Sometimes I get jealous. You see, this never really happens to me. All of the progress I have made in my life has been through a gradual hacking away of the spiritual jungle surrounding me. Sometimes, when my back is turned, those pesky weeds start sprouting up again behind me. Hack. Hack. Whack. Perspiration. Progress. Back slide…ugh. If only I could just pay some guy in funny robes to clonk me on the head and make it all okay.
It wasn’t until one of these friends moved away and I spoke with her much less frequently that I began to notice the less shiny subscript to her tales. Seemingly, each time she gained “new” insight, it was to the same set of problems and in much the same way each time. Listening closely, I heard the same phrase repeated in every circumstance, “What I realized is…” “I suddenly recognized…” followed by the same set of generic new age wisdom that has been recycled thousands of times in many “systems”.
More sad was in recognizing the desperation in her search for inner sustenance. She appears to be convinced that inner peace is something she can buy or that it is something she can have injected into her by some wise individual. She demonstrates no faith in her own ability to find answers from within.
I am immensely curious about different ways to approach spiritual development. I explore the relevance of energetic work and healing and enjoy trying to understand the contributions science is making to our understanding of the infinite. Regardless of the perspective I am considering at any given time though, I keep coming back to the recognition that it is up to me to make sense of it all.
Courses and workshops are great, but only I can integrate what they have to offer into my spiritual schema. I may make three steps forward and two steps back. It may take the rest of my life to go ten steps in all, but at least I know those steps are mine to keep; not on loan from the glow of a single brief inspirational contact.
As in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it seems that by the time we know the answer to the question of the meaning of life, we consistently forget what the question is. Perhaps I’ll share with my friend Douglas Adams’ inspirational mantra: 42, 42, 42. I’ll be interested to see what she does with that.