Unity: From Religion to Love
April 26th, 2012I considered not posting this.
First, it’s about my religious journey, which I haven’t really exposed here even though it’s been a vital aspect of my life since I started writing.
Second, there’s very little purpose to this post. I guess if I had to choose a purpose, it would be to share my experiences and maybe give you 2.5 laughs and possibly a chortle.
Finally, this post is long and mostly unedited. I intentionally refrained from editing it just to see what would happen.
This is what happened.
I was born in Memphis, Tennessee, the son of an atheist and an agnostic. Years later, when my parents divorced and my dad remarried, the list grew to an atheist, an agnostic, and a “no comment”.
My family didn’t talk about God and we definitely didn’t say grace before we ate. Any brief glimpses I had of the inside of a church were the result of reluctantly accompanying my girlfriend(s) at the time.
Fast-forward a bunch. When I was 27, I started dating the woman I would marry. In keeping with the trend of attending church with potential mates, I went to church with her and… I loved it. Like, really really loved it.
I’d get teary-eyed during worship songs. The sermons felt like they were written just for me. Just walking into the chapel would get me emotional. I joined the volunteer staff and became a proud member of a men’s group.
In the middle of summer in a public pool, I was even baptized.
Holy catechization, Batman
So what was different this time? Why did I feel so strongly about this church (which I will henceforth refer to as “Church”)?
Well, first of all, I was in love with the woman sitting next to me on the pew. Man, I was in love. This girl set fire to every part of me. I could barely look at her without being overcome by a whole mess of emotional shit: excitement, longing, insecurity, hope, etc. Around her, I felt like king of the world one minute and a helpless little boy the next.
For me, that was way too much feeling to keep in. Church was an outlet where I could let some of that stuff go. It was a powerful, emotive environment and a perfect place for me to just cry it out. And trust me, I cried it out.
(Here’s a confession: I’m kind of a crier, particularly when it comes to people I care about. It’s no exaggeration that I cried more during the courtship than I did after our divorce. Oops, *spoiler alert* I guess.)
So, I believe much of my connection to Church was forged in the flame of romantic love, but don’t get me wrong; there was some serious work being done in my spirit, too. I mean, a big building, a crowd and a moving speech don’t automatically make you into a sobbing, hot mess.
What else was at work that made this church experience so much different? Easy: the people.
I can go on for days about the quality of people employed at Church. I have never encountered such consistently genuine, beautiful people as I did there.
And boy, did they teach me a thing or two…
A paradoxical oxymoron
Early on in my experience at Church, I was talking with a staff member after a Sunday service. I clearly remember this guy explaining to me what made them different from some other churches.
Without a trace of irony, he looked right at me and said, “Our greatest enemy in helping people connect with God is religion.”
…
Hold on. What?
I’m pretty sure I immediately thought (but did not say) something like, “Let me tell you a secret, friend. Now, let me apologize in advance in case this blows your mind. Ready? You work in a church.”
He went on to explain that the most important thing was that people have a personal relationship with God. That’s it.
Ok, this was a completely new thing for me. Every time I’d been to church ever ever EVER, someone tried coercing me into joining the Dark Side. Hell, one time in college, a girl dragged me to a tent revival in the sweltering heat of summer in middle Tennessee. Talk about high-pressure selling.
Have you ever been to a tent revival in Tennessee in the middle of summer? Between the 90+ degree heat and the burning stares of 1,000 people awaiting your emphatic acceptance of Jesus Christ as Your Lord and Personal Savior®, you will be completely drenched with sweat and, oh I don’t know, soul juices or something. All I’m saying is if you have to choose between that and Hell, deliberate carefully. That’s all I’m saying.
But here was this guy who worked for the church, and he was very calmly and very seriously relaying to yours truly that religion was not their bag, so to speak.
Holy shit, talk about flipping the script. But it made sense and I loved it.
I still do. And I’m very proud to say that although I haven’t been a regular attendee of Church in almost two years, I still count people I met there as some of my dearest friends. They are, without exception, high-quality individuals. What a blessing.
Would you be surprised if I told you I’m getting a little teary writing this? Two things:
1) Get used to it.
2) Let’s move on.
Rightness, Certainty, and Joy [revisited]
In 2010, when I sold everything and drove from the midwest to southern California, I had a different, wholly unexpected kind of religious experience.
As I wrote back then, I was driving into San Diego for the first time and the same three words were projected into my brain over and over: rightness, certainty, and joy. Happy tears began streaming down my face and I just felt so damn good.
Though I didn’t realize it until months later, it was during those last few miles of the journey to my new home that I was being introduced to the concept of Sat Chit Ananda by me or, probably more appropriately, by my Self.
See, Sat Chit Ananda means “truth”, “consciousness”, “bliss”. It’s how the Hindu religion describes the experience of Brahman, the supreme soul.
Let me be especially clear on this point: I did not know anything about Hinduism before that trip and it was several months after that trip that I came across Sat Chit Ananda in a book. What was repeatedly going through my mind on that drive was something that I had no knowledge of and did not exist as far as I was concerned.
So yeah. That sort of got me thinking. And meditating. Oh, and doing yoga. At least an hour everyday. Yep, every. Single. Day.
Yoga I. Hot yoga. Anusara. Vinyasa. Hot power yoga. Surf flow yoga. Yoga II. Hip hop yoga. Candelit hot yoga. I even had my home practice that I did in places other than my home because I took my yoga mat with me everywhere.
It was the merging of body and spirit that really grabbed me. Forgive me if I’m preaching to the choir here, but to billions of people, yoga is not just a great way to burn calories and ogle fit, sweaty members of the opposite sex in positions that would otherwise be accompanied by awkward faces and a healthy amount of “oh baby”s. Sure, it’s those things, but it’s also a way to know God.
The times when I was strictly devoted to daily practices of meditation and yoga were the least anxious of my life. Even when I wasn’t meditating, I could sit and do nothing for hours. I had no sense of discomfort or boredom. Very little pissed me off.
(A longish aside: During that period, I remember talking to my mom on the phone one night and she asked me, “What do you do to relax? You know, unwind and release some stress?”
That just made no sense to me. I mean, I understood the question, of course. But I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be stressed out to a degree that I needed to do something about it. I recall just trying to think back to the days when I was working too much or maybe after my divorce… Anyway, whatever I told her was fairly useless and unenthusiastic, but it’s the best I could do at that moment. “Stress” just wasn’t something I could relate to.)
I am an alien
By coincidence (or not), I found myself making friends with people who were, um, different.
I met people who had gurus. Yes, people with gurus actually exist! They’re not just characters in Eat Pray Love, you have my sincerest guarantee. And these non-fictional people have real “enlightened master”-style gurus that they met in places like Thailand and Bali and India.
At a party, I had a long talk with a shaman who told me that her boyfriend was an alien she summoned 5000 years ago using the portals we now know as the Egyptian pyramids. And!!!! She told me I was from the same planet that her boyfriend was from.
*Spoiler alert*
I am an alien from another planet. So there’s that.
During that time, I stopped drinking, smoking, and eating meat (mostly). I finally started listening to my body. I cultivated good energy and worked to raise my awareness. I practiced expanding my compassion for everyone and everything.
I tried to become more love and become less negative, afraid, angry, selfish chicken-shit bastard.
In all, I had some successes and some failures, and I continue to try to do those things because they’re good things to do. I like myself better when I treat people well and that hasn’t always (ever?) come naturally to me.
But I’m getting there.
The devil is in the details
Here’s the thing*: I’m not trying to shine a skeptical light on any of this. Any of it could be absolutely, 100%, truly, consciously, blissfully true.
But here’s the other thing: your beliefs have to fit you – you can’t wedge yourself into a religion like you would a pair of jeans you still have from your skinny days in high school.
Maybe it’s just that I’m lazy (I am) or that I lack the commitment to pursue anything difficult (I do), but I just can’t get with this whole one-true-path approach to spirituality.
I’ve had many experiences that could fit into any spiritual framework you chose. Too many, in fact, to just apply one single framework to all of them.
The official line from where I’m sitting is that there are many ways to achieve our highest state of existence, whether that’s Heaven, enlightenment or what have you.
The most important thing is to be a good person. So what is a good person? Well, you might be a good person if:
1) If you treat people with respect, even people you don’t know, you might be a good person.
2) If you realize that EVERYONE has bad times in life, that they lose their job or have a loved one dying of cancer or came from an abusive home where they had to fight to survive, you might be a good person.
3) If you don’t take every opportunity to complain and say negative shit about others, you might be a good person.
4) If you take responsibility for your choices and actions instead of blaming everyone else, you might be a good person.
5) If you acknowledge that we’re all the same and that we all deserve love (recognizing the need for healthy boundaries and that some people do really heinous shit), you might be a good person.
Of course that isn’t an exhaustive list, but those are the ones that I’m mainly trying to be about these days.
I know that won’t jive with some people’s views and that’s ok. If you disagree with me, I still respect your beliefs. It would be cool if you respect mine, but whatever.
And if that really, really rubs you the wrong way, just a wait a week. Have faith. I might feel completely differently by then.
But I doubt it.
*“Here’s the thing” is copyright © 2004 Merlin Mann
