassion with the fire of boundaries.

The Sacred Reasoning Behind It All

There’s a deeper layer to forgiveness — one that moves beyond morality and into cosmic understanding.

It’s the awareness that there’s a Source, an intelligence, a rhythm greater than you that keeps arranging your lessons with perfect precision.

When you believe that life is happening for you, not to you, everything begins to soften. Even the hardest experiences start to reveal their hidden logic — the divine curriculum written in invisible ink.

Maybe that heartbreak was a teacher in disguise. Maybe that betrayal pushed you toward self-trust. Maybe that silence was the space you needed to hear your own voice again.

When you start to see that God, the Universe, Spirit, your Highest Self — whatever you want to call it — is conspiring to help you grow, you stop resisting the very experiences designed to awaken you.

You start to ask, Where is this leading me? What is this teaching me? How is this helping me love better, forgive faster, and rise wiser?

When you trust that Source authored your pain, forgiveness stops feeling like work and starts feeling like peace.

And when you can look back and see that every loss, every ending, every detour had a reason, the pain dissolves. Not because it never existed — but because it fulfilled its purpose. Picking up the pieces and moving forward gives you undeniable personal power and a lighter heart.

That’s the highest form of forgiveness: trusting that you and something greater than you (a co-author) wrote your story.

This is understanding that everything — even the ache and the detours — is an essential tool in your becoming. It builds resistance, grit, strength. And when you can walk forward with a light heart on top of it, you become an unstoppable force.

Rewriting the Narrative

Holding resentment is like keeping a book open long after the story has ended.

You keep rereading the same pain, expecting a new ending. Therefore, you continue to manifest experiences similar to the pain you've endured, because your heart clearly hasn't closed out that chapter yet.

But you can close that book without burning it. You can say, “This chapter shaped me,” and still turn the page.

It’s selfish in the best way — to choose peace over punishment, love over bitterness. To trust that your soul orchestrated even the hardest experiences to reroute you toward alignment.

You manifested those lessons for a reason, and you’re not meant to carry their residue forever.

So you bless it all — the mistakes, the endings, the lessons — and keep walking.

Because when you rewrite the narrative to focus on growth, you stop asking, “Why did this happen to me?” and start saying, “This happened for me.”

That’s what true practicality is. It’s movement. It’s progress. It’s the refusal to stay stuck in stories that no longer serve your future.

God as the Great Organiser

Maybe the most practical expression of God is rhythm — the daily cycle of sunrise and sleep, creation and rest, breath in and breath out.

We’re not here to float above it all. We’re here to integrate heaven into the ordinary.

When we trust that the divine is not just “out there” but also inside our errands, our forgiveness, our checklists, our hard conversations — we stop separating spiritual life from daily life.

It all becomes prayer.

Because being practical is not the absence of spirit — it’s proof of faith in action.

It’s saying: I trust that if I move one step, God will meet me halfway.

Closing Reflection

Practicality is devotion disguised as discipline.

Forgiveness is freedom disguised as selfishness.

And God? God is right there — in the steady hands, in the quiet choices, in the simple act of showing up again tomorrow.