An Expression of Spirituality

I have been wondering about spirituality and whether having a spiritual life—the way one might have a social life or a love life—would be helpful in learning to live optimally.

There are, according to a pair of experts, more a thousand “spiritual practices,” any one of which might put me on the path to realization of my own spirituality and accomplishment of a spiritual life, but what is spirituality?

The George Washington Institute for Spirituality & Health describes spirituality as: “the dimension of a person that seeks to find meaning in his or her life.”

The Center for Spirituality & Healing at the University of Minnesota describes spirituality as “a sense of connection to something bigger than ourselves.” Spirituality “involves a search for meaning in life.”

Although spirituality may be broadly defined as a search for meaning, its expression—what it means to be spiritual—is both personal and transitory. “Like your sense of purpose, your personal definition of spirituality may change throughout your life, adapting to your own experiences and relationships.”

Your personal expression of spirituality may emerge through the embrace of a religious community or through a meditative sense of connection with a higher power. You may perceive spiritual meaning in art or nature. These categories of experience are not mutually exclusive.

In an essay, A Problem with Spirituality, Tim Boyd, president of the Theosophical Society in America, tells us that the “basis of spirituality” is unity: “all move­ment in the direction of a deeper experience of one­ness can be called spiritual.” Boyd defines spirituality as “not merely a balm for the individual soul or a feeling of peace and harmony.” Spirituality “exceeds the individual.” Our role, he says, is to nurture and provide the conditions for the seeds of compassion, kindness and responsibility to grow and “ultimately yield the fruits of the spiritual life.”

Maybe this simply means that compassion, kindness and responsibility are expressions of spirituality. Nurturing these qualities in our daily life may “yield the fruits” of spirituality: connection to “something bigger,” unity and meaning.

Boyd observed that it has become common for people to say “I am spiritual, but not religious,” but the problem is that the meaning of the word “spiritual” is often unclear.  The Center for Spirituality & Healing notes, however, that spirituality is a broader concept than religion: “Religion and spirituality are not the same thing, nor are they entirely distinct from one another.”

Psychology Today reported a study by British researchers finding “that people who consider themselves spiritual but not religious are more likely to have a mental disorder compared to conventionally religious people and to those who are neither religious nor spiritual.”

I am not “conventionally religious,” whatever that means, and, if the British study is to be believed, I should avoid having a spiritual life at all for the sake of my mental well-being. Fortunately though, I am not British.

It seems quite possible to me to have a non-religious spirituality. Religion, I think, is a form of expression. Many people find religion to be nurturing and comforting, but the tribalism of religion makes me uncomfortable and I am not drawn to it. If an expression of spirituality is vital to an optimal life, then I must find my own form, an expression that feels genuine and gives me sustenance and at the same time, an expression that connects me to something larger than myself.

I have not found that expression. Maybe I never will, and maybe, for me, that is the point. Like optimal living, spirituality for me is a fluid process, not an accomplishment. It is a spirituality not freighted with solemnity. It is the motivation behind appreciation, generosity and finding humor in life. My expression of spirituality must in some way acknowledge my pursuit of awesomeness, my capacity for enjoyment and my thirst for wonder and adventure.

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En un País Extraño: Dos

No hubo volviendo atrás desde nuestro exilio. Mi vida continuaba. Aunque viviendo pareció opcional, la alternativa fue complicada tanto como fue inevitable. ¿Viví para evitar la complicación de muriendo?

Había más que eso, yo pensé. Por supuesto había.

¿Pero qué  lo estaba? ¿Por qué continuar? Pues, porque hubo belleza. Por lo menos hubo belleza, y la cosa maravillosa fue que belleza fue sin limite. No hubo una cantidad finita de ella en el mundo, o en la vida. Fue imposible ver toda la belleza que hubo. Fue imposible sentir toda la belleza que yo no podía ver. Y desde algún manantial de creatividad, belleza era siempre siendo creado.

Mi habilidad para percibir belleza siempre estaría amenazado por dolor, pena y aflicción. Estaría amenazado también por ira. Tan largo como belleza por sí sola — o mi voluntad de percibirla — derrotado dolor y sus afines espíritus — pena, aflicción, ira — habría un razón para mí, una respuesta a la pregunta “¿por qué?”

Podía haber habido otras respuestas, pero yo no podría decir, a ese momento, lo que fueron. Fue bastante, a ese momento en mi exilio, haber la sentia que belleza ganaría la batalla con dolor.

¿Fui simplemente un espectador entonces? Lamenté que no fui un músico o un artista que estaba contribuyendo en la creación y expresión de belleza. ¿Descubriría yo mi participación? Explorando mi propia habilidad para crear belleza—esto pareció ser una causa noble, un honrado propósito, aún.

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