I tell the woman giving me a pedicure that I like her tattoo. She extends her arm toward me, lets me hold her forearm to look closer. Beaming, she says, “It’s my God tattoo.” Tells me the story about how she would travel 3 hours across her home city in India to worship this God for days. I imagine her kneeling at the foot of a golden shrine praying until she has poured herself empty of everything that creates distance between her and the divine. I tell her I feel closest to God when I am in nature and she says, “I was looking at a tree in my backyard and thought about how the leaves are part of its body, yet the tree holds no possession over them. As humans, we cling to possession, always naming and claiming something as our own. The tree does not cling to its leaves because it knows letting go is part of the process of growing them back again.” We lock eyes and smile at each other, a thread of light shimmers between us like two Gods meeting, becoming one.