When I first picked up a book on Buddhism, (and I can't remember for the life of me which one it was since I was loaned a handful of them by a friend), I opened the book with a great curiosity and a little trepidation. After all, many people still think of Buddhism as monks in orange robes chanting Hare Krishna. So how could I, a middle-class, white girl from the suburbs be so drawn to this mystical, ethnic, eccentric, way of viewing the world? AND, even if I could grasp it, how was I going to explain it to my friends, family, co-workers, etcetera. You know - all the people picturing the Guru on the mountain top?
So, it was a huge relief, as well as a huge, "What now?" wave that passed over me when I read the first words somewhere in the middle of the book, where I just happened to turn to, that just happened to get at the very depths of what I was going through at that very moment in time. "Coincidence." I thought. So I tore myself away from the pages, and coincidentally, slept peacefully for the first time in months. The next afternoon, not conciously thinking of the night before, I flipped open the pages again...and it happened again! Words that spoke directly to me, elevating my concious out of the day to day drudgery to a level of awareness I had never experienced before.
Unlike other subjects I've studied, I didn't just think "This is interesting and I'm going to learn more about Buddhism". My gut response was, "WHOA! Hold the phone, I've KNOWN this loving-kindness and compassion stuff all along and here it is in black and white!" Those words weren't just ink on the page, they were me, my world, my values, my innate spirituality that I had never seen or heard articulated so fully in a religious context before. It was SO comforting, and yet a bit scary, because still - I was going to have a lot of explaining to do!
And still, a little over a year later, I continue to stumble awkwardly down the Buddhist path. I don't think I can ever give up eating meat. I live in a Western culture that thrives on constant motion, so finding time and more importantly, justification, to sit and meditate, especially when my children are near (which is almost always) is challenging. I pause before I swing the fly swatter, but still, I swing. I fall into emotional traps that keep me from appreciating the moment. I swear and talk shit about people sometimes...BUT, I keep reading everything I can - opening a book about Buddhism is like being an infant held tight in my mother's arms. And just like I KNOW I am my mother's daughter, I also KNOW I am a Buddhist.
So ponder this...What if, like blue eyes, or sexual preference, or artistic talent, spirituality is just something you're born with? I for one don't believe you can train a person to be spiritual but you can "train" them to be religious. Missionaries do it all the time. We've all heard the stories of people rebelling against their religions, converting from one extreme to the other, searching their whole lives to find where they fit in. What if it's just "in" us? Isn't trying to deny or change something your born with is turning away from yourself. How do we find that before we get "trained" or become disillusioned or before we turn away from our inner spirit all together?
It took me 45 years to recognize my inner spirit, and I'm so glad I have an open-minded (for the most part) family, and friends, who believe that it shouldn't matter who's table your eating at, as long as your spirit is being nourished there.
