When was the first time you felt Spirit? Did it fill your eyes with tears of joy and your heart with Love?
Growing up in the Episcopal church I often felt this way. This happiness was commonly stimulated from singing certain hymns or reciting The Lord’s Prayer. The reactions were goosebumps crawling up my arms or tears flooding my eyes. In which, I usually felt ashamed of. However, the logical part of my brain would rudely interject these moments of bliss and the skeptic in me questioned, “Why am I singing these psalms?” I was taught early on that everything I needed to know were in the Ten Commandments or The Lord’s Prayer. My biggest problem was with the word: “God” and the fact that I had to attend church every Sunday, wear itchy leggings, take part in the choir (have you ever heard me sing? Let’s just say, I break mirrors in other dimensions). To add a cherry to the top of the whip cream of the church sundae (wow, that was a mouthful), my parents asked me up to be an acolyte! I accepted this position and chose to see the benefits in my role. The best part of being an acolyte was that I was second in line to receive communion –m’mm that yummy, soggy cracker and wine! I just loved how it dissolved on the tip of my tongue. I also felt a sense of pride walking down the aisle with the clergy, lighting and putting out the candles, being able to sit near the altar–I was above everyone. Looking back now, I don’t know how I made it through confirmation classes having never read the Bible from front to back or still had friends after being baptized at the prepubescent age of 11. In fact, I am not certain how I made it through 25 years of life mindlessly at all.
During many years of my youth, sure, I accepted “God”, except that had no meaning to me. Christianity meant being bad equaled going to ‘hell’ and being good meant “the man upstairs” would judge me at the doors of Heaven. Hopefully that judging “God” will see how well I did on Earth and like me enough so I can enter Heaven, the place above us, past the clouds, where all my family and friends will be. That sounded pretty good so I set my intention on being a good person at a young age. I used prayer like the majority of the world does: only when something terrible happened or I wanted my desires to be fulfilled (like having the cute boy in history class like me). I disliked how black and white Christianity was. The “God” I have come to know and love is not a judging one.
I was tossed into religion the same way a Southern green tomato is smothered with batter and tossed into the frying pan. Unfortunately, as a child you have a few defaults and one of them is conforming to your parents belief systems. I hope to give my children the opportunity to present them with all the world religions, all the books that exist and ask, “What do you feel drawn towards? Which stories do you like the most?” Thus allowing them to choose, but to mostly understand that all these books and beliefs are reaching for the same goal, the same “God”.
Ayurveda’s roots are in Hinduism, but it honors all religions because as a whole, we all have the same purpose and are trying to obtain the same entity. We are all just going about it differently. Calling it different names. Creating wars out of what each other call it. It is a personal relationship. That’s religion to me, actually it’s not religion, it’s spirituality. It is a belief in an entity that is formless and nameless. Should I choose to give it a name, I call it, “Spirit”, “the Universe”, “the Divine”, “the force” and/or “Mother” and as of recently my lineage has taken me to calling it “Devi” meaning The Supreme Goddess. However, my studies have taught me that the name we give anything is completely and utterly meaningless.
Nowadays, that little acolyte girl lurks in a 28-year-old body. She still receives those blissful moments from Spirit, the ones that have her bawling on the floor in gratitude of her fortunes. Luckily, she does not have to go far. She does not have to dress up or wear itchy tights on Sundays. She just sits in front of her altar, closes her eyes and slips into the meditation of her heart and there she is humbly connected. Thank God.
HEMASHRI 