I used to live within the box of religion, but it leaked. My questions and doubts burned holes in those walls, and I spilled forth. My spirituality pooled in an ocean, a deep frontier alive with currents and tides, and I fished some tools from these waters that help me seek the divine.
The dog is my meditation cushion
Happy noise and busy chaos chase quiet moments from my house – even the bathroom is no “restroom” with three children in my care. Walking the dog is my get out of the house guilt free card. Leash in hand, I don my coat and shrug the day from my shoulders. Bounding ahead, the dog sniffs the ground hound-style with all her energy. I walk briskly behind, my mind churning through all the mental debris caught in the creases of the day. After some time, the dusty, swirling cloud rises above me. I tune into the crunch-crunch of my footfalls and the circular motion of my breath. I meet my inner hush. I am.
Yoga is my prayer shawl.
In the daily grind, tasks and plans yoke my mind to a spinning wheel. I see the ground in front of me and nothing more. I forget to lift my eyes heavenward; I forget to see the divine within everything. When I have time to practice yoga, the movements usher my mind into a sacred space of stillness. I find this breath, releasing thoughts of the past and future. Lightened, I can lift my heart, my soul, my entire Self towards God. I give thanks.
My children are my holy book.
Each day is a page upon which interactions with my children write their lessons. Tantrums train patience and compassion. Watchful eyes and ears instruct my own self respect. Night wakings reinforce selflessness. Easy smiles find happiness in simple things. Exuberant energy and uncapped silliness advise me in the art of lightening up. Bottomless needs, often met so simply, elucidate a love unbounded by conditions. My children are my daily devotions.
My husband is my faith community.
Loneliness darkens the world; solidarity kindles light. On any truth-seeking journey, we step more steadily on a path illuminated by love. My husband is my community of hope, my candle of reason. He advises without judgment, helps without preconditions, forgives without hesitation, loves without boundaries. And although he probably wouldn’t give it any kind of name, the divine lights him from within. His light strengthens mine.
So while my spirituality can’t be held by any shape right now, it grows. And I believe God loves a messy, leaky faith, too. So long as it’s not watered down.