by Sarah Bowen
Twain’s contribution is from his book The Innocents Abroad: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” Travel helps me see people as individuals, and to see the great diversity of viewpoints everywhere I go. Globe-trotting helps me understand people and where they are coming from in their opinions and beliefs, creating gaping holes in my stereotypes and generalizations.
Because generalizations bug me. Whenever I hear someone say, “Christians believe…” or “Muslims think…” or “Buddhists say…,” I cringe. Really? Have you talked to every Christian? Or even a representative from each denomination? (The World Christian Database states there are over 9,000.) Likewise, there are multiple divisions in every religion I’ve checked. Not one is unified. Even within each group, individual views differ. If you are feeling resistance to this idea because I’ve used the R-word, try one of these: “Californians think…” or “Men believe…” There’s just no way for these statements to hold up to scrutiny.
Which brings me to Paley, who wrote in his book Evidences of Christianity: “Contempt prior to examination is an intellectual vice, from which the greatest faculties of mind are not free.” These words remind me that I can be very quick to judge what is not for me—to reject ideas, people, and places without examining them thoroughly, or based solely on some past snippet of info. For example, scholars estimate that there are 4,200 religions in the world. So it’s hard for me to say “all religions are bullshit” if I’ve only ever experienced one, or the big five, or even a dozen. What I call “sacred space-crashing” creates the possibility that someday I might just stumble into the perfect one, like finding Cinderella’s glass slipper. And in the meantime, I’m learning what resonates with me—and what doesn’t. With each visit, I understand a little more about the people who hang out there.
By traveling to different places and spaces, my judgments about groups can be replaced by the authentic stories of individual people. Admittedly, I don’t always agree with some, and occasionally I vehemently disagree. But instead of lobbing F-bombs at them on social media, I’m engaged in trying to find our similarities, so we can more compassionately discuss our differences. Often, meeting people from other religions has helped me question my own presumptions and generalizations. And occasionally, vice versa.
I’ve also learned that transcending the discussion of beliefs can be helpful. Increasingly, I’m keen on experiencing how a location, ritual, or spiritual practice feels for me, rather than being told what it is supposed to be about or do for me.
I’ve lodged with Lakotas; whirled till I dropped with Sufis; meditated with Buddhists; immersed myself in 12-step meetings; bowed my head reverently in prayer with Catholics; hit the floor solemnly with Muslims; chanted seemingly endless kirtan with Hindus; sung really, really loud in a Christian mega-church; davened quietly with Jews in a synagogue; and cried entirely too resoundingly in Barcelona’s Sagrada Familia. I’ve even paradoxically joined atheists in group prayer. Some places I’ve gone only once, others have become places to which I return for spiritual nourishment.
Paul Born, in his book Deepening Community, suggests that seeking community is natural, as well as part of the spiritual journey. Instead of viewing communities as places developed for rules and exclusion, Born suggests they are places to share our stories, enjoy one another by spending time together, care for each other, and work to build a better world. Being together satisfies our inherent need to feel cared for and to belong, even if the group isn’t always perfectly behaved. Born describes it this way, “Deepening community is the desire to feel safe, knowing that we are part of a community together, that we have our good points and bad and yet are accepted for who we are—yes, at times judged, and yes, at times gossiped about, but never ignored and always included. Deepening community means knowing that, with these people, we belong.”
Of course, not all organizations are created equal. Those formed around fear, hate, or a “we will crush that other group” mentality aren’t likely to support you in deepening or expanding your personal spirituality. Neither will ones that try to control you, take away your power of choice, or devalue you and your values. Ultimately, it’s up to you to find the right fit.
HOW IT WORKS
1. Close your eyes and visualize places where you feel spiritually nourished.
2. Ask yourself these questions, waiting for an honest answer from within yourself:
• How can I deepen my connection to these places?
• Would it benefit me to spend more time in these locations?
• Is there an opportunity to do seva at any of these sites?
3. Feel the answers. Connect with how they feel physically, emotionally, spiritually, and energetically.
4. Take some breaths. Inhale and exhale slowly.
5. Now ask these questions:
• What kind of spiritual spaces am I curious about?
• Which of my friend’s traditions might be thought-provoking to visit?
• Is there anything that holds me back from visiting these places?
6. Take another breath. Inhale and exhale slowly.
7. Write down any ahas about future actions you might like to take as a result of these reflections.
REBELLIOUS VARIATIONS
If you are seeking a spiritual community: Gather a few friends together for an afternoon of sharing about spiritual journeys. If people mention places that sound intriguing, consider crashing their sacred spaces with them as a host. Or join together to visit a site you’ve never been before.
Seed a group: Have a lot of meditators in your tribe? Or people who like to watch spiritual movies? Any interest can create something to form a group around.
Virtual can be reality: Technology like Zoom and Skype makes it super easy to gather friends for an afternoon or evening of spiritual moments.
The more the merrier: If you are already part of a spiritual community, look for opportunities to invite others into your community, perhaps by bringing in new topics. My friend Darby Line is active in both a local interfaith group and the Episcopal church. Seeing a chance to deepen her community and build bridges, she invited speakers from other Abrahamic religious traditions to speak at her church, with a Q&A session afterward. She shared with me, “So many congregants told me they had no idea there was so much in common between the faiths. It was incredibly rich and informative. Seeding, expanding, not sure what to call it—for sure opening a lot of eyes and minds.”
Start the path: Many of us eventually feel a call to deepen in a particular path, tradition, or religion. That call can challenge us to toss out any baggage we might have accumulated about the R-word: religion, or about our feelings of committing to a group. Yes, it is possible to be spiritual-and-religious.
DISCOVER DEEPLY
• Read How to Be a Perfect Stranger: The Essential Religious Etiquette Handbook by Stuart M. Matlins and Arthur J. Magida.
• Find road-trip-worthy locations for crashing at atlasobscura.com.
• Read Moral Tribes: Emotion, Reason, and the Gap Between Us and Them by Joshua Greene.
• Watch With One Voice, which includes mystics from 14 different groups sharing their perspectives.
• Listen to Deepening Community: Finding Joy Together in Chaotic Times by Paul Born.
• Read Whistling Vivaldi: How Stereotypes Affect Us and What We Can Do by Claude M. Steele.
• Learn about new trends in creating spiritual communities at howwegather.org.
Rebel with (a lot of) clues
* * *
So that’s it. You’re enlightened now, right? Spiritual AF.* Living stress-free, consistently full of compassion—even for your annoying neighbor. Perfectly handling every challenge, oozing serenity. Your Instagram overfloweth with constant #instagood inspiration.
Well, maybe some of you are doing all these things. But most of us are, admittedly, still works in progress. With effort, our spiritual moments—from Amen to Zen and everything in between—may be meldin
g into something else: a deeper knowing of ourselves and our sacred connections. As the Yoga Sūtras of Patañjali suggest, “Any effort toward steadiness of the mind is spiritual practice.” No effort is small. No clue is meaningless.
True, you may not have done all the activities in this book, and you may even want to toss a couple of those you did do into your sacred trash. No worries. The journey is not about racking up time on a meditation cushion or in a church pew. Nor is it about chasing the next enlightenment experience, peak moment, or spiritual high. Instead, it’s about living a life infused with spirit. We are spirituality in progress.
Hopefully, in your journey through this book, you’ve picked up a few clues about what helps you get—and stay—connected to the sources of spirituality in your life. Returning over and over again to those activities—or dare we now confidently say practices?—can create a strong foundation from which to navigate our lives.
And since you’ve read this far, permit me to stand on a soapbox for a moment: Being a spiritual rebel does not mean setting ourselves up as superior to people who are involved in religion. It’s time to stop dumping everything we dislike about people onto the word religion. We’re simply too smart to sit in denial of where our spiritual practices come from—or conveniently ignore the immense good done by many communities that consider themselves “religious.” Instead of throwing the baby out with the proverbial bath water, walking a sacred path necessitates mining the religions and wisdom traditions of the world for their finest bits. Religions—at their best—are groups of caring, spiritual people trying to support each other to get good stuff done in their community (so that all can feel sustained and strengthened). Religions—at their worst—are groups of people focusing on how to keep themselves solid (by excluding those that stretch their ideas of what the community stands for). Spirituality and religion are not opposites. Instead, informing each other, they can be kindred spirits.
It’s crucial that our spiritual lives are not about merely chasing joy, serenity, and bliss. In times of stress or loss, our deeper perspective can provide the support we need to deal with the pain we are experiencing inside. Further, it can help us be the life preserver for those around us who are suffering. As we traipse along through our chaotic world—a world brimming with conflict—our spiritual connection can provide much-needed balance and healing. Like the Japanese art of kintsugi, where cracks in pottery are mended with powdered gold, we can repair our broken parts not by hiding them, but by shining light into our fractures, honoring them as part of our history, pieces of who we are. Spirituality is the golden glue that holds us together solidly enough to ask the most profound questions.
I AM…
Poet e. e. cummings once said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” Damn right.
Ask yourself:
• Who am I when no one is looking?
• Who would I be if I had no social media feed, no brand?
• What could happen if I focused less on the opinions of others?
I AM CONNECTED TO…
Now expand.
• Consider when you have felt connected.
• Have you glimpsed anything more expansive than the “Iness” of your individuated self?
• How would you describe that connection?
I CONNECT BY…
Consider this Zen saying: “Enlightenment is an accident, and practice makes us accident prone.” Take a few moments to review any comments you made in the reflection pages of this book, looking for clues to which spiritual experiences brought you closer to connection.
• What activity would you like to make a more consistent practice?
• What would you like to deepen?
• Were there any activities you didn’t have time for, but would want to dip back into?
• What spaces feed your spirituality?
• Which communities feel nurturing and supportive?
• Looking at the next few weeks, how can you expand spiritual moments into your personal spiritual path?
NOTES
* For those of you who just said “Huh?” AF means to the utmost degree. Literally, it stands for as fuck. Or when I say it: as Force.
Revealing higher purpose
* * *
For most of this book, we’ve been looking at how to deepen our perspective. Now let’s tackle higher purpose. Perhaps yours has always been clear to you. My friend Mike once told me that when he was a tot, he thought there was no choice other than firefighter for when he grew up. Not because his father or some other family member fought fires. Nor because he loved fire trucks and the uniform. Nope. It was because on TV he had seen Smokey, a giant brown bear in pants and a hat, tell him it was his responsibility: Remember, only you can prevent forest fires! Mike took that literally. Only he could. No one else. He must become a firefighter. Only he could help.
Childhood symbols often imprint this strongly. For me, of course, it has been the Star Wars universe. Whether it was Leia and the Rebel Alliance trying to save the world from Vader’s destructive Death Star, Finn and Rose releasing space horses from their stable prison, or the woke droid L3 demanding equal rights for all life forms, I watched those characters seek something greater than their own individual glory.
My sister Amy’s childhood inspiration was the courageous Wonder Woman, a damsel who broke free from distress, a powerful symbol of feminine power called to seek justice. Amy’s not alone. I recently tossed the following question onto Facebook: Who was your favorite childhood superhero and why? Wonder Woman made the list more than once. So did the Bionic Woman, Catwoman, and sassy Buttercup from the PowerPuff Girls—all for redefining what it means to be female. X-Men’s Phoenix, Rogue, and Mystique represented the awesome power of embracing your seeming oddness.
Not surprisingly, masculine energy was represented, too: Batman appeared (“for his dark vibe and lack of traditional superpowers”) followed by Superman (“an ordinary person who could do the right thing without needing recognition”). Dropping super in favor of epic heroic journeys, people exalted Luke Skywalker (Star Wars); Aragorn, son of Arathorn (Lord of the Rings); Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons (Game of Thrones); and Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay (The Hunger Games).
Inspiring characters weren’t limited to those in human form. Adorable mutt Benji was admired for knowing what to do in tough situations. Bugs Bunny was appreciated for being smart, resilient, and always a few steps ahead of the game. Serendipitously, a unicorn appeared: Jewel from the Chronicles of Narnia series was cited for bravery.
Post after post, people’s answers tipped me to what was important to them, what they valued in others, and what traits they most wanted to embody themselves. To up the ante, a few days later I posted a second question: Who is your most inspiring spiritual rebel (dead or alive) and why? Surprisingly, people were even more passionate about their answers. Many infamous personalities appeared, including St. Francis of Assisi, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, and mystic poet Kabir. Modern activists abounded: rebellious Hieronymite nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, secret agent Nancy Wake, the women members of the initiative Roman Catholic Women Priests, Joan of Arc, Chief Joseph, and myriad LGBTQIA+ advocacy groups. Bestselling authors dominated the list, including Alice Walker, Richard Rohr, Madeline L’Engle, Eknath Easwaran, Alan Watts, Matthew Fox, and Anne Lamott. A number of people referenced their personal mentors or the leader of their spiritual community.
And my dear friend Sushmita declared Yoda, perfectly bridging both questions. But the posts were not without controversy: A heated knock-down-drag-out debate about Mother Teresa went on for a few days, proving we’re not always aligned about our heroes.
As I read the eloquent, glowing descriptions of just why these people were inspiring, I had an aha! moment that in hindsight seems quite obvious: Both our superheroes and spiritual rebels are called. Whether by the bat signal, a deep inner knowing, or divine intervention, the call is one that must be answered.
> Likewise, throughout this book, we’ve sent out calls beyond our unique personalities. Some of us might have heard something coming back or felt something deep within. Others might have seen a glimpse of something. We may have heard our true name. And a few of us might even have heard a calling.
Historically, the word calling has described people who felt a pull towards a religious vocation. (In Latin, vocātiō means “a call,” so that makes sense.) But these days, it’s used outside of the religious context, too, taking us past the question: “What do I want to be when I grow up?” It goes beyond whatever Mom, Dad, or some other formative figure whispered to us (or shouted at us) in our childhood. A calling can be discovered through personal yearning and awakening: a meta-purpose, dharma, destiny.
Inspiring vows, creeds, and ethics statements, a calling motivates visioning and planning. Callings are the doing that clothes our being, our spirituality in action. For many of us, our distinct calling is not nearly as epic as it is in comic books, movies, or the sacred texts of our spiritual traditions. Sometimes it lingers just beyond our awareness, waiting for what seems like a lifetime to reveal itself. Often it doesn’t show up in our vocation or job, appearing in some other part of our life. Frequently, our calling is just remaining open to opportunities that show up for us, walking through our lives with a constant seva attitude, reflected in everything we do.
During the writing of this book, I was awed (and humbled) by the sheer amount of selflessness going on under the surface of what feels like an increasingly chaotic (and divided) world. Here are just a few examples:
THAT’S THE LAST STRAW