Let go and open up!

I grew up with faith, never questioning it. Even in my most wild of youthful indiscretions, faith was there. 

I believe most of us who grow up with someone else’s idea of faith eventually begin to wonder if it's the right version of spirituality for ourselves. As we learn more about who we are, transitioning from childhood to adulthood, perhaps we begin to see that there is a world of ideas, theologies, and interpretations to discover. 

This was my transition, wilding with friends, as young adults do, but indulging in books, poetry, and lively conversation about theology, spirituality and the wonders of the universe and God. 

I loved that part of my youth, exploring, learning, questioning, and challenging what I had always known. Throughout it, some version of God and spirituality stuck with me. Until a trip that I took changed everything.

Eleven years ago, in an effort to help me find community, and perhaps even Church again, my parents encouraged me to take a trip to Haiti with a Christian group. While the trip was incredible, and I fell in love with the people of Haiti, I came home with a conviction that did not match my parents’ intent. I came home convinced, without a doubt, that God couldn’t possibly exist. 

I had never in my life met people with so much faith. The Haitian people expressed such unflappable faith in God, praising him, loving him, and putting all of their trust in him. But what kind of God could allow these beautiful, God-fearing people to suffer so much?

Since then I have lived without spirituality, unsure of what to believe in, unsure of how to even speak on the subject. I've often been negatively triggered by phrases like “God blessed us” when a second home was unscathed by the same hurricanes that ravaged Haiti, or “God bless America”, as if Americans are somehow more worthy of God’s love than the citizens of all other countries. 

As I have grown into middle age - becoming a wife, a mother of two, a restaurant owner through a pandemic, and suffering the joys and the heartaches that come with all of these transitions - I have begun to feel the hole that was left behind when I ended my relationship with the Spiritual. 

My mom, recognizing, as mothers do, the struggles, the strain on my mental health, and the loss of my selfhood, once again, suggested a trip. This time, it was a river trip in Utah, alongside a community of women with the intention of individual, spiritual growth. 

Given that I had shied away from Christian ideology ages ago - and I am still struggling with the idea of God - I felt I had to do my own research this time. I didn’t want to be convinced to come back to the fold of Christianity, or inundated with the version of God that I had been raised to believe in. I already knew that wasn’t for me. 

After being assured that Honest Heart Journeys was for everyone regardless of their version of Spirituality, I hesitantly agreed. On June 26th we began our trip down the Green River through Desolation Canyon, and I began my own journey back into Spirituality.

Six days, no cell phones, no internet, only women and the river. As we embarked, I committed to this experience, letting go of my trepidations and opening myself up to whatever the river was offering. 

To my surprise, I was broken open. Not only by being unplugged for a week, not only by communing with nature, but really by the authenticity, vulnerability, and genuine hearts of the women I was with.

Women from early 30s to late 70s were with me, teaching me again how to speak openly, honestly, and genuinely about my path in and out, and hopefully back into Spirituality, into joy, into delight. 

We used the river as our guide, finding metaphors in our surroundings. The metaphor that I most connected with was that of the layers of the canyon walls, reminding me of the layers of myself that have been forgotten, or hidden, or pushed down and out of mind.

The messy layers, the heartbroken layers, the self-conscious layers, the creative layers, the outspoken activist layers, all of them a part of who I am today. All of them important, all of them worthy, all of them needing a little sunlight to shine on them, to remind me of their value. 

In addition, our group discussion facilitator – guided by the trip book we’d read beforehand – invited us to find and root ourselves in our “anchor point” like that which holds a cocoon steadfast as the caterpillar transforms into a butterfly. I am still searching for mine, but I love the idea of finding a truth to hold onto, to help guide my actions, my conversations, my relationships. 

For so long, feeling empty and lost, I have found myself guided by resentment, bitterness, and overwhelm, leading to fractured relationships and mishandled moments.

Even though I haven’t found my perfect anchor point yet, even the search has helped me to use more positive motivators as a daily practice: joy, delight, compassion, grace. This invitation has helped me use the Spiritual, the goodness that the universe provides, to help guide me. 

Three weeks back in “the real world”, I falter, finding myself slipping back to old habits. But I’m consistently bringing myself back to the flowing river, back to the layers of the canyon, each with value, back to the anchor point invitation. With these experiences, I am able to grow a little each day, finding wholeness in an honest, authentic, and Spiritual heart. 

I only know that the river kept singing.
It wasn’t a persuasion, it was all the river’s own constant joy
which was better by far than a lecture, which was comfortable, exciting, unforgettable.

- from At the River Clarion by Mary Oliver