I have a lot to say on the matter, so I'm going to try to keep it simple- though keeping it simple isn't my strong suit. Maybe a list format instead of one of my usual tangents...

-I believe that all religions and spiritual practices have pretty much the same goal in mind but follow different paths to get there. Bickering over the details is silly when the ultimate focus is on understanding that there are forces bigger than yourself whether it be a higher power or simply your own community.

-People are so stuck to their idea of holy texts and practices that they don't stop to think just how much influence man and his whimsy has played into the formation of their belief systems. Question everything. Think critically.

-Many New Age people are in denial- they're just practicing rehashed, more palatable versions of old practices. They're often guilty of the same dogmatic and often dangerous ways of thinking. It's no coincidence how many cults are formed around New Age philosophy.

-People in the West fetishize the East as if Eastern countries and religions don't have their own issues with secularism, oppression, and hypocrisy. On a related note, many of the practices Westerners become obsessed with are considered antiquated to a lot of people living in those countries.

-I do not believe in a god that is defined within the parameters of things like gender, ethnicity, etc as a force as great as what's described is likely outside of the realms of simplistic/binary definitions.

-I do believe in concepts like the divine feminine/masculine, but not in the sense of devotion to a god or goddess. That comes from more of a place of mental/emotional empowerment than it does any sort of specific being.

-I don't believe in a one true god, as I think connection with the self and the universe (however you may define it) is a deeply personal thing and no one can define that for you. I also find proselytization pretty gross for that same reason.

-Religion, a belief in a savior, a perceived purpose, etc doesn't give you an excuse to suck as a person and not do the inner work to maybe suck a little less. New Age people are especially guilty of this, but they like to point fingers at organized religion. I consider myself a spiritual "outsider" for this reason.

-Organized religion is not necessary to be a well-rounded, conscious, kind, and connected person. But it does provide a foundation for many people to get to that place of "oneness" with themselves and the world around them. This seems especially helpful for those in recovery.

-I don't discount the idea that a higher power could be a conscious, highly involved being, but I personally take the approach of the deists- that is, a largely neutral force that sets things in motion (either through intent or pure circumstance, I haven't really decided nor do I particularly care) and steps back and lets it run.

-As silly as it sounds, I think the concept of "The Force" as outlined in the Star Wars series isn't totally out of the question either. Again, a neutral energy source that just "is" and serves no purpose to any singular person or idea but can be connected to and channeled.

-I believe that all spiritual figures were likely real people who "got it" and have been turned into legendary figures over time.

-There are lessons to be found in all beliefs and practices, but we have to remove the elements of fear, arrogance, and ego to be able to accept them for what they are regardless of if they resonate with us or not.

-Faith is not true faith if you are afraid to have it questioned.

I'm over the proposed word limit. Fight me. Or pray with me. Maybe some transcendental meditation? I hear the temple opens at five...

Papa was a large, towering man. He would trudge through the house with heavy boots and overalls, hymns flowing from the lips concealed by his white bushy beard. Buttermilk flowed thick into the sky-blue translucent plastic cup. He'd finish his verse, sit in an armchair, and take a sip of his drink. Thick liquid melted into the yellowed strands of his mustache as he flipped through the thin pages of his worn Bible. It wasn't Sunday. Just another day. But a new day was a good enough reason for worship.

I learned to play Amazing Grace on the recorder. It was one of the more difficult songs, but it was familiar and I was enthusiastic about learning it. It took some effort, but I picked it up quickly, singing the words in my head as I smashed each of my fingers onto the plastic holes, determined to avoid empty notes. My determination left red rings on the pads on my tiny fingers, but it was a marker of success. I grew sad when they would start to fade. My fifth grade music class had a challenge called "Recorder Karate", and I got my "brown belt" for managing to master the song. I don't recall playing it for Papa.

I seldom went to church, but I learned most of the songs they'd sing on Sunday mornings from my grandfather's voice bouncing through the narrow hallway in the early afternoon. The times I did go, I'd perk up when they asked us to turn to page 43. I couldn't read the notes, at least not anymore, but I knew the tune well. The pews vibrated with the low hum of a hundred voices singing along, and it was one of the few times I didn't stumble through the lyrics. Papa never went with me- he'd written off Edgewood Church of Christ many years before. His relationship with his creator was his own to determine. I would soon follow suit.

In the last weeks of Papa's life, I stayed up with him reflecting on the decades prior. He was slipping into an illness induced delirium, but present enough to finally allow his vulnerability. He began to sing, and my mother stepped in the room to join us. We sang Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, but it was a moment filled with Grace all the same.

As I tucked a small ceramic angel into the breast pocket of the suit he was to be buried in, Papa's Greatest Hits accompanied a slideshow playing on a TV mounted in the corner of the room. My aunt and uncles mused over the familiarity of the songs, and his surviving siblings commented on the significance of each tune. I sat quietly nearby, reckoning with my private conclusions.

When I am lost and blinded by my pain, I find myself returning to the same memories. They are warm and rife with perspective, even though they've become less perfect as I grow older. As I type this, I am sitting at the table where Papa would teach me riddles, humming the melody since the words have since become so murky. I am not religious and despite my upbringing, I never really have been. Still, I cannot deny the swelling of my heart when certain notes begin to play. Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come. It was Grace that brought me safe thus far, and Grace that leads me home.

This lacks originality as it's a concept expressed in someone else's writing. I'll make my point. Eventually. Probably. Look, I'm doing my best, okay?

There's a book I like by the name of Siddhartha. Simply explained, it's about the son of an Indian holy man who basically says "Wtf dad, this all kinda seems like bullshit" and decides to leave home to find the true meaning of life. Shenanigans ensue. Slight spoiler- on his journey, he meets Buddha. He is intrigued by this as he's ya know, on the search for the truth or whatever but once he meets him, he is unimpressed. The chapter goes something like this:

SIDDHARTHA: So this is Buddha, huh?

GOVINDA: Uh yeah, he's pretty dope.

S: I mean, I guess...he's just like, sitting there. I don't get it.

G: Whaddya mean? He's enlightened.

S: What is THAT supposed to mean?

G: He's like, found the truth. You know, the meaning of all things.

S: What is the TRUTH?

G: It's the TRUTH, man. I don't know.

S: Oh, for fuck's sa-HEY BUDDHA!

BUDDHA: *casts a lazy yet enlightened eye over at Siddhartha*

S: Yo, Buddha. What's the deal? How exactly are you supposed to show people "the truth" What even is enlightenment?

G: What the hell, Sid? Be cool, do you not realize-

S: No hold on, Vin- this guy is a con artist, don't you see? He can tell us how you got there, but he can't SHOW us what it's like to be there, man. [to Buddha] Quit bullshitting everybody!

B: *gives Siddhartha an enlightened smirk, walks off enlightenedly to continue enlightening his followers*

S: What was that about?

G: I don't know but you're lucky he didn't come for you. That was rude af, my guy.

S: Whatever. Let's bounce. This is lame.

G: Actually...I'm gonna stay.

S: For real?

G:Yeah, dude...I'm kinda digging what he's saying.

S: BUT HE'S NOT SAYING ANY- alright, know what? You do you. I don't get it, but I respect it.

G: You're still my boy, though. You got this.

S: Yeah. You too. Be good.

This chapter stuck with me the most out of the entirety of the book despite it being one of the earliest and least involved chapters of the story. I read it while "finding myself". *gag* I mentally revisit it often as it serves as a reminder- when it comes to the TRUTH, especially truths involving the intangible, that is for you to define. We may have truths that can't be argued (though people will certainly still try), things like math, science, and so on but as far as what things like peace, openness, healing, spiritual connection, etc...no one can define that for us. Someone can tell us the steps they took to get there, but our path may very well lead in a totally different direction. Truth, like many other things in life, is subject to duality. It is both tangible and intangible, defended and defenseless, objective and subjective. All these years later, I'm still a little peeved with Govinda for choosing to follow the steps of another in pursuit of oneness. But that's his truth, right?