This evening, I attended an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting as a guest with my friend who is nine years sober and an absolute inspiration. The meeting was in a beautiful church and after the large gathering had opening addresses and readings, three distinct groups separated for the remainder of the evening program.
My friend and I joined the Women’s Group and nearly three dozen of us crowded into the churches conference room that was ideal for no more than 15. It was a hot night and given where we ended up sitting, deep in the room in folding chairs against the wall, I knew I was about to be tested.The windows were also permanently closed and the fan at the top of the conference room in the doorway, even on high did not reach the back corner. I knew I was about to really be tested.
Is this not the Essence of Spiritual Living? To be tested and choose surrender to what is? I did my best to simply be fully present with an open heart and witness what was shared, one person after another. I heard in each story a piece of my own history. I appreciated each individual who was truly unknown to me. I was especially fascinated by the women who were knitting and crocheting all the time the program was facilitated. I chose also to remain silent, anonymous and distinctly felt noticed as a newcomer.
I didn’t feel unwelcome but curiosity (without judgement) was palpable and fascinating to me.
And while AA is not a spiritual organization, I heard time and time again the mention of fellowship, higher power, gratitude, and acceptance. And for 90 minutes I did my best to “Be a Light Unto Myself” in a new group that was entirely foreign to me. Conclusion again: Sacred space is sacred time.
I was reminded again that spirituality comes in every color, shape, size and format. This remains my conclusion after years of being a “visitor” but never becoming a member of organized religion. Okay, so I was baptized Episcopalian but really my mother made that call for me at nine years old. And shortly after being baptized I revolted and wanted to stay home on Sunday. I remember saying with conviction: “I can pray at home. God is here. God is everywhere.” My mother said, “You are going to church whether you like it or not.”
And, I’ve been wrestling with that resistance to being part of a group ever since.
Now, Seattle is an extraordinary place with its full range and diversity of spiritual offerings.
I peacefully co-exist with them all. I even give the Mormon’s a few minutes each time they tap on my door. And recycle their pamphlets in the spirit of being green.
I could say that my “teacher” has not yet arrived, or that the student I am is not yet ready to recognize said teacher. Or perhaps my teacher is me? But I remain curious and embrace having a beginner’s mind.
In truth, I have yet to find a spiritual home and community. No particular community has entirely captured my heart or my time on Sunday or any other day of the week. No particular set of spiritual principles precedes all others. In fact, recently I’d say I am on a long sabbatical from spiritual dating, but may resume the search for the perfect church-mate. Or not.
What I do know is I embrace living a brand of spirituality I created thanks to all the established paradigms in existence long before my distinct self. What I appreciate most is the "source code" for all of the world's religions and spiritual practices.
Spirituality at it's Essence is exquisitely individual for me this season. Making living a spirtual existence as simple as I believe. And I reserve the right to join again a sangha that I hope will accept me as I am, rainbow light that I can be.
