A Detour on My Spiritual Journey

If you've read R17 for any amount of time you are quite familiar with my less-than-friendly relationship with god. I don't even capitalize the word anymore. Nor do I employ the ancient spelling of his/her name as G-d, because someone once determined that writing the full name would be a dishonor. Especially if it were on paper and then the paper ended up in the trash. 

I can't imagine the Lord of the Lords, the Most Magnificent Host of Hosts, ruler of galaxies and universes that stretch beyond our imagination, could be upset with such a minor infraction. But what do I know, this is the same god that says I can't eat cheeseburgers or flush a toilet on Saturday.

Despite my denial and naysaying I do find myself on a spiritual journey. 

One that never began, nor ever ended.

A few years ago I started reading A Pilgrimage to Eternity. A book by Tim Egan that documented his walk along the Via Francigena, a 3200km trek from Canterbury, England to Vatican City, Italy. I loved the idea of a massive hike in order to nurture some spiritual curiosity. But the book was slow, like the walk. And I dog-earred the book before the author even stepped foot in France.

At the suggestion of my friend Jim, who graciously jumped on a plane to spend a week with my grieving family and slept on a blow up mattress in my living room, I have been reading The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell, who is interviewed by Bill Moyers, the well-known  journalist who happened to give my college graduation speech, way back in 1980. 

That's right 1980.

After detailing the Abrahamic origin story of Adam and Eve, he goes on to note the similarities to the legend of Aristaphanes who says, in the beginning there were creatures of three sorts: male/female, male/male and female/female. The gods split them all in two. After the split each creature started embracing each other in order to reconstitute their full being. This is why we spend our lives trying to find and re-embrace our other half.

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I've also been reading The Book of Joy, an interview with the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. These are two commanding men who opened my eyes to many unheard philosophies of the Far East and of Africa. 

I particularly enjoyed their discussion on the importance of laughter and how it is often the most meaning connection between two human beings.

And since, January I have been in Zoom grief therapy with a chaplain from UCLA, an incredibly genteel man who has helped many people with their difficulties (trust me when I say the grieving process presents many). 

He is of the Universal Unitarian denomination, which leans less on divinity and more on humanity.

Who knows I might even attend a service at a Unitarian church?

You may be asking, why would a hardboiled atheist like myself put all this energy in the hunt for spiritual nourishment? I suspect trauma has that effect on people. The truth is I'm not trying to find god. 

I'm desperately trying to find a way to live my life without my Debbie.