Sometimes spirituality is found in approaches to life that
are the opposite of what you normally do.
It’s like planting an unknown seed or going to a meadow instead of to
your garden. It’s baking cherry pie
instead of brownies. It’s kneeling to
pray instead of sitting in meditation.
I’m thinking about my normal day. I’m mobility challenged and so my day can
seem quite limited. I normally wake up
before 6 and dial into a growth discussion group which meets everyday at 6
a.m. I get up after that, brush teeth
and wash face. I go downstairs and start
my Keurig coffee pot, let the dog out of her crate, play ball with her until
one of us gets tired of it, feed her and let her outside. While she’s outside, I toast some frozen
waffles, coat them with fruit and yogurt and make my cup of coffee. I let the
dog back in and I sit on the sofa sideways, say “Good morning, God,” and turn
on the news, watching while I eat. To
summarize: I then do a gratitude journal, read something inspiring, and set my daily
intention. Then I try to accomplish my
intention which usually includes some physical activity, at least one phone
call or meeting to assure human interaction, and an activity that requires
going somewhere—to the pharmacy, to the bank, to meet someone for coffee, or
attendance at a support meeting.
That’s a pretty standard day. In that day I experience security and
comfort, order, and some fulfillment. I
don’t experience much of what I would call spirituality. Let’s turn that day upside down. I wake up and don’t dial into an experience
with others; instead, I get in touch with my own feelings which might mean
awareness of loneliness and vulnerability (sigh). Then I get up earlier than usual, have tea
instead of coffee (I leave the dog’s schedule the same since it’s not her
spiritual journey), go for a a savory egg sandwich instead of a sweet waffle
and yogurt, and step outside with my tea and sandwich instead of turning on the
news. It’s really cold so stepping outside means putting on boots, coat and gloves. Already
I’m seeing what could be spiritual opportunities.
Frost on my breath meeting steam from the tea. That’s loaded with potential spiritual stuff for
me. I’m uncomfortably awake. There are giant trees without
leaves. I notice that it’s
winter. There could be snow. The dog will be excited that I’m outside with
her. Nature and animal. That could be a god banquet.
Note: this doesn’t
sound comfortable, safe, or even fun. It
sounds awful. That’s why I don’t
normally do it. I wonder though if
spirituality comes in discomfort more than comfort. What do you think? Roxie
