Do you consider yourself a spiritual person?

I always have. Since I was a little girl. Well before I really understood “religion,” I just had a feeling there was something unexplainable, something covering the world that was neither manipulative or parental. It was just a belief that there was something that extended before what I knew as the “beginning,” and something that never knew an end.

It’s interesting that people “work” on their spirituality. Like how they work out or something at a gym, or get their heart pumping for training, or sweat to burn calories. Spirituality is a relationship between self and the Unknown, something that demands time, thought, consideration. It requires exercise, yes, but not the kind that we associate with “work” or “working out.” So often, in any self/relationship improvement, we consort to books and advice and media to tell how how to do it, how to survive it, “how to” everything. The “how to” literature section has exponentially grown in the past few decades. Rarely do we truly trust our own intuitive selves, the tools already inside of us. We seek EXTERNAL for what we know is internal.

So why is the relationship with spirituality difficult to sustain? Because its ambiguous and directionless nature taps into our quivering questions that leave us anxious? Or is it because it asks us to be brave soldiers and live deeper lives? If spirituality is an engaging relationship between our very own Selves and this constantly accessible, ubiquitous and nameless THING, why is it so hard to engage, to believe?

I looked out the window and saw a violet bird. A violet bird. I’ve never seen a violet bird, but there it sad, about 4 feet from my window and it brought me a feeling of unexpected realization that I am not alone. My partner is gone for the day. My phone is quiet. No emails or messages to return. And discounting the wondrous being growing inside me who cannot yet verbalize his presence, I felt like I was going to be very alone today, trapped into a day of little to no interaction and conversation.

And then the violet bird appeared. This flash of beauty that, with one glance, reminded me that there are living things, breathing and carrying on, all around me. The world is taking one giant breath with me today and I am far from alone. I remember as a little girl how I used to exist in that knowledge. As I’ve lived more years, acquired more physical and tangible relationships with others, somehow that knowledge dissipated.

Spirituality came to be a connection to others instead of self to Unknown, self to Trust. It morphed into how stimulating a thought was, how connected I felt to another, how accepted I was to a community. These are all important, beautiful things, but…

I forgot how simple glances at the world around us, alone, in the depth of our own consciousness gives way, gives space to something other than ourselves, even our choice of company.

How often do we make room for that to happen? How open do you think you really are to gift of fleeting peace and contentment without trying to make it last?