My first Substack newsletter went out last Thursday and I guaranteed my readers then that I would do this each Sunday. I don’t know if Sundays are the perfect day for this, but I think maybe so. It is my day for spiritual reflection. So, I did the writing on Sunday and now it is Monday and I am posting. I will get better at this.
Some are asking why I picked Spirituality. We will explore this in the coming weeks. I am a Writer, Editor, Writing Coach and Publisher and for many years, like decades, I have felt the draw to the word Spirituality. So, I did what comes natural to me, that is write about it and dissect it, and become so familiar that I could ‘wear’ this word as part of me. I reread my writings often, more than a couple hundred pages now, and add to them when moved to do so, but I have noticed here lately, in these last few years there are so many more strange usages of the word, and I have been questioning them a lot. I wondered if it really does fit who I am. Maybe it did once, but maybe not now.
What caused me to go public with my inner thoughts? Mostly realizing I couldn’t possibly be the only one with this quandary. And there are other words, too. This is just the beginning. Sorting through the pages and organizing my thoughts, I recognize Spirituality to be an all-encompassing noun, and I believe it to be a concept. I know many religious people claim “spirituality” for themselves. Even with my high school friend who I mentioned in the first newsletter (and who responded to my email asking “do you consider yourself more religious or more spiritual?), she and her friends (who also responded) are offended that people who don’t follow Jesus are allowed to call themselves spiritual. I felt offended also for the opposite reason. This was probably the catalyst that forced me into my chair to write about this subject for Substack.
I had always assumed spirituality to be a more personal path…a way of exploring our experiences and seeking a deeper meaning to life. I felt I was on a journey inward that was uniquely my own, asking such questions as why am I here? What is my purpose? I never thought I would have to explain my thoughts on this, and always believed others who were using spirituality, were doing the same, carving their paths inward. But, somewhere along the way, it seems to have been co-opted by the masses. Kind of the way “WOKE” was hijacked.
I am wondering if my definition is really viable now, so looked up some others. There are so many, it is hard to decide which way to go. Some are on the religious side and even quoting the word “Spirituality” in the Bible, then some saying the spiritual realm is beyond religion, and more powerful than their God. Some who claim atheism, then claim spirituality. It is all over the board. I think for my purposes it would be the spiritual realm is beyond religion and more powerful.
Let me tell you about my journey and why I think it is spiritual in nature. And, maybe in the process we can “define” this elusive word Spirituality. Or maybe, many of us might find we are living a much deeper existence, and the word Spirituality can no longer define us.
Why did I ‘hang my hat’ so to speak on SPIRITUALITY?
(1)I have not been able to connect with a religious body of any sort. None of their teachings seem to reach me where I am. I am sure I am not the only one feeling this way. The teachings seem shallow. And, yes, I understand that not all of us fit into certain boxes, but I have tried many different sizes of their box;
(2) Because I believe in the power of the Universe, Earth and Nature does that make me a pantheist? Maybe. I do believe them to be sacred and feel heartbroken the way others show lack of care for them. I can feel the energy that radiates through nature, and I feel I am being guided by spirit. I understand Pantheists don’t believe in spirit.
(3) I find my peace in an early morning sunrise, the fresh air caressing my skin. I’m in awe of nature’s surroundings. It’s all of that, then again, it is so much more. It is the “feel” of it all that takes me into a deeper space. One I wish I could live in continually throughout life. It can be when I am just walking in among the trees listening to the soughing, the whispers, as the wind moves through the leaves, walking or standing by the irrigation canal watching the mama ducks and geese with their babies just floating. Such peace. Did you ever really just stop and listen? In my earlier days, I would have given anything to leave a church service with this feeling. Absolutely anything. But just emptiness.
Let’s take a journey through some experiences and we will be jumping around a bit. :
The day I began to realize that something was different, and I started putting some things together:
Years ago, my husband and I were up camping in the Red Desert of Wyoming. It’s a glorious place even though Annie Proulx tried to destroy it with her book – The Red Desert: History of A Place. I left camp alone one morning to climb up to a saddle where I wanted to sit and meditate. It was a beautiful morning, and the higher I climbed the cooler it got. When I reached the saddle, I zipped up my sweatshirt to ward off the chill, then I found the perfect flat rock for me to sit on. Facing the sunrise, I settled in. So quiet and still, it was heavenly. About 15 minutes into my meditation, I felt movement and heard/felt the air change, like a swoosh of air moving very close right across my face. I sat still, and slowly opened my eyes. A whole flock of magpies were moving right through my space, as if I didn’t even exist. I was stunned. They were so beautiful, and I could have touched several of them. They were flying across my lap, by my face, very low over my head, instilling their peace and energy in me. I sat still until they were gone, took some deep breaths, then slowly got up, thanked them for the visit, and headed back down the mountain to cook us some breakfast. Normally, I would have hurried to tell my husband of my experience. But this was different. I needed time to take it all in. I felt energized but settled. A quietness moved through me. I was so at peace.
Every time I think of my times in the mountains, my thoughts go back to the way our parents raised us. I always wondered why we never ever went to church, and I was vocal about it, but it appeared to just bother me. Maybe I wanted to feel as if I belonged and because all of my classmates were going to church, I felt the need to as well. But that wasn’t how it was for us.
Through the years, I searched and searched, visiting churches, reading, trying to find where I could fit in, convinced it was the lack of religion. I never realized until much later that the life our parents gave us would be our blessing.
I don’t remember there ever being a discussion about any God or such, but we spent every waking minute that wasn’t taken up with our parents’ work schedule, school, after school activities, or homework in the hills. John, my younger brother, and I spent every minute we could up in those hills, then when Dad and Mom were available, we piled into the Jeep and headed out. Linda, our older sister, went on a few outings, but she was of the age other things were so much more important.
We checked out old mining claims. We learned about the sagebrush and the birds, the rattlesnakes, bull snakes and we needed to know the difference. They looked alike, but the rattles were the dead giveaway. No rattles on a bull snake. We were taught not to kill them, but to stay clear of them. We brought chipmunks home and kept them as pets for a few days, then with Mom’s insistence, we released them back into the hills. We understood the migration path of the tarantulas and we knew they wouldn’t hurt us as thousands upon thousands moved across our landscape, our roads, our yards. They were everywhere. Once a year this happened and lasted for about two months. We were told they were looking for love. We were also able to look at the earth and be grateful for the gifts She gave us, like crystals and other precious stones.
I loved our times in the hills and mountains, but I was so upset on not having religion I never realized until much later, the true gift our parents instilled in us. I remember there were times I would watch them walk towards a ridge and just stare off into the distance, the quiet. I didn’t understand then, but while writing the picture finally came into focus of how we were raised was truly a blessing. I have come to appreciate all the time in the hills with our parents. I believe they were doing what came natural for them. Now I find myself doing what they were doing so many years ago. It’s about ‘feeling’ – I wish we could have talked about this before they left us. It leaves me wondering, and forever grateful for showing us the beauty of nature.
Next Week, the Mountain Lions – are they my spirit animal or just a coincidence – we’ll see.
I am working on the subscription service and will share a bit of my writing before that goes up. We will see if spirituality is my guiding light.