Contemplating My Spiritual Practice

I can't start this by saying "I think" because the reality is that I know. I have always found beauty and God everywhere regardless of how much my upbringing told me that it was only in certain spaces and that only certain people would earn the divine prize in heaven at the end of it all. 

I know that I am interspiritual or a mystic. That has been hard for me to say. I wish I did not need labels, but I’ve come to realize that the box a label creates often helps me understand myself and others better. And once I understand it, I can work on freeing myself from it, or at least hold it more loosely. One of my first boxes was given to me. I was raised in strict, dogmatic religions, born and raised Catholic until age 13, and then Mormon from 13 to 19. In my 20s, I was agnostic and mostly followed the New Age and New Thought spirituality. I also explored Buddhism and Hinduism, and practiced yoga. By my 30s, I had incorporated African spirituality into that mix, and eventually, I returned to Christianity. (Currently, I have an interest in visiting an Orthodox church and a Hindu temple at some point; I'm drawn by their ancient beauty.)

After returning to Christianity, I spent a couple of years in a non-denominational church, but I left after disagreeing with their decision to dissolve and rebrand; that decision was made without the entire congregation. It felt shallow and unnecessary and seemed to prioritize image and the pastor’s vision over the gospel itself. To me, the gospel is free and not dependent on a bigger building, a new name, or outward expressions of worship. It’s not about branding or passion; it’s about God's vision, not man's. I visited many other churches in my city (before and after this church hurt), but couldn’t find a spiritual home. In my new city, I’ve attended around 15 churches over the past three years. My longest stays have been a couple of months at a Black Baptist church and a couple of months at a Catholic church. 

I registered at a Catholic parish and donated for a couple of months, hoping that this would mark my return to the faith of my childhood and become our family’s spiritual home. The Spanish mass felt familiar and comforting. But I’ve had to convince my family to attend, and when they did, I could sense that they would rather not be there. I often feel sad and lonely sitting in the pews alone, especially because I’ve always dreamed of recreating the kind of Sundays I grew up with: going to church together as a family, with my husband and kids by my side. 

Now, I feel something new and different: that none of this matters ... which is the right church, the best church, the one with the whole truth, whatever it is that my mind keeps pondering causing me to keep searching and searching for the ultimate experience and the ultimate truth.

So many churches feel shallow, hollow, or too tied to a specific culture or lifestyle for me to truly feel like I can take root there. This realization feels heavy today. I feel like I’m grieving the end of my former life and all the ways my current one, while full of blessings, feels stagnant, uninspired, and unfulfilled.

But let me tell you something about myself. I can't sit with a pity party for too long. I have to get up and keep chasing after God. I decided a book would be a good next step in this new spiritual rut. There wasn't anything that spoke to my soul when I searched online, so I decided to head to the bookstore. And the first book that I laid my hands on was Ordinary Mysticism by Mirabai Starr. 

I opened to a random page at the beginning, page 3. I felt like God was speaking to me through her words: "Let me dispel this. Organized religion can, in fact, be an obstacle to direct experience of the sacred. Most religious institutions insist that you purchase their brand of God and forsake all others. Not only do they demand exclusivity, but they require intermediaries for anyone to even hang out with the divine."

This makes way more sense to my soul. I have wanted to root myself in a church because this is what my mom had us do in my childhood and adolescence. But I can't help it. I have felt God is so many sacred spaces, from praying at an altar to Obatalá that I once had in my home when studying Yoruba spirituality to crying at the end of a yoga class because I could sense my ancestors around me to receiving the Eucharist at a beautiful Catholic shrine while wearing a veil. I try and stick to one religion or one denomination, but I just can't. I see God is everything and everyone and especially in all sacred spaces where people are gathered with hearts chasing after God. My truth is that, while I have strong Christian leanings, I am a mystic. My spirituality is mystical and contemplative. I have always been this way and always will be.

I'll end this post how I thought that I would begin, with the Mirabai Starr's journal prompt at the end of her introduction in Ordinary Mysticism. I find the presence of the sacred hidden in ... the Bible and the Dhammapada, Gregorian chants, gospel songs, and nondenominational light rock, praise breaks and raised hands, the rosary and yoga mats, shrines and church buildings, in a flower and a bee, in people.

I feel so free saying all of this. 

My sister-in-law snapped this photo of me in June 2022 after a yoga class we attended together. I had just moved almost 800 miles away from the only city I had ever called home.

It’s been interesting, in living this examined life, to unpack why it has taken me so long to really shake the “you must” and “this is the right way” mindset. I guess it has been cognitive dissonance for me, always teetering between the two, trying to shake one or the other. But I’m excited to look back and piece together what I truly believe in after decades of searching, still knowing that the search, or journey, is never really over.

I’ve also been thinking about my favorite, best, or highest spiritual moments along the way, and honestly, it was when yoga was both a somatic and spiritual practice for me. I miss it. I’m hoping I can slowly get back to it. I stopped because of wrist pain and other physical symptoms, so I doubt I’ll return to vinyasa, but it felt so grounding and I hope I can experience that again as part of my spiritual (mystical!) practice.