Tag: faith

The Sacred Journey Beyond Religion

In 2024, the Pew Research Center found that 28% of Americans check “none” as their choice of religion.

So many of us have stepped away from organized faith, not out of rebellion, but from a courageous honesty with ourselves that we could no longer ignore. For some of us, the rituals had grown hollow, the dogmas too small for the vastness of our questions. Others of us saw how our institutions had become rigid or exclusionary.

Here’s a hard-won truth that many of us share. When we trade wonder for certainty, our souls begin to suffocate. As Jesus said in one of his most enduring metaphors, you can’t place new wine into old wineskins. It will only cause further rupture.

Have you ever walked out of a sanctuary you once felt was sacred, wondering if you were leaving behind not just your faith, but the language of your soul? If so, take heart. We are not losing our spirituality. We are rediscovering it in a deeper and freer form.

The Quiet Hunger Within

All of us carry a hunger for meaning that no amount of success, pleasure, or distraction can fill. We want to know that our lives matter, that we belong to something greater than ourselves. This longing stirs in the silence before dawn, in the tears we can’t explain, in the beauty that takes our breath away. It is not a problem to be solved. It is an invitation.

So where do we turn when we yearn for the sacred, but no longer fit inside the old containers?

The Open Path

First, we realize that spirituality was never confined to human temples, effigies, or sacred texts. It is written into the fabric of existence itself. The same Presence that inspired prophets and poets is alive in each of us, waiting for us to notice.

You might glimpse it in a forest trail glowing with morning light.
You might sense it in the deep stillness of meditation, or in the laughter of a friend who sees you fully.
You might feel it in moments of awe, when the boundaries between “you” and “everything else” dissolve.
You might see it looking back at you through the eyes of your child or grandchild.

Each of these is a doorway into the same mystery.

Spiritual satisfaction doesn’t come from subscribing to the right belief, but from cultivating awareness. And as our consciousness grows, so does our compassion, our sense of unity, and our capacity for joy. We begin to live not from fear, but from connection.

Companions on the Road

Our quest for meaning is not a solo expedition. We belong to a vast community of people asking similar questions, struggling with uncertainties, and finding revelations they never imagined. Each of our companions along the way carries a spark of the mystery we seek. When we share our stories, we participate in a sacred exchange. We remind each other that the search itself is holy.

Some of us find this connection through contemplative circles, mindfulness groups, or creative communities. Others of us find it through feeding the hungry, tending the earth, or comforting the lonely.

Wherever we practice love, spirit is present. As the timeless Persian poet, Rumi, once said, “In every religion there is love, yet love has no religion.”

Evolving Notions of the Divine

Words are simply pointers. This is a crucial realization. God, Tao, Source, Beloved, Mystery, Great Spirit are all terms intimating something we can never fully capture in language. The immensity of the cosmos and its origin are better experienced through awe. Over time, we find that the divine becomes less a being “out there” and more a living presence within and around everything. We come to see that spirituality is not about believing, but about being fully awake to the sacred dimension of everyday existence.

As our understanding expands, so does our compassion. We stop worrying about who’s right and who’s wrong in matters of faith. We start asking: What helps me love more deeply? What helps me live with gratitude? What helps me serve the wholeness of life?

The Great Thrills of the Journey

The spiritual journey beyond religion may begin with a sense of loss, but discoveries soon fill that void in myriad ways. Imagine:

  • The thrill of realizing that every sunrise, every act of kindness, every moment of awareness is a form of prayer.
  • The freedom of knowing that you no longer need to pretend certainty; that questions themselves are sacred.
  • The joy of feeling at home in the universe, even without a map.

Looking back, we see that we are not exiles. Instead, we have found a calling, an invitation to grow beyond the boundaries of old beliefs and into the spaciousness of wonder.

The Infinite Yes

If you find yourself wandering beyond the walls of religion, trust the journey. Follow the tug of your own curiosity. Keep your heart open to beauty, mystery, and love. The sacred has not abandoned you. It has simply changed its address, moving from the altar to the open sky, from the sermon to the beating of your own heart.

You are still on holy ground.

by Tags: , , , , , , 2 Comments

Heaven is Now: Adjust Your Vision, Find Balance – Conclusion

If you missed the first parts of this series, you can find them there: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

Conclusion

It should be clear now that this series is about experimenting with our sense of time to find more balance. Many of us, me included, can too easily live our days out of whack. Worry, regret, judgments of ourselves or others, and the unwillingness to surrender our illusion of control can get us off track.

Whatever the origin, we can do something about this suffering. We can develop mental tools and disciplines that lead us to more harmony. 

There are stories, especially in Eastern traditions, which feature spiritual masters who attained a final form of nirvana. Think of the myth of Buddha sitting beneath the Bo Tree. Weary of his endless experiments to achieve enlightenment, he sat down and reportedly said, “Let my skin and sinews and bones dry up, together with all the flesh and blood of my body! I welcome it! But I will not move from this spot until I have attained the supreme and final wisdom.” Throughout that night, enshrined in legend, he battled the final illusions that kept him ensnared.

I’m sure such transcendent victories exist. Their ripple effects are undeniable in history. However, in most of our lives the desire (and struggle) to awaken happens in the fray of daily living—while we’re working, caring for our family, or carving out leisure time from our schedules. This is why I resonate with a quote from the Alcoholics Anonymous Big Book: What we have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.

Reprieve may sound like a harsh word, meaning the postponement of punishment. But think about it. When our lives are out of balance, it punishes us physically, mentally, and emotionally. A liberating three-dimensional vision of time helps restore balance and release our self-punishment.

Also, the words “our spiritual condition” won’t resonate for some of you. Substitute a word or phrase of your choice. I’ve heard others use “a balanced state of mind,” “emotional equilibrium,” or “my connection to higher self.” Whatever works to bring more balance into your life!

I’m on the email list for Hay House publications, and I receive regular ads about their eBooks for sale. I mean no disrespect to the many authors, but it reminds me of a booklet I cowrote with my friend, Heiwa no Bushi, The Six Medicines of BodhiChristo. The introduction begins with these words.

     A friend and I were recently discussing our favorite inspirational books. He and I are co-explorers, coloring outside the lines of conventional spirituality, testing every truth in the laboratories of our own lives. We had a good belly laugh as we recited the steps, secrets, and keys touted by various writers. So many of these maxims are similar, recycled and refreshed to make them seem trendy.

     In reality, this is age-old wisdom transmitted to us by a myriad of cultures and teachers. The ancient Hebrews called it derek olam, the everlasting way inscribed in our genes since the beginning of time. It is dharma, Tao, the cosmic order, a river wending its way to the ocean and inviting us for a swim.

I hope you know that right now I’m laughing at myself for contributing yet another title to this endless stream of literature. Why do it? Because if there’s a chance that even one person receives some assistance in liberating his/her mind from these posts, it will have been eternally worthwhile.

Please know that I, like you, am a human being in progress. I work every day to get my reprieve, and I assure you, it does get easier!

I close with a string of greetings gleaned from various spiritual traditions around the world. I have used them in many of my books.

Namaste! God bless you! As-salamu alaykum!Mitákuye Oyás’iŋ! May the Force be with you! Keep on truckin’!

by Tags: , , , , , Leave a comment

Heaven is Now: Adjust Your Vision, Find Balance – Part Two

If you missed Part One of this series, here is the link.

The Harmony of Appreciation and Anticipation

This early part of the 21st century, like most junctures in human history, showcases the worst of our failures. Nations reverting to xenophobia, scapegoating immigrants. Chasms widening between classes. Wars continuing to rage. Ecosystems groaning under the weight of unsustainable consumption. Despite its tiny duration, the Anthropocene era is exceedingly destructive.

I cannot live without hope. It’s like oxygen for my soul. I maintain that there’s another trend, another golden strand of our evolution, an awareness dawning across our globe. I see people awakening. People recognizing our crucial need to embody love and tolerance. People realizing that our driven consumerism, stoked by discontent and covetousness, is ultimately hollow, even poisonous. May all of us emerge from our societal illusions as soon as possible!

Part of this trend is the popularity of what we call mindfulness, championed by talk show hosts, celebrities, and scores of books. There are even phone apps like Calm that help us reside more fully here and now. It conjures hope that the liberation of our minds will lead to the freedom of our hearts and spirits.

As I’ve stated, I propose some additions to our mindfulness—a fusion of differing realities that impinge on our consciousness daily. Let’s do this first with appreciation (no regrets) and joyful anticipation (no fears).

Appreciation

Of Our Genetic Makeup: An entire industry now exists for the analysis of our DNA. We pay a sum, send in an organic sample, then learn the root percentages of our ancestry. On TV, we hear people sharing the surprises that awaited them: unique forebears, some of them famous; awareness of ethnic mixtures; ties to new tribes and traditions.

Hopefully, this celebration of our roots leads to another gift: accepting and loving the literal shape of who we are.

There’s a tragic truth that permeates human history. We have discriminated against each other based on skin color, height, weight, facial features, and body shapes that pass as beautiful. In some cultures, these notions of physical appearance have taken a bizarre turn.

While on a trip to Belize, I learned of a cruel way that the Mayans shaped the looks of male children destined to be leaders. They placed an apparatus between their eyes to induce them to become crossed, and then affixed slats of wood against their foreheads, gradually tightening the fasteners so that their craniums slanted upward. Why would they cause such pain to an innocent child? Because a slightly cross-eyed man with a sloped skull was their depiction of god-like physical attributes.

The Padaung people of southeast Asia consider long necks among women an attractive trait. Girls as young as age two are fitted with neck rings that artificially stretch the length between the clavicle and the chin. The rings increase with age until a grown woman may have as many as 20 or more. They endure painful chafing their entire lives and cannot remove these coils without the risk of neck collapse. All in the name of beauty!

A more familiar example was foot binding in China, the brutal practice of breaking and tightly binding the feet of young girls to change their shape and size. Feet conformed in this way became “lotus feet,” touted as a mark of feminine beauty, but in reality, a relegation to servitude. It led to great pain, limited motion, and lifelong disabilities. It wasn’t until 1949 that China officially outlawed this savage, sexist practice.

These examples seem extreme, but Western culture promotes its own brand of desirable traits. Publishers plaster their magazines with images of those considered beautiful and desirable, often “photoshopped” to mask any blemishes. Traditionally, these were skinny, almost waif-like icons of femininity. I celebrate that recently we are seeing more “full-bodied” appearances, but the underlying message is often the same. Our culture objectifies others and us, a lack of appreciation and acceptance of our natural physicality.

Beneath this harmful veneer are countless individuals who internalize these notions of beauty. They weigh themselves on this scale and decide they are lacking, leading to self-doubt, even depression.  You can see this clearly in recent statistics. Demand for cosmetic surgery continues to grow in America, with the industry expected to gross 254 billion by 2033.1 Another study shows that between 2000 and 2018, eating disorders doubled worldwide.2 And the lunacy continues. In my hometown of San Antonio, there are billboards along the freeway that promise fuller lips, shapely buttocks, and larger breasts. One of these cosmetic surgeons is known as El Frutero, the Fruit Seller, implying that he can turn women into luscious edibles.

 I’m the father of a disabled adult son. Over the years, his peers have included those with Down Syndrome and other genetic markers giving them physical characteristics far outside our cultural notions of beauty. I’ve had the glorious privilege of involvement with Special Olympics, a celebration of accepting ourselves for who we are. There’s a powerful moment seared in my memory. A young man with cerebral palsy was participating in the 100-meter dash at the state finals in Texas. I was in the stands with hundreds of spectators. The palsied competitor couldn’t actually run, just walk in a jerky manner. He soon fell to last place, moving at one fourth the speed of other competitors. Those of us in the bleachers rose to our feet, cheering him on. You would have thought we were applauding Usain Bolt, and the crescendo of our support as he crossed the finish line is something I will always cherish.

In one of my speaking engagements, I pointed to a large easel draped in white cloth. “In a moment,” I said, “I will unveil the face of the most beautiful woman in the world.” I paused, letting those words sink in. “I mean it. This is not just my opinion, but the result of numerous international polls. So, are you ready? Do you want to see her?” Hundreds of heads nodded in unison, men showing the most eagerness. I walked to the easel and pulled away the cloth with a flourish, revealing the craggy face of Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu, known to the world as Saint Teresa of Calcutta. A woman who, by any world standard of physical beauty, was not even in the ballpark, but whose inner beauty of spirit shone through her eyes to everyone who knew her.

Imagine if we learned to see others in way that is untainted by the judgements society injects into us. In one of my short stories, The Sanctuary, two of the characters are chatting at a farmer’s market. They discover a common interest in people watching. Let’s eavesdrop on their conversation.

“This may sound strange,” said Dona, “but I’ve been experimenting with my perspective, especially in public places. When I watch, I try to observe how my mind responds. Am I reacting to people as types? You know, cataloguing skin colors, body shapes, clothing choices, tones of voice. Or can I just see each person, really see them? Does that make sense?”
John smiled. “It does. It’s hard, isn’t it, to just be in the moment and let go of the constant chatter and judgements? I remember reading a powerful piece by Krishnamurti to that effect. The line I recall is this, ‘The ability to observe without evaluating is the highest form of intelligence.’”

Try applying this higher intelligence more regularly to others. When you see them, think “What a beautiful human being!” Then practice the same acceptance with yourself if you ever look in the mirror. Appreciate your genetic characteristics! This is your only physical form for this life’s journey. As we learn to love others and ourselves with all of our attributes, especially those the world considers imperfect, we discover a more radiant love!

Appreciation of Our Family Influence. There is nature (our genes) and there is nurture, the influence of family, teachers, and other key people who raise us. Learning to appreciate their effects on us—both positive and negative—is key to developing this third eye that sees a harmonious balance of life’s realities.

If you come from a family that consistently affirmed you, helping you accept your uniqueness and make the most of it, I hope you feel blessed. If, instead, you come from a dysfunctional home, a nuclear system that left you with scars of heart and mind, I understand. Believe me! I know this firsthand, and sometimes it seems near impossible to release our grievances about the past.

Here is where I’m hopeful once again. I sincerely believe that each of us can arrive at inner serenity if we put in the spiritual work. This requires deep forgiveness and acceptance, a state of mind in which we no longer need affirmation from those who should have freely given it to us. It’s the liberation found in the well-known prayer attributed to St. Francis, “O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.”

Consider the concept of filial piety taught by Confucius in the 5th century B.C. It calls for respecting our ancestors and current family members, beginning with our parents. According to Confucius, this is the mortar that holds societies together. To use another image, it’s the sinews that connect the body of humanity. Without it, there is chaos.

I’m not saying we should submit to unjust authority. There are times when we need to raise our fists in protest. There are times when we need to withdraw from the reach of those who would continue to hurt us, even our family members.

Yet there is still great wisdom in what Confucius taught, echoed in the Jewish commandment, “Love your father and mother, so that it may be well with you, and you may live long on the earth.” When we learn to love our elders, breaking loose of resentments into the pure air of forgiveness and acceptance, our world becomes steadier on its axis. We are then freer to exercise our own uniqueness.

How will we know when we have reached this level of maturity? When our memories of toxic events become healed, no longer releasing radioactivity into our lives. I’ve always loved these words from Lewis B. Smedes, one of the most profound writers on forgiveness.

“Forgiving does not erase the bitter past. A healed memory is not a deleted memory. Instead, forgiving what we cannot forget creates a new way to remember. We change the memory of our past into a hope for our future.”

I once counseled a man who demonstrated this healing principle in action.

He had every legitimate reason to hate his upbringing. His whole family system was addicted—his father to work, his mother to alcohol, a brother to drugs. With an absent male figure and a female influence that was domineering and unpredictable, he had no port in a storm. He drifted into addiction himself, making one misguided decision after another.

In recovery, his mind began to clear. He learned the concepts of surrender, transparency, forgiveness, and serving others. He began to practice what Twelve Steppers call a “daily inventory,” a growing awareness of the thought patterns that still held him in bondage.

What cropped up repeatedly was the residual pain and anger attached to his family. He knew that without letting go of this turmoil, he couldn’t experience true sobriety. But how was he to do that? People gave him loads of advice and most of it sounded like trite slogans that never penetrated his spirit.

Then he internalized another essential part of appreciation…

Appreciation of Our Suffering and Struggle: Participants in Twelve Step fellowships often hear startling words. Someone says, “My name is ‘so and so’ and I’m a grateful addict/alcoholic.” Then they often share their painful history: blackouts, health problems, jail time, repeated stints in rehab, or the overwhelming despair that led to thoughts of suicide. If they have plumbed the depths of recovery, they also see the suffering they caused for everyone around them—relatives, neighbors, coworkers, even innocent bystanders in the community.

Who would be grateful for a disease that led to these consequences? Answer: someone who realizes a profound and liberating truth: every experience in our lives, no matter how painful, can promote spiritual maturity, even joy, if we learn the lessons offered.

Despite what you may think, this isn’t a rare occurrence. You will find it among people of all races, ages, occupations, and educational levels who have done the work to liberate themselves. Let them bring you hope!

Every one of us can look back and dwell on mistakes we’ve made, loves we’ve lost, or chances we missed. Regret can become a self-defeating trance that traps us in the hamster-wheel repetitions of our minds. Or, we can cling to our blame of family members, friends, or associates who carelessly or intentionally wounded us. We nurse those grudges as if we are watering one of the plants in Little Shop of Horrors.

Instead, if we calmly affirm the lessons we have learned from each and every one of these struggles, our third eye begins to open and gives us clarity.

Thankfully, the man I mentioned broke through to the liberating insights he needed. As he prepared to make amends to those he had harmed through his addiction, he realized that he also needed to forgive himself for the pain he had caused. He connected with the saving power of grace, and he knew that he needed to extend this quality to others who had harmed him. It was far from easy, but over time, he transformed his memories into serenity for the present and hope for the future. He recently said this to me: “It’s amazing. It never thought I would reach this point in my life. I am completely in my own skin. I wouldn’t want to have any other history. I wouldn’t want to be any other place. I wouldn’t want to be any other person.”

Think again of the Tao symbol in which the dark portion contains a point of light, and the light portion contains a point of darkness. This is a perfect depiction of living in a middle path when it comes to our suffering and struggle. In the dark we can discover points of illumination. In the light, we are aware of our own flaws so that we never succumb to arrogance. It’s a beautiful way of being!

Now let’s turn from appreciation to anticipation.

Joyful Anticipation

In a previous book of mine—Consider the Lilies: Five Ways to Stop Worrying and Enjoy the Kingdom of God—I wrote the following.

Our English word “worry” comes from the Old English wyrgan, meaning “to strangle.” How fitting, for this is exactly what worry does to us! It grabs us by the neck and chokes away the vitality from our lives. Worry steals our peace, weakens our potential, and sours our closest relationships. Just when it seems we have pried away its strangling tentacles, it throws out others we never knew were there.

Worry is fear rooted in negative anticipation. Fueled by unhealed moments from our past or the constant barrage of negativity that flows from the world around us, we anticipate, even imagine, the worst. But despite our fight or flight genetics, there’s a more peaceful reality, a pearl of great price imbedded in our innermost nature. It’s the knowledge that we are immersed in a benign Presence that we alternately call God, Higher Power, Spirit, or Tao. Surrendering to this Mystery can fill us with a sense of wellbeing that erases our expectation of calamity.

Unlike the past and its concrete images stored in our memory, the future is yet unexplored. This is why I use the words joyful anticipation.

At this point, some of you may strongly object. Based on your assessment of your past and all the dark cards you think you’ve been dealt, you’re cynical about what lies ahead. Fatalism clouds your vision. There’s no harmony in your perspective, only dread.

I invite you to think in another way. No matter how difficult your past has been, you survived. You grew stronger and hopefully a bit wiser from your experience. Let that realization help you believe that your future, no matter what happens, will work to enrich your life.

Recently, in one of my Twelve Step meetings, I heard a poignant story. A woman chronicled her descent into addiction and alcoholism, her version of a downward spiral that, in one form or another, was common to all of us. When she had lost everything—her children, her job, and most of her health—her family had her committed to a psychiatric institution. She remembered sitting in the back seat of her brother’s car, looking out at the foreboding building through her window, overcome by despair.

Fast forward ten years. The woman embraced the treatment offered to her like a floating mast after a shipwreck. She began to trust others. She began to treat herself with love and grace. She resurrected her lifelong dream of returning to school and pursuing a career in nursing. On a proud day, she received her diploma. Then, after graduation, she worked for a temp company that provided skilled care to a number of hospitals in her hometown.

This brought her, once again, to the parking lot of the very place she had received treatment. She looked out at the buildings that had inspired such dread, now seeing them from a vastly different perspective. She tried to describe something she said was indescribable—the feeling of her new life, a person with purpose, remembering the shell of herself that had been on death’s doorstep that day her brother delivered her. She began to cry, struggling for words, but to each of us who were listening, she couldn’t have been more eloquent. Our tears flowed with hers. Her story was a living parable, a shining example of one of the promises in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous: We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

If you wince at the word God, think of it another way. The Universe has your back. You are not destined for disaster. There is love, grace, and fulfillment in your future, so joyfully anticipate it.

Inspirational writer, Alan Cohen, sums up some of the thoughts in this chapter in his book A Course in Miracles Made Easy: Mastering the Journey from Fear to Love.

The future you expect is a projection of your beliefs about the past…When you change your thoughts about the past, you change your thoughts about the future, and thus you create a better future…If you regard yourself and life through the lens of fear, guilt, and mistrust, you will expect a morbid future. If you regard yourself and life through the lens of love, innocence, and faith, you will expect a bright future.

Practice

Take time today to practice the suggestions in this chapter. Sit for some moments and be grateful for the physical form you’ve been given, the family that birthed you into this world, and every single struggle that has taught you lessons of strength and maturity. Bring this appreciation into the present. Then anticipate that every day from here on forward—no matter what you may face—the Presence upholding you will ultimately guide you, teach you, and bring you peace.

Here are some affirmations you can speak out loud.

  1. I celebrate my physical body exactly as it is, knowing I am created as a one-of-a-kind miracle.
  2. Despite any pain from my past, I choose to affirm the family and ancestral roots that gave birth to my unique existence. I seek to forgive any ills done to me, no matter how difficult they may be.
  3. I affirm that every trial I survived has imparted knowledge and power that I can use to live more fully.
  4. I anticipate the future with joy, knowing that I can never be separated from the loving Presence that surrounds me and upholds me.

            As you fuse these aspects of appreciation and joyful anticipation into this present moment, remember this:

Heaven is here. There is nowhere else.
Heaven is now. There is no other time.

Part Three will post on June 11

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Are You Choosing Fear?

Every day the headlines scream. Tariffs, deportations, inflation, layoffs, violence in Europe and the Middle East, political infighting! It’s a litany of doom and conflict, and it’s no wonder that for many people, these are fearful times.

Or maybe your unease is closer to home. A pending medical test. A legal entanglement. A relationship falling apart. Insecurity over your employment and financial status.

Here’s a question that should be central to each of our lives. As challenges arise, both near and far, how do we stay sane?

There’s a profound truth grasped by people from many walks of life, forged in their own crucibles. If their words seem repetitious, let them offset the repeated negativity that barrages us daily.

You hold the key to love and fear
All in your trembling hand
Just one key unlocks them both
It’s there at your command
 – Chester Powers (from lyrics of the Youngbloods song, Get Together

May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears. — Nelson Mandela

If you want to tap into what life has to offer, let love be your primary mode of being, not fear. Fear closes us down and makes us retreat. It locks doors and limits opportunities. Love is about opening to possibilities. Seeing the world with new eyes. It widens our heart and mind. Fear incarcerates, but love liberates. — John Mark Green

There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. – John Lennon

Fear is the darkroom where negatives are developed. – Zig Ziglar

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. – I John 4:18b

I’m sure you’ll agree. Fear is toxic to our souls, an acid wash on our brains, a slayer of peace and relationships. So how do we learn to gradually banish it from our lives?

Start like this. Look back over the past century and see how many times we have faced uncertainty as a nation. Similarly, in the arc of your personal life, think of the trials you’ve survived, all the turbulent rivers you crossed to stand where you are today.

Does the universe have your back? Is there a force looking out for you? Is there a higher power, a god that is protecting you in ways you can only imagine? You will answer these questions for yourself, but for what it’s worth, let me share a glimpse into my recent struggles.

In the past year, our family has weathered three deaths, two cancer diagnoses, the failing mental capacity of parents, and legal challenges that are still pending. It’s hard for me. I’ve always found it difficult to let go. I’m energetic and I can efficiently tackle any problem, so when events are out of my control, I too often let stress—then fear—invade my spirit.

When this happens, there’s a coping mechanism I use. I recall the darkest hours of my life, those times when my alcoholism led me to contemplate suicide. I think of the path my wife and I have trodden with our intellectually disabled son—the grief at his original diagnosis, then all the effort to secure the services he needs. I remember all the financial rollercoasters we’ve survived.

Yet here I am at this moment. Alive. Housed, fed, supported by the love of my family and friends. Able to pursue my advocations of writing and visual art. In touch with that Force that lives and breathes through all of us—call it what you will—and recognizing that it wants only my wholeness and freedom. Thank you, Spirit, God, Higher Power, Tao. Thank you, Mystery!

As this gratitude infuses my life, I’m determined to decrease the lag time. I don’t want to look back weeks, months, or years from now and realize that I came through this season as a more mature human being. I want to claim RIGHT NOW the truth that this too shall pass. That I am OK and will be OK. That I will evolve and grasp more of the meaning for which I was created.

Whatever you’re going through, my friends, I truly empathize. My prayer is that you won’t deepen your malaise by choosing fear rather than love. So, I close with these words from Lisa Nichols.

“When you can’t control what’s happening, challenge yourself to control the way you respond to what’s happening. That’s where your power lies.”

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Protestin’ in the Wind

Spittin’ in the wind, pissin’ in the wind, protestin’ in the wind. Call it what you want, but that’s what it felt like on a recent Sunday.

I was visiting the care facility where my parents live in Las Vegas, so I decided to join them at their church, hitching a ride in the medical transport van. I don’t adhere to a religion, so it’s hard to sit through any worship service. But this conservative Lutheran version was especially dissonant, like a cheese grater across my brain. Every element of the liturgy made me wince.

  • Hymns that spoke of Jesus coming again in clouds of glory to gather only “the faithful.”
  • Multiple promises of being in heaven rather than working to bring justice on earth.
  • A unison confession of sin that magnified our abject condition apart from Jesus’s saving grace.
  • The Apostle’s Creed, that patriarchal relic with its Trinitarian formula and insistence on superstitious miracles.

What tweaked me the most, however, was the sermon. I had foolishly hoped that the pastor might be hip, since I noticed the motorcycle boots he wore under his alb. It was clearly part of his drip. When I asked, “you ride?” he responded, “yep, it’s the only time I feel free.”

Then came his homily. Its central illustration came from a memorial service he’d attended for a teen who died of a drug overdose. There were two preachers that day. One railed about how the girl didn’t “know Jesus,” and that everyone in attendance should be forewarned about their own salvation. The other preacher was more magnanimous. He revealed a private conversation in which he discovered that the girl had indeed “accepted the Lord.”

That assurance rankled me even more!

I know I should have restrained myself. I chose to be there, live and let live, avoid the landmines of religion and politics. Yeah, yeah. But if there’s anything remaining from my former religious leanings, it’s that I’m a protestant, emphasis on protest.

I approached the pastor after the service.

“Do you mind if I share a reaction to your message?”

“Not at all,” he replied.

I calmed my voice. “Your own scripture says that God is love. God loved this girl before she was born, during every painful hour of her addiction, and even now in whatever awaits us after death. That’s true whether or not she followed your religious formula. Do you really believe that if she hadn’t accepted Jesus, she would be banished into darkness?”

His expression changed. His smile grew tighter. His eyes narrowed.

“Yes, God is love. And God gives us free will to either accept or reject the promises of Jesus.”

It was a standard feint, not a real answer, so I continued.

“On the cross, Jesus said ‘it is finished.’ That applies to all of humanity. It’s a love so inclusive that no human mind can fully understand it.”

His smile slipped further, frown lines forming on his brow.

“You must be a universalist,” he said.

And there it was. Spittin’ in the wind, pissin’ in the wind, protestin’ in the wind. Nothing I said would change his world view; nothing he said would alter mine. In this polarized world—with our moats of doctrine, politics, and privilege—hasn’t this become the norm?

When Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde recently exhorted Donald Trump to have mercy and understand the apprehension felt by many Americans, my friends and I applauded her bravery. Face to face, speaking truth to power. Social media blew up with her image, her words, and profile pics that proclaimed, “I’m with her.”

But Trump and his allies, encamped on el otro lado del rio, were unmoved. They demanded an apology, accusing Budde of being woke, radical left, and mannish.

Spittin’ in the wind, pissin’ in the wind, protestin’ in the wind. It’s the norm, and the fact that our online news streams are shaped by predatory AI only makes the problem worse. As Paul Simon said in The Boxer, “A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.”

(Flashback. On May 4, 1970, Allison Krause, a student at Kent State University, was one of four unarmed students shot and killed by soldiers of the Ohio Army National Guard. The shootings occurred as students protested against both the invasion of Cambodia and the National Guard presence on their campus. The day before her death, Krause observed a single lilac within the barrel of a guardsman’s gun. An officer ordered the soldier to remove it, and Krause caught the flower as it fell to the ground, stating, “Flowers are better than bullets.” This quote—inscribed on her gravestone—has become synonymous with her legacy of peace activism.)

Return to the present. The US continues to arm countries around the world, especially Israel as it carried out its genocide against the Palestinians. And Donald Trump threatens troop deployment to quell domestic demonstrations.

Can you hear the wind whistling, loud and clear?

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

An Experience That Shaped His Entire Life

Every family has stories told so often that they’re part of our collective legacy. When older relatives do the retelling, we might roll our eyes. Not this one again…

In my family, there are many. The time my mother caught a 95-pound Nile perch at Lake Victoria. My father setting a senior track record for the mile in his early 40s. My brother catching trout in the Sierra Nevada on a scouting trip, using only a stick, some line, and a bare hook. The time I defied my parents’ warnings and snuck into a screening of Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange while it still had an X rating.

But there’s no tale as powerful and poignant as the one told by my father about an incident in his childhood. Even now—at age 95—that moment can emerge from his dementia and stir the waters of his memory. In 2019, he preserved the episode as a letter to my brothers and me, claiming he recalled it on a daily basis throughout his life.

Here’s the outline.

It was the summer of 1935, midway through the Great Depression, and Dad was five years old. On a bucolic day in the countryside, he was with his mother at the Wisconsin farm of some relatives. While she attended a quilting party, Dad went to a swimming hole with his cousin, Sally. Not unlike Dad, he boasted to her that he had just learned to swim. To prove it, he would take a raft to the middle of the pond, which was about 11 feet deep. Then he would let go and paddle back to her, putting his cockiness to the test. I’ll let him tell you what happened next.

“When I reached a spot close to the bank, I gave the raft a shove. However, I was so tired getting it to this spot, and the raft was now moving away from me so that I could not swim to it. As I began to sink underwater, I said a prayer to God: ‘Please do not let my parents blame themselves for my drowning. It was all my fault!’ As I sank, I made one last attempt to breath, but all I got was a mouthful of water. As I passed out, I was floating with white light all around me. This went on for quite some time until I sensed that someone was placing their hands on my hips and lifting me up, setting me in shallower water. When I opened my mouth, water flowed out. I began to breathe but I was blind. Then I heard Sally shouting at me, ‘Why were you down so long? What happened?’”

I won’t idealize my father. Like all of us, he had his faults, especially his workaholism that kept him from spending more quality time with us. That addiction left a vortex at the center of our family.

But in this story—what Dad always called a miracle—I see some of the core beliefs that informed the arc of his life, truly a Horatio Alger story, rising from poverty to the upper echelons of corporate America. If you are agnostic or atheistic like some of my friends, suspend your judgment for a moment and just encounter this human being I call my father.

  • Notice that he didn’t ask God to save him for his own benefit. His petition was to spare his parents from blaming themselves that he had drowned. This sense of other-centeredness and duty was a hallmark of his character. One of six boys, he was the only one that cared for his parents in their final years, providing for them physically and financially. He showed that same kind of devotion to our nuclear family.
  • He saw his near-drowning as the proverbial second chance in life. God had rescued him for a purpose, and he wanted to honor God for that reprieve.
  • After that day, he says he sought God’s guidance at key junctures in life, especially before critical decisions. Though he and I have faith perspectives that are widely divergent, I resonate with the need to find direction from a power greater than myself.

Do you have a childhood memory that lays hold to your mind and heart? Does it still act as a lodestar for your life’s journey? If so, have you shared it with others?

Here are the final words of Dad’s recollection as he transcribed it in 2019.

“When my sight came back, I walked up to the house where mother was attending the quilting party. As she saw me coming in the door, she came to me and said, ‘What has happened to you?’ (There must have been something about my face that she would ask that question). I said, ‘Mom, I just want to take a nap.’

“I kept this miracle to myself for many decades because I didn’t want my parents to worry about me. I told my mother only after she was older.

“Love and prayers to all three of you, Dad.”

by Tags: , , , , Leave a comment

Three Verses, Eternal Light

Whether it’s verses from your religious tradition, or memes from public figures, proof texting is precarious. We all see it: social media flooded with words out of context, warped by prejudice and politics.

Still, there are times when ancient wisdom jibes EXACTLY with both its origin and the present moment, shedding eternal light. Here’s a case in point, but first some background.

My parents grew up during the Great Depression with clear scripts for their futures. Get married, settle down, work hard, have kids. They labored tirelessly, my father as a financial wizard, my mother as a capable homemaker. Eventually, Dad became CFO of a large, publicly traded company, quite a feat for a boy raised on a Wisconsin farm.

In their later years, my parents built two trophy homes, filling them with expensive decorations. My mother had become a part-time antique dealer, purchasing items she claimed she would resell. Instead, she hoarded them. They seemed to multiply like ferrets on fertility drugs. The garages, closets, and drawers were jammed with acquisitions, and every room was decorated to the point of clutter. Mom was no fan of feng shui.

When they finally sold one of those homes, I helped clear a two story “carriage house,” watching as local nonprofits carted away truckloads of items for two days.

Fast forward to now. Mom and Dad currently live together in a group home for the elderly in Las Vegas, Nevada. It was a tough transition, but they seem content to be with each other as they approach their 74th anniversary. That’s right, 74 years!

I’ve taken many trips to visit them, handle their affairs, and monitor their care. This included the task of tending to their empty home, something that became so impractical that my brother and I convinced them to put the house on the market.

Which brings me to those promised verses.

One afternoon, I took our 33-year-old realtor to visit my parents and get the papers signed. He’s a Filipino guy with amazing energy, a great knowledge of the market, and a flair with technology. He also dresses like a fashion plate, drives an expensive car, and participates in the World Series of Poker. He embodies much of the glitz of Vegas culture. All that said, he’s very personable, and I like him immensely.

As we sat around a small table, the finality of the decision weighed on Mom’s countenance. Dad was also nodding, but with more resignation

“It’s the end of an era,” Mom said with a sigh. “Tell me again what you plan to do with all my collections.”

We’d gone over this numerous times, a sign of her failing memory.

“We will disperse the items you earmarked for family members,” I said gently and patiently. “Then we’ll have an estate sale when the home goes into escrow. The items that remain will be moved to a consignment store.”

She nodded and sighed again. “So many things, so many memories…”

At the center of the table was a Bible my parents use for their morning devotions. I opened it and turned to Matthew 5:19-21 – words of Jesus collected in what we call the Sermon on the Mount. I noticed the realtor listening intently.

“I know it’s hard,” I said, “but you and Dad have had more years to enjoy your accomplishments than the average person. And because your faith is so important to you, listen to these words.”

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

I put down the Bible and looked at all three of them.

“When he said heaven, Jesus didn’t just mean some reality after death. He meant our quality of life on earth. Part of this is to treasure the love we have for each other. Think of what a blessing you both have, Mom and Dad. You’re still together after 74 years! You can still treasure each other in whatever time you have left.”

They were both nodding. Then they took each other’s hands and leaned in for a long kiss. In my mind’s eye, I saw their wedding picture, their young faces beaming with hope for their future.

Listen. I don’t care if you’ve never darkened the door of a church or read a single word of scripture from any religious source. Surely you see the wisdom of what Jesus said 2,000 years ago. Surely you know that material possessions and the weight of caring for them can warp our values and waste our precious time. All our stuff will end up in the landfill of time. Guaranteed.

Instead, we can revel in the unencumbered joy of the present moment. We can relish the give and take of affection with our loved ones. We can stand in awe under the Milky Way, or breathe the freshness of an ocean breeze, soaking in the free of gift of nature’s beauty. We can enjoy this Presence we often call God as it uplifts and energizes us.

When we left the house that day, the realtor turned to me.

“Watching your parents and hearing those words made it so clear,” he said. “I only have my mother and grandmother nearby, but I’m going to go visit both of them this afternoon. Thank you!”

He spontaneously reached over and gave me a hug.

Then he walked away in his expensive suit, got into his pricey Tesla, and drove off. I could see the opulent skyline of Las Vegas casinos in the distance, those kitschy monuments to over-consumption.

I smiled and nodded. We’ll see, I thought. We’ll see…

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

Should You Take It Personally?

It was one of those conversations with a friend that I crave—wide-ranging, both intimate and global, drawing on our interests in literature, history, and current events. During the course of it, a philosophical question arose: “Should we take things personally?”

You may have an immediate answer but stay with the question for a moment.

In his popular book, The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, Don Miguel Ruiz talks about the “domestication of humans.” From the moment we are born, he says, “outside” information is transferred to us internally, creating the “agreements” we make about ourselves and our place in the world. This transfusion comes through tribes, families, schools, and religions.

Given this maze of conflicting and often capricious viewpoints, Ruiz proposes the second of his four agreements. Don’t take anything personally. “Whatever you think,” he says, “and whatever you feel, I know is your problem and not my problem. It is the way you see the world. It is nothing personal, because you are dealing with yourself, not with me. Others are going to have their own opinion according to their belief system, so nothing they think about me is really about me, but it is about them.”

OK. There’s some truth here. How many of us have allowed our self-worth to be dragged through the muck of other people’s judgments? How many of us have allowed them to lease space in our heads, squandering our precious time and our unique destinies?

Wayne Dyer, a thinker I admired, steadfastly refused to take a side in conflicts, believing that the very act of aligning ourselves fuels the power of dualistic madness tearing our planet apart. He called us to stay centered in a place of unity and compassion for all of creation, including every single person who disagrees with us, even our enemies

Again, great value here. Many an enlightened spiritual teacher—among them the Buddha, Jesus, and Baháʼu’lláh—walked this higher plain in their teachings and actions.

But let’s go back to that conversation with my friend. Why? Because, to refute Ruiz, the decisions that people make, especially those in power, go far beyond just dealing with themselves. They affect all of us!

In our dialogue that morning, my friend and I turned to the current political scene, especially the rise of Christian Nationalism, that cult that misappropriates the teachings of Jesus and cloaks itself in American Exceptionalism. We lamented the erosion of a woman’s reproductive rights, the backlash against the LGBTQ population, the disregard for global warming, the demonization of immigrants and protestors, the undermining of public healthcare and education, and the threats leveled at social security.

Should we take this personally? Hell yes! Even if it causes some anger and angst? Hell yes! Read, really read, the background and content of Project 2025, a list of legislative and policy proposals that is ready to roll if Trump gets reelected.

Should we take the defeat of this agenda personally? Absolutely!

My friend is Jewish, and he recalled a famous poem by Martin Niemöller, a German theologian and Lutheran pastor during the rise of Nazism. It exists in many versions, but the one featured on the United States Holocaust Memorial reads: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.” For his opposition to the Nazis’ state control of churches, Niemöller was imprisoned in the Sachsenhausen and Dachau concentration camps from 1938 to 1945. He narrowly escaped execution.

It reminded me of words from Martin Luther King, Jr. that have informed my activism for decades. “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

Within the wider circle of my Christian friends, there’s a lot of talk about respecting the voices of those who disagree with us. Instead of red or blue, they champion the color purple. Listen; I agree that we need to reach across the boundaries of our differences. As Jesus so powerfully said, “If you love only those who love you, what good is that? Even scoundrels do that much. If you are friendly only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else?” (Matthew 5:46-17a, Living Bible Translation). Can we champion the causes of justice nonviolently, opposing those who would erode our freedoms without disrespecting them? Harder, much harder, but yes!

However, if our efforts to be conciliatory cause us to muzzle ourselves and cease speaking truth to power, I object! If they lead us to accommodate the principles outlined in White Nationalist movements like Project 2025, I object!

I wholeheartedly support Kamala Harris as our next President of the United States. When I scroll through the many memes circulating around her candidacy, I love the one that says, “Rosa sat, so Ruby could walk, so Kamala could run.”

Did Rosa Parks take it personally when she was ordered to sit in the back of Montgomery, Alabama buses? Certainly! Did those who fought for school desegregation take it personally? Of course!

Parks once commented, “People have said over the years that the reason I did not give up my seat was because I was tired. I did not think of being physically tired. My feet were not hurting. I was tired in a different way. I was tired of seeing so many men treated as boys and not called by their proper names or titles. I was tired of seeing children and women mistreated and disrespected because of the color of their skin. I was tired of Jim Crow laws, of legally enforced racial segregation.”

Today, I am personally saying that I am sick and tired of Christian Nationalism and its idolatry. It’s not only an aberration; it’s a dangerous mutation. I will do everything in my sphere of influence to defeat those forces that seek to form a theocratic government in America.

And if you have made it to the end of this piece, I hope that you, too, will take this election and its repercussions PERSONALLY!

Rosa sat, so Ruby could walk, so Kamala could run!

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Bodhisattva of the Earth

(I met Joedy Yglesias while training to become a Texas Master Naturalist. He calls himself a Bodhisattva of the Earth, someone whose compassion extends to every living creature. It is his calling. Here he recounts the journey of how he came to this place in his life, an excerpt from my book The Smile on a Dog: Retrieving a Faith That Matters, downloadable for free at this link.)

My parents raised me as Catholic during the ’70s and ’80s, a time when Chicano Americans were having an existential identity crisis. For those of us on the left, it meant consolidating our power, supporting La Raza or the United Farm Workers. For conservatives, it meant identifying more with their Spanish colonial roots and ignoring the indigenous aspect. The Catholic church and the government had always done a good job of separating us from those roots, which led to internalized racism. For my own parents, who wanted to make things easier for their children, it meant giving their children English names. This was part of the American Dream as they saw it.

 I was quite involved in our local parish church. I taught catechism and sang in the choir, all the while trying to deal with my gay identity. I eventually thought I might join the priesthood as a way of circumventing that issue, essentially shutting it down.

Then, one day while visiting Austin, Texas, I saw a poster advertising a group called Shaman’s Circle, hosted by gay activist Toby Johnson. Toby had an earlier association with Joseph Campbell, having spent time with him in northern California. He had been a Roman Catholic priest but gave up his ordination and dedicated his life to focusing on gay spirituality. Like Campbell, Toby understood religion as myth and metaphor, and he introduced me to a much wider awareness of my spiritual journey.

I attended their shaman drumming circles and discovered that it was all white men. I approached them with the idea that even though I couldn’t afford their retreats, I could join them as a worker and bring a different ethnic perspective to their group. It was a great experience! Toby took me under his wing like a spiritual father, teaching me some of the primary truths from Campbell, like the journey of “the hero with a thousand faces.”

I came to understand how important my indigenous heritage was to me. I discovered that many of my relatives had practiced indigenous rituals in the past, but they hid it because the culture considered it pagan. The more I delved into it, the more I developed my own unique spirituality as someone who is half Native American.

Toby convinced me that the priesthood wasn’t right for me, so I joined the Navy. I loved the adventure. I saw it as a challenge to participate in the military from the inside, showing how the LGBTQ community could bring honor to the institution. I was still practicing my Catholic faith, operating as the lay leader on ships, but after I returned to America from one deployment, I saw a Unitarian Church flying the rainbow flag. I visited their fellowship, and it blew my mind how they welcomed the spiritual writings and traditions of so many faiths. I began to attend there on a regular basis.

After a final deployment to Iraq, I returned to live in San Antonio, Texas, suffering from PTSD. To get my head clear, I began to visit a number of Texas State Parks—camping, volunteering, and eventually receiving my certification as a Texas Master Naturalist.

I believe that the universe opens up to us at just the right time. While touring Seminole Canyon State Park, I saw, for the first time, the ancient pictographs for which the park is famous. When I looked at them, I instantly had a connection. I intuitively understood what they were really communicating, an awareness that amazed our “expert” tour guide.

As I spent more time outdoors, everything seemed to fall into place. Even the snakes, tarantulas, and vinegaroons emerged when I was there. I felt a deep connection and kinship with my indigenous roots, especially in the Trans-Pecos desert region of southwest Texas. I knew I was home. Our natural resources are under attack through neglect and development, and although I know I can’t fully stop it, my presence can help preserve the spiritual magic of nature for others. My ancestors call me here, and every time I go into the canyons, I sing a prayer song of the Lakota Sioux to let the spirits know I am present.

Tunkasila wamayanka yo
Le miye ca tehiya nawajin welo
Unci Maka nawecijin na
Wowah’wala wan yuha wauwelo.

Grandfather look at me
This is me standing in a hard way
I defend Grandmother Earth
and I come humbly with these ways

by Tags: , , , , Leave a comment