Some Reflections

Dear Malady,

I’m putting my book down for a moment because I want to reflect on your last post. I’m interested in knowing more about how you feel like you’ve grown spiritually? Are there been specific moments or events you can share with me? When we first started this blog, I was anxious about discussing spiritual issues in the ways you and I have now begun to explore. But now, I feel perfectly fine with these discussions.

Now I’m at a point at which I’m asking myself, “What’s next?” I am still not sure what I want from a spiritual life, except that I want to somehow experience life more fully; being aware of every moment of each day, having an open heart for everyone I encounter, being more sure of myself, making decisions with clarity and confidence, and being more joyful. What do you want out of your spiritual life?

I’m intrigued by what you said about people turning to religion simply for comfort. In my own experience, I have mostly found that to be true, too. It troubles me to think that people so often do things to do little more than support or solidify what they already believe. At a minimum, there’s something really dull about that. To resist changing and challenging yourself and what you believe does something to insulate you from the world that is crashing around you. It really limits your experience.

What astounds me the most is when I talk to people who have traveled widely and I discover how limited their experiences often are. They come back from a trip and talk about all the places, people, and things they saw, but their thinking and approach to life doesn’t seem to have changed much. As I remember reading in Paul Theroux’s The Old Patagonian Express, “Travel is pointless unless you intend to change.”

Whether they have traveled or not, I’ve found it hard to find people who integrate their experiences into the growth of their own souls, or whatever they identify as that core part of ourselves that makes us human beings. To me, not sharing (or worse, not even contemplating) that part of your life makes for a lonely and ignorant one—a life that’s little more than a lot of discordant clatter and motion.
You had presented Lewis’s point that religion should start from a place of ‘discomfort and fear.’ The above pretty much describes how I understand his point and what you had discussed in your last post. More thoughts? Vituperation?

-Gary