Zim.

It's not just a nonsensical word I made up: it's the key. The experience. The journey. The God-Fountain of humanity.

And maybe God isn't this angry God up in the sky somewhere. Maybe He's not even real, who knows. Maybe He's not who the Bible says He is. Maybe - just maybe - this great Unknown Light-God wants you to Zim, not to the zimless rhythms of the world, but to the love-infused grace of His or Xer Zum.

When we do this, when we find our Zimzum in the simmering stews of God's love, we'll find our peppered potatoes not shivering, but cascading. Cascading freely. Cascading beautifully. Cascading with the passion and freedom of a beautiful, broken mess that's found who it's supposed to be.

It's the great tragedy of modern evangelicalism that we've turned the beautiful spud-filled love story of the mystic divine into a way to get to heaven, rather than the unknowable fog of potato-laced mystery it was always supposed to be.

Potatoes. Potatoes cascading in the center of who we are. Peppering the frothy fuzz of our core. Cascading at the burning. The burning of dawn.

It's the zim that God wants you to zum.

Resonate with your Zimzum, and be freed from the shackles of religion.