Ritual

This whole Unitarian ritual is so bizarre. I guess there is something to be said for tradition, because otherwise I'm not sure why I still do this, more than some drawn out connection to parents and grandparents and home I wish I could say its a matter of belief or conviction but the fact is I come because it seemed like a good idea at the time, 'cause I feel like I should on some level, or for lack of a better idea. I often leave disappointed.

Spirituality for me, has grown way bigger than the confines of a building. Buildings rarely (not never, just rarely) move one to some higher existence. I'd say spirit is something intangible, more a sense in my gut, a shaking. Spirit is hard to explain. It was there in that flame-lit stone chaple way back when. It was there in the sweat lodge. It was there at Chaco, when I ducked between the eaves of ancient ruins and felt my throat constrict. Spirit pulls at my heart when I am sleeping alone under a clear night sky full of stars.

Worship I guess is an entirely differnet deal. I'm grateful for what a life and heritage of church-going has taught me as far as how I live my days, but worshipping together has rarely touched into the spiritual side of things for me. I dont want answers, I'm not looking for the right choice to be handed down to me from places unseen. I like the struggle, all for myself. I worship when I meditate, recognizing the small space which I occupy between and with the unending stream of everyone and everything in the universe. Worship I believe involves calling attention and holding sacred space for spirit.

My mother asked me recently, how my spirituality has changed since I've been out here. This I suppose is my weak attempt to figure that out. I know that my faith has grown by a lot since I moved to Colorado, but in ways I'm not convinced have any small connection to spirituality at all. Faith in humanity and faith in the universe seem like residents of some ordinary plane, nothing much higher to me. My awareness of spirit around me has changed a whole lot, I think thats the biggest difference. I know, now how walking into a ruin feels--how the air gets a little bit thicker and the light a little bit sharper, and how the hair on my neck stands and my heart thuds towards attention. I know now how the desert breaths at night--heavily and hot, till the moon shows up and then how the whole place dreams of ice and silver and deliverance.

I'm at Steaming Bean kicking myself for staring out onto mainstreet and visually undressing every black SUV that goes by to see if its his. I am really hating this stupid girl brain right now, while simaltaneously almost realizing it's futile to try to control it, much as I'd like to turn it off and get back to my life. There is little I loath more than waiting for the phone to ring. Feeling like I'm stuck in limbo and waiting for the phone to ring, well, thats an all around winner.

I wish I could write all of this effectively, but I can't seem to find an angle or a way in. It would make such a good short story, everything thats happened. I think I just dont quite know how to tell it yet.