Death at 31

I recently read an article by a young man who had been diagnosed with cancer. He had weeks to live when he wrote the article. He shares some lessons he has learned along the way, and I think those lessons are worth sharing further.

1. "Gratitude" - in the midst of a challenging time with mental and physical ups and downs, he found solace in remembering his friends and family, the good times he shared with them, and the privileges he has had in life.

2. "A life, if lived well, is long enough" - this man knew he was close to death, but he wasn't bemoaning the fact that his life was being cut short. He was at peace knowing he had made the most of the time he had.

3. "Be vulnerable and connect with others" - vulnerability seems like a weakness, but it's probably the opposite. It's the best way to authentically connect with others, something that brings us some of the greatest joys we can experience in life.

4. "Do something for others" - another way we experience deep joy.

5. "Protect the planet" - this guy had done a lot of traveling and had seen some amazing places. He was inspired by the natural beauty of the world, but felt we need to do a better job of protecting our natural home. This seems like a subset of #4, but it's an important one.

The man's name was Elliot Dallen, and he died on September 7, 2020, the day after his article was published. The article is worth reading. Life becomes more precious when we realize how little life we have left. Elliot sensed that, and his writing brought out life's beauty while squarely facing the difficulties of his situation. If you have about 5 or 10 minutes to spare, please take a look. I think you'll be happy you did.

Honest, Wise Men

In LDS scripture, a revelation is recorded as received by Joseph Smith, the Church's founder. In speaking of government leaders, the revelation states (D&C 98:10):

honest men and wise men should be sought for diligently, and good men and wise men ye should observe to uphold

I don't normally talk about politics, but I'm interested in hearing peoples' opinions on something.

I have been wondering at the support I have seen for President Trump among LDS friends. In light of the scripture above, I would think that for faithful LDS people, a person's character would be a critical factor in deciding who to support. And from what I can see, many people supporting Trump seem to be holding their noses while voting for him because they know he's not a good man. They admit his character is poor but believe he will support certain principles and policies they favor.

I wonder if I'm reading this right. I know I don't typically get feedback on my blog, and it's ok if I don't get a response here, but I'd like to hear from you on this. Are you LDS? Do you support Trump? If so, how do you reconcile that support with the scripture above?

Or perhaps you're LDS and you don't support Trump. I'd like to hear your thoughts on how your faith plays a factor in that decision, if at all. Does the scripture above play a role, or are there other more important factors?

And if you're not LDS, but you resonate with any of the above, please share your thoughts. For myself, though I don't agree with all LDS teachings, the scripture above still resonates with me. I believe character is critical in making decisions of who to support in leadership positions.

What do you think? What role does/should character play in electing officials?

Please state your opinions respectfully. We're in a very polarized political climate right now, and I would like to promote a kinder, gentler environment for the exchange of ideas. 😊 So ... safe space. Please share. Thanks.

A Simpler Teleology

Teleology is the philosophical study of purpose. Telos is Greek for 'end', 'purpose', or 'goal'. Teleology has a long history, going as far back as Aristotle (maybe farther), and serves as a goal- or purpose-oriented explanation for why things are the way they are.

Aristotle talks about four types of explanations: the material, formal, efficient, and final causes. The material cause deals with the matter of which the thing is composed. The formal cause deals with the form or design of the thing. The efficient cause deals with the agent by which the thing is made. The final cause is the telos of the thing, the purpose for which it was made.

I often think of these in terms of how we understand the question of why. If, for example, I ask, "why is the sun hot?", I might understand the question in various ways, leading me to give very different answers. Note the answers below are illustrative only and are not intended to be statements of absolute truth.

1. Material: the sun is largely made of hydrogen
2. Formal: the sun was designed to be hot
3. Efficient: heat is generated by fusion, primarily by fusing hydrogen into helium
4. Final: the sun is hot in order to warm the earth and make life possible here

My answer for the material cause above is meaningless unless paired with the efficient cause, as the presence of hydrogen by itself (the primary material contributing to the heat) is not a sufficient explanation for the heat. An alternative answer might be to say that the sun is made of heat, though that wouldn't make much sense in our modern world.

The formal cause here isn't very useful either. I could have said the sun is a sphere, but that has nothing to do with its heat.

An alternative answer of the efficient cause might be to say that God designed the sun to be hot. But I have chosen the more scientific answer to illustrate something.

In our modern world, we tend to favor the material and efficient causes as explanations when approaching a subject logically and rationally. Science favors the combination of these causes to explain various phenomena. In scientific explanations and modern philosophical discussions, we tend to de-emphasize the formal and final causes. But as human beings, we connect well with the narrative implied by the final cause. The final cause connects things to their purpose.

If we focus on the telos, or final cause, we may feel we need to explain everything that occurs by some ultimate, grand purpose of life. If we pursue the teleological chain to its logical end, it may lead us to God as the prime mover or something similar. With such a focus, we may become inclined to offer mystical or supernatural explanations for the efficient cause rather than the purely rational, naturalistic explanations typically offered by science. I'm not suggesting this is a bad thing; it's just an observation.

Teleological explanations can be satisfying to the soul, giving us a feeling of purpose in our lives. That can have a big psychological benefit up to a point. But the need to offer a teleological explanation to everything can also be a huge psychological burden. It's exhausting and can become crippling. Life is a complex web of interconnected beings, objects, and forces whose actions all affect one another in unknown ways. To seek an answer to the question 'why' for anything and everything that might happen in our lives may seem pious to the devout religionist - it's a natural response to a belief in an omnipotent God. If God can control everything, then surely there is a reason that this particular thing is happening to me right now. But that obsession with explaining everything can leave us mentally whirling in endless circles with no real benefit.

Sometimes things just are. There's no why. There's no because. They just are.

Why does the wind blow? Because it does. It didn't blow in order to make you cold. It didn't blow to break your umbrella so you would get wet in the rain. It didn't blow to make you feel good on a hot day. It just blew. It's what it does.

I'm reminded of the song "Roll the Bones" by Rush. To roll the bones means to toss the dice. Lyrics from the song: "Why does it happen? Because it happens. Roll the bones." Toss the dice. Play the game. Live your life. Don't worry about the why. It happened. It's your turn. Roll the bones.

There's a lot of wisdom in that. It's not an attitude of 'I don't care.' It's a purposeful move beyond telos to a life that is lived fully, in the present moment. Getting caught up in the teleology of everything only pulls us out of our lives and gets us stuck in our heads.

So don't worry about the purpose of everything. Let it go. And live your life fully. Joyfully. Every moment.

But that's hard. Teleology, or purpose, is important to us psychologically. What if we can't just let go? How do we handle the question of why? Maybe one answer is that the purpose of this moment is simply to have the experience you're having. Perhaps experience is its own purpose. Each new experience, whether we label it good or bad, helps us grow. Maybe that can be the answer to our soul's longing. Maybe teleology doesn't have to connect everything in one massive logical chain. Maybe the telos, or purpose, of this moment is simply ... this moment.

It's a simpler teleology. No causal chain to invent and maintain. This moment is the purpose. Just this.

Connecting With Our Source

 I think I'm finally beginning to understand what meditation is all about.

When I was a kid, I learned to meditate in a karate class. We were taught a very simple method, and I took it as the goal of meditation for many years. We were taught to empty our minds of all thought. That's a useful, if impossible, exercise. It can give you a bit more control of your mind as you develop some mental discipline through the effort. But as it's ultimately impossible, emptying the mind can't be the true objective.

Many years later, I found unbelievable peace through meditation. It healed me like no other practice had done before. And for a while, I thought that peace was the objective. Peace is a wonderful product of meditation - sometimes. But there's no guarantee you'll feel peace. And if we can't guarantee the result, perhaps peace isn't the real purpose of meditation either.

At other times in meditation, I have experienced intense bliss. This seems like a great outcome, but like peace, I can't make it stay around. So bliss probably isn't the real objective either.

I now believe that the objective of meditation is simply bringing our awareness to the source of our awareness. When I do that, I plug into that Source, which seems to be both me and much larger than me. And that practice of connecting with this Source is liberating and empowering.

It reminds me that I am not this limited body in which I find myself. It reminds me that I am connected to a much wider reality than what I experience every day. And it infuses me with a love, a joy, and a peace that is beyond anything I can describe. While this practice gives me the power to distance myself from my thoughts and emotions, I am also enabled to live more fully present, accepting every moment as it comes without judgment. Life becomes easier somehow. And the states of bliss and peace I described earlier start to become a more common occurrence. Though they are not the objective of meditation, they are its natural fruits.

Questions like "who am I?" can be extremely powerful in directing our attention during meditation. Such questions may seem obvious to the mind, which will spit back any number of answers without any trouble. But if we move beyond the mind's easy answers, recognizing how transient those answers are, we begin to see how impossible it is to actually answer the question. If we persevere, allowing the uncertainty and wonder of our nature and existence to work upon us, we begin to come toward the seat of consciousness itself. We begin to approach our Source.

As we get used to it, we can learn to touch the Source by simply turning our attention inward. It becomes easier to do. And we start to see how we are like branches on a tree. Most of the time, our attention is focused outward. But if we look back, we recognize how connected we are to everything else. We see that by harming our fellow branches, we're ultimately harming ourselves ... because we're all one tree. And we can more easily take in the life-giving sap that's always flowing into us, but which we're usually too distracted to notice, process, and appreciate. We soak in the love that's all around us, and we naturally become better, more patient, more kind, more compassionate. Life becomes our friend instead of our enemy. And we rest in the present moment.

This is the peace that transcends all understanding that Jesus (John 14:27) and Paul (Philipians 4:7) talked about. But it doesn't come by focusing on peace or by actively seeking it. It comes through awareness, insight, and surrender. It comes by understanding who and what we truly are as we connect with our Source.

Letting Go of our Garbage

There is a man in Alachua, Florida named Mickey Singer. I found him through one of his books called "The Surrender Experiment", and I really resonated with him. I was so drawn to his experiences that I decided to visit him at his "Temple of the Universe" a few months ago. I enjoyed hearing him speak, and then spoke to him briefly in private. He's a fascinating guy. Since the pandemic started, he has been posting his talks on his website. I listened to one of his recent talks, and it inspired me to write the following. To be fair, most of what follows came from Mickey. I am paraphrasing some of what he said and summarizing the main ideas that spoke to me. Hopefully they'll be useful to someone else too.

Temple of the Universe in Alachua, Florida 

Every single thing that happens to us is for our benefit if we are willing to let go and enjoy the ride. It's only when we 1) cling to what we want or 2) resist what we don't want that our lives become a living hell.

By letting go, we allow ourselves to live in the moment. Each action we take becomes an end unto itself. We cease to work for money - we work for the sake of the work we're doing. We cease to interact with loved ones for what we can get out of the relationship - we interact with them for the sake of the interaction. We cease to look for ends and results other than the experience we are having at the moment.

And this can be fulfilling when we recognize that every experience we have makes us a better person. If it's a pleasant experience, we enjoy the pleasantness. If it's an unpleasant experience, we open to it and grow from the challenge it presents.

No more struggle. Life becomes peaceful. The world becomes friendly. There are no more enemies. Every one and every thing that touches our lives works for our good (Romans 8:28) because we use every experience to become a greater being. Everything in the world becomes God to us, lifting us up and helping us reach our full potential.

So it really comes down to letting go and living in the moment. But how do we let go? We have to learn to relax in the midst of trouble. And meditation is a great tool for helping us do that. It can train us to become more conscious and aware of everything that's going on regardless of circumstance.

With this combination of focus and relaxation, a kind of intense state of rest, we can begin to see clearly as garbage we have stored in our psyches begins to come up. As it arises, we can become conscious enough to look at it without getting mixed up in it. We watch it do its thing, and by not investing it with our energy, we begin to let it go.

The practice of focusing our attention on something other than our minds gives us the ability to distance ourselves from the mental chatter when our emotions start to go crazy because something happens that triggers the garbage we have stored inside. Meditation is training for the real spiritual/psychological work that happens when life gets hard. It give us the tools to let go. It enables us to become comfortable being uncomfortable. We recognize when we're not ok - and we're ok with that.

It might take many experiences with a single piece of garbage, whatever it is, before we're able to release it. It could be a traumatic experience in our past or a fear of something that might happen in the future. But whatever it is, if we keep at it, it will eventually disappear. And piece by piece, we will gradually remove the sewage in our psyches, and having cleansed our souls, we'll begin to live more deeply and authentically. Our entire lives can become free, and we simply live life instead of doing battle with it.

Beginner's Mind

We have a tendency to become accustomed to our reality so that what is familiar to us becomes trite and boring. What we are familiar with is easier to ignore than something new and exotic. New surroundings grab our attention and draw us in. It's one of the things I enjoy about travel.

But every thing has beauty, regardless of whether we have seen it before. Our acclimatization to our reality does not have to lead to a devaluation. When we become used to something, we think we know it. And we see it through the lens of the mental model we have constructed. But actually, we cease to see it for what it is and only perceive the model of it that we have created in our minds.

We think we understand it, but we only know it at a snapshot in time and probably only at a surface level. We close ourselves off to the depth and dynamic nature of the thing, and it loses some of its magic.

We do this with relationships too. We think we know someone so we stop paying attention to who they really are. Instead, when we interact with them, we're really interacting with the reflection of them that we hold in our minds. I have often wondered why it is harder to treat the people who are close to us with the patience and kindness that we often show to strangers. I think this is part of the answer. Familiarity leads us to devalue the thing and abstract it away from reality. This phenomenon has led to aphorisms like "familiarity breeds contempt" (we devalue the familiar) and "absence makes the heart grow fonder" (spending time apart can make things less familiar, and the reunion feels more fresh).

There is a concept in Buddhism called Beginner's Mind. The idea is to let go of preconceptions and bring to every moment the simple curiosity of a child. Everything is new. Everything has something to teach us. We accept our inability to truly know anything, so we drop all preconceptions, and we enter into each moment afresh, letting it fill us and teach us. When we do that, we begin to see through the facades and illusions we have created (our static mental models), and we begin to touch the depth of reality in every moment.

Not all mental models are bad. Some are quite useful. They can help us make sense of things and make decisions based on limited information. The problem comes when we take those models too seriously. If we mistake them for reality, we're living an illusory life. We can use them as tools while always being willing to question them. And we can drop them whenever possible so we can see reality fresh.

Some mental models are less useful. My pride, fueled by fear and a feeling of insignificance, generates mental models of my world with me at the center. These models are a powerful mix of truth and lies that keep me from experiencing the fullness of reality. Pride is a tightening and a closing off. Humility is a release and an opening to what is. To be humble, I've learned I just need to stay open. When I do, I can drop the ego-generated mental models and, like a child, view my world with eyes of wonder. I think maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said, "Except ye ... become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." (Matt 18:3). Maybe we just need to stay open, living every moment like a child with eyes wide open.

Falling Awake

Waking up spiritually is a falling awake. It's not about effort. It's more about easing into it. Like you're falling asleep - except you're waking up. Waking to life as it is, without wishing it to be other than it is.

We're all so lost in our own stories. Stories about how life should be. Waking up is a radical kind of acceptance, a submission to life just as it is, and a dropping of all the stories and the story-making.

Acceptance and surrender are at the root of freedom from suffering. But acceptance of what is doesn't mean we can't act to make things better. It just means we start with a clear view of what is, and we accept whatever comes, whether we succeed in our efforts or not. We let go of the results.

True happiness and freedom come from choosing what we have, loving our life, regardless of our circumstances. Being happy with what we have instead of wanting what we don't have.

Daryl Davis

I have had a feeling recently that I need to better understand the racism in our world today. I have been reading a lot about what it's like to be a black person in the US, and I have been amazed at my ignorance of the challenges that black people face. I know I am not alone. There are a lot of non-black people on a quest to better understand the problems of race from the perspective of black people.

But I have also had a feeling that I need to better understand racism from the opposite perspective. I want to know why some people think that skin color is a sufficient criterion to judge someone as inferior. I truly don't understand white supremacy - or any concept of racial superiority or inferiority. But I want to understand it. I want to know what makes people think this way. And I don't think that desire has been as common.

Last week, I stumbled on a TED talk given by a man named Daryl Davis. His story is beautiful and inspiring. As a black man, he befriended members of the Ku Klux Klan over many years in order to understand them. He engaged in respectful dialog, listening to their views, and sharing his own. As a result of these friendships and discussions, some of the men have left the KKK, though that was not Daryl's original intention. The video below is part of his story, focused on one particular member of the KKK.

Near the end of the video, Daryl says:

Take the time to sit down and talk with your adversaries. You will learn something, and they will learn something from you. When two enemies are talking, they're not fighting; they're talking. It's when the talking ceases that the ground becomes fertile for violence. So keep the conversation going.

I learned years ago that my greatest growth often came by paying attention to what was uncomfortable within me. Listening to my negative emotions helped me unravel them and make friends with them. Ignoring them only ensured they would stick around, grow in strength, and influence my behavior in negative ways. The application of that lesson to interpersonal relations is probably what has led me to this desire to understand white supremacy. It makes me uncomfortable, but ignoring it won't make it go away. With patience, kindness, and respect, perhaps I can understand it and help resolve it. As Daryl says of his conversation with one KKK leader:

I wasn't there to fight him. I was there to learn from him. Where does this ideology come from? Because once you learn where it comes from, you can then try to figure out how to address it and see where it's going.

Daryl Davis has done what I have only thought about. He has become my new hero. His story has inspired me to learn more. I don't think I'm ready to reach out to the KKK, but I do want to pursue the kind of insight into human nature that Daryl discovered. The goal isn't to convert anyone. The goal is to understand. And with that deeper understanding, perhaps I can bring a bit more wisdom to this problem and be a more effective agent for positive change.

A New Normal for Racism

So far, the year 2020 has been a crazy one. We have faced a global health crisis, which precipitated an economic crisis, which has contributed to an escalation of a long-standing moral crisis of racial conflict. In talking about the pandemic, people have used the phrase "a new normal" to discuss the long-lasting impact of the virus on our society. Perhaps we can extend that concept to the issue of race. Maybe it's time for a new normal.

While racism is global, it is particularly problematic in the US. Since I live in the US, and I'm more familiar with my country's history of racism than elsewhere, I'll focus on that.

In 1861, the United States began to fight a war over slavery and/or states rights, depending on who you ask. The abolitionists, primarily in the north, framed the conflict in terms of slavery. The south, believing their states' rights were being infringed by the federal government, framed the conflict in terms of states rights. Those differing points of view persist today, though most people see the conflict today the way the north framed it. In war, after all, the victor tends to write the history books. But both views are valid.

I was taught to view the conflict in terms of slavery. And considering the moral bankruptcy of such an institution, I prefer that view. It reminds us of the darkness of our past and forces us to come face to face with our collective demons. While the issue of states rights is a valid one, I find that view tends to reinforce and justify the ongoing racism that is still a plague on our culture. In my mind, the war was about slavery.

The US Civil War ended in 1865, but the conflict between races continued. This was especially true in the southern states, where many people viewed the recently liberated slaves as less capable, less intelligent, and less deserving of the rights and privileges bestowed upon them by US citizenship. This led to local persecutions, which sometimes led to violence. It also led to laws in many states that enforced a "separate, but equal" concept upon black people that turned out to be horribly unequal in most cases. And while it sometimes amazes me that it took as long as it did to come to a head, all of this eventually led to a social uprising in the 1950s and 1960s (almost 100 years after the war) known as the Civil Rights Movement, which ultimately led to the abolition of segregation and the repeal of many laws that enforced it.

Millions of people died in the Civil War. Millions more suffered in the aftermath, with persecution leading to the deaths of many more in the ensuing years. Almost a century later found us still fighting the same battles with fewer guns and fewer deaths, but with palpable pain and suffering nonetheless. And now, about 60 years after the Civil Rights Movement, in the wake of multiple incidents of black deaths at the hands of police over many years culminating in the horrific death of George Floyd in May 2020, the issue of race is gaining national (and global) attention with a force we haven't seen since the 1960s. George was not the first black person to die at the hands of police in what appears to have been a flagrant display of unnecessary force. But the details of his death at the hands of a police officer were sufficiently heinous to spark a flurry of protests that have gained momentum and are bringing this racial war to the forefront.

George Floyd, pinned to the ground by a police officer kneeling on his neck

My heart goes out to black people who are subjected to racism throughout their lives. I can't really fathom the difficulties that I have been hearing about recently. The way black people have to teach their children to behave when confronted by police is appalling. As a child, I was taught to behave respectfully toward law enforcement too, but with a LOT less fear that we would be randomly questioned or detained by police officers. And with no fear that we would be perceived as a threat just because of the way we looked. I know I have only the beginnings of an understanding of what it is like to be a black person in the US. I would like to better understand the challenges they face. At the moment, I confess that I struggle to understand their situation.

I also struggle to understand the philosophy behind white supremacy groups. I struggle to understand racism. I struggle to understand why I should treat anyone differently because of the color of their skin. I would like to understand why white supremacists think the way they do. I have heard people say that racism has no place in our public discourse, but I disagree. While I see racism as a social cancer, I don't think the cancer will go away if we ignore it or if we fight to suppress it. It will simply go into hiding, continue to fester, and explode in our faces at some difficult time in the future. I want to understand it. And perhaps, with that understanding, I can be a more effective agent of change.

During the Civil Rights Movement, we were fortunate in this country to have a man like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. There are a few people throughout history who have used love to bring about social or political change, and Dr. King was one of them. Agree or disagree with his political views, but it's difficult to find fault with a philosophy that leads a man to write something like:

Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.

And from my limited study of the man's life, he tried hard to live that philosophy. Inspired by his love of Christianity, the Bible, and the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, and inspired by Gandhi and his application of ahimsa (non-violence) to combat social injustice, Dr. King was a light to a society struggling to come to terms with its racially diverse population. Where racial tensions often led to hatred and violence, Dr. King preached a message of love and non-violence.

Hatred is the fundamental problem here. Love is the antidote. These intangibles reside in the heart. Ultimately, racism won't go away until we change our hearts, and that's a tall order. Religions and philosophies have been working on that for thousands of years with limited success. If I can change only one heart during my lifetime, the effort will have been worth it. But the only heart I can really change is my own. Though that sounds limiting, I have also found that as I purify my heart, making it more a source of love than hate, that love tends to radiate and inspire others to find a little more love in their own hearts. I know that's not very comforting for those who are currently victims of racism because a collective change of heart will probably take a LONG time to come about. But I think it is the ultimate answer to the problem.

In the short term, we need to continue the national dialog to better understand one another. We need to discuss the systemic issues that lead to racial profiling and unfair treatment. We need to explore ways to correct those systemic issues through positive change. I don't know what the answers are, but I am ready to listen. And I hope I can contribute to the solution in some way.

Let's build a new normal for racial relations. A new normal based on love. And perhaps, by working together, we can finally begin to realize Dr. King's dream.

The Indwelling Presence

I recently rediscovered some of the magic I found a few years ago when I first began meditating. A couple of months ago, I started re-reading Eckhart Tolle's book "The Power of Now". That book was an early inspiration for me, so I thought I'd go back to it and see if it could help me again. Early on in the book, Eckhart talks about a feeling of presence. Somehow, the words he used invited me to open a gate inside myself that I didn't realize was closed. As I focused on this 'presence', I felt something well up in me - a powerful sense of being, of aliveness. In its early stages, it often feels like tingling in my fingers and toes that slowly spreads to the rest of my body. But sometimes it rushes in quickly, like it did a few weeks ago. Focusing on the idea of a deep, indwelling 'presence' seems to be what did it for me that time.

In that state, everything starts to make more sense. Everything feels more connected and joyful. And everything seems more beautiful and radiant. I think maybe everything is always radiating, but I'm usually too distracted to notice. But somehow, by tapping into this presence inside of me, I was able to tear aside a curtain that was obscuring the depth of beauty in the reality all around me. And everything just glowed.

For about a week after my initial experience with it a couple months ago, I was able to tap into that presence in ordinary moments throughout the day. I didn't have to have my eyes closed. I didn't have to focus on my breathing. I didn't have to be meditating in any conventional sense - in fact, I think meditation, as I usually understand it, would be a distraction. I just opened to it, and I became intensely aware, intensely present, and intensely alive.

Meditation isn't what opened this experience to me. Not exactly. Meditation was more like a practice, or exercise of a muscle, that paved the way for the experience. In meditation, I focus on the breath, and I begin to distance my conscious awareness from the mental chatter in my mind. I begin to see clearly that I am not my thoughts or my emotions. I am deeper than them. They only feel like me when I allow them to sweep me up and make me feel lost inside of them. Meditation allows me to practice stepping outside of them and seeing them for what they are - ephemeral experiences that arise and fall like waves in the ocean. None of them stay for long unless I empower them. When I just watch them, they come and go like anything else in life.

When I meditate, I often use some object (typically the breath, but it could be something else) as a point of focus. But unless I let go of that object, I'm still stuck in a mental choke hold. The experience I'm describing requires an openness that goes beyond mental conceptions. Meditation by itself didn't unlock the experience for me. But armed with the practice of meditation, somehow all it took was a trigger for me to open up and fall out of myself. That's what it feels like happened, and yet, I think the 'self' I fell out of was just another ephemeral illusion. I fell into an ocean that is both my true self and larger than myself. I came home.

I think this is true meditation. I might start with an object, but when I let go of all mental constructs, I can fully wake up. And then my entire life becomes meditation. I meditate as I sit quietly, but I also meditate as I engage in conversations and activities. I start to live every aspect of my life fully awake.

For about a week, I could enter that state whenever I wanted. Then it faded. Kind of like it did a few years ago. I guess that makes me a spiritual yo-yo. Maybe that's ok. Ups and downs are part of life, right? Last week, I found the magic again with the help of Jack Kornfield, another one of my early inspirations. His book "A Path With Heart" was hugely transformational for me. In the last couple of weeks, I have been listening to some of his audio recordings, inspired by a sense that he has something I need. It's not so much what he says, but his presence, his love, his generosity of heart that I soak up while I listen to him. A few days ago, inspired by one of his podcasts, I had an incredible experience that felt every bit as powerful as my early magical experiences years ago. In some ways, it was more profound than the experiences I describe above from a couple of months ago. My wife noticed how happy I was that morning and most of the day. It lifted her up too. And by dinner time that day, I was depressed. 😊

It's funny now, but at the time, it was pretty frustrating. I experienced a massive emotional or spiritual swing in a 12-hour period, and there was nothing I could do about it. Thankfully, the next day was up again. I can't avoid the down times, so I try to accept them. And they are often wonderful catalysts for growth. While they're not pleasant, I believe it's possible to maintain a deep peace and equanimity in the midst of them that allows us to face our darkness with gentle curiosity and loving kindness.

I've had a concept growing in my mind recently, inspired by the ever-changing nature of reality, that maybe I have often used my spiritual experiences throughout life to fix what I perceive to be wrong in my life so that I can get back to living my life the way I want. But what I usually perceive to be my 'life' is not a static thing to come back to. Nor is my desired lifestyle necessarily a happy one. My perspective is somehow backwards. I sense a shift may be possible in which I begin to live from my spiritual nature and treat my physical life as a place I'm only visiting for a few years. I think I can begin to view the magical state as my true home, and my indwelling presence as my true life, while my physical body is just something I rent once in a while.

Perhaps with practice, the magical state I have described can become my 'normal' state. And my previously normal state of mental obscurity will become a thing of the past, remembered as something like a dream from which I have awoken.

Uncertainty in a Pandemic

Not long ago, I started a new job. This job was supposed to involve a significant amount of travel. Then the coronavirus happened.

My four kids, in four different schools, had been staying busy with friends and activities. Then the coronavirus happened.

Last fall, my wife and I booked a trip to Europe for our family. We have been planning this trip for years. We were supposed to fly near the end of May. Then the coronavirus happened.

Now all six of us are home, including our oldest who was at college until the pandemic forced his school to shut down. For the past couple of months, I have been faced with a lot of questions and relatively few answers. Questions like:

• When will our kids get to go back to school?
• How will I adapt to this new job without the ability to travel to see colleagues and customers?
• Will we be able to take our long-awaited family trip to Europe?

I'm sure there were other questions too, but you get the idea. I was working with a lot of uncertainty associated with the unknown nature of this global pandemic we've been facing. I'm sure I'm not alone.

In my desire for answers, I found myself turning increasingly to the news. I scanned headlines and read news articles, jumping from one to the next in search of information that would enable me to predict the future and answer some of these questions. Of course, it didn't really help. No one knows how this will play out. While I found some of the articles informative, and much of my search was useful, it didn't give me the answers I was seeking. Unfortunately, I also found myself increasingly unhappy as I bought into the negative tone of many of the articles. And, stuck on the idea that my search would help me answer my questions (which, of course, it can't), I became addicted to my search without realizing it.

There were a few days when I got sick of what my search was doing to me, and I swore off my phone, including the news. Taking a day off now and then proved very insightful. I was amazed at how tightly the addiction had woven its tentacles around me in such a short time. Multiple times within the space of an hour's meditation, I found myself watching the urge to reach for my phone arise and slowly fall away as I gave it my attention without allowing it to take over. At the beginning, the urge came up repeatedly, maybe five times in as many minutes, then gradually died down.

A minor addiction like this isn't the end of the world, but it was beautifully liberating to allow my awareness of it to grow and watch it dissolve.

Without any help from me, time has begun to give me answers to my questions.

• My kids won't be going back to school this year. Perhaps they will in the fall. Hopefully.
• I am adapting to my new job in unexpected ways, but the transition is going well. I expect I will be able to travel in a few months, and that will make me even more effective.
• It looks incredibly unlikely that we'll be able to take our trip to Europe as planned. We haven't canceled yet, but we almost certainly will. We hope we can take our trip next summer.

These are first-world problems, of course, not life threatening problems. But my desire for certainty in these areas has driven me to seek certainty in ways that led to a decrease in my happiness. While my certainty is slowly growing, there is still a large amount of uncertainty in our situation.

And that's ok. It gives me a chance to practice being at peace with that uncertainty.

Many people deal with serious uncertainties on a much more regular basis. How many people in the world are uncertain when they will have their next meal? How many are uncertain when they will see a loved one again? How many are uncertain whether they will live to see another day?

Uncertainty is a part of life. And a wonderful way to let go of our ego, release our need to control, and surrender to the flow of life. Becoming comfortable with uncertainty is a spiritual practice. And one that we are all becoming a bit more familiar with during this global pandemic.

It's natural to be uncomfortable when we don't know the answers. But maybe see what happens if you try embracing the uncertainty rather than fighting it. See if it doesn't feel a bit liberating to let go of the need to know.

My Response to the Coronavirus

It was Friday, March 13, and I was getting ready for a business trip to Los Angeles. I was scheduled to fly out Sunday and was looking forward to some great vegan food at a restaurant I found there a couple of weeks before. Then I got an email from my employer cancelling all non-essential travel.

Bummer.

I may have been a bit too confident in my immune system's ability to handle illness. And I definitely underestimated how contagious the coronavirus was. I certainly didn't have the foresight to see where this virus was taking us. I had been feeling cautious about the trip and was planning how to keep myself and surrounding surfaces sanitary to avoid exposure as much as possible. But I wasn't nervous about the trip.

I probably should have been.

Watching the spread of the virus in the United States has been sobering. Because of the virus' incubation period, our current understanding of the spread is, at best, like looking in the rear view mirror, giving us information about the true contagion from a week or two ago. But we're also underestimating the extent of the spread in the past because of the lack of ubiquitous testing today. So it's almost certainly worse than we know. Seeing where things likely were a couple of weeks ago when I would have been in LA makes me grateful that my employer was feeling more cautious about the situation than I was feeling. Friday the 13th turned out to be my lucky day.

Picture of a coronavirus from National Foundation for Infectious Diseases website

Who knows whether the travel would have exposed me to the virus. It certainly would have increased the probability. Instead of traveling, though, I have spent the last two weeks isolated in my home with my family. This is both awesome and frustrating. Cabin fever is tough. I'm finding it harder to exercise, which makes me physically weaker and puts a strain on my mental health. And the isolation takes a toll on me psychologically. It has been a challenge to adapt.

But being forced to share the same space, with little variety in our routine, has led to some awesome times together as a family. Earlier this week, we had a family music night where people played piano, guitar, ukulele, requested and sang songs, and laughed together as we made music. We have had family dinners together every night, talking, joking, annoying one another, and getting to know each other better. We have had family game nights and solved puzzles together. We have had family movie nights, with last night being the culmination of stupidity when we stayed up playing video games and decided to start a movie at 2am. It was so much fun.

I feel like this virus is forcing us to slow down, forcing us to reconnect with loved ones, and giving us space to dig inside ourselves and discover who we are and what we're made of. It is a gift. Packaged in horrific wrapping.

I feel so much sadness for people in Italy and New York who are struggling, suffering, and facing difficult choices of who to treat and who to abandon to their suffering and possible death. I feel such a heavy weight when I contemplate the spread of the virus across the world, and increasingly in the U.S. We may all soon be where New York is now if we're not careful. Or maybe it's too late, and we'll get there no matter what we do. I feel so sad when I think about the economy and its impact on poor people, who were living paycheck to paycheck and have now lost their jobs.

Coronavirus spread from Johns Hopkins interactive map (3/28/20)

I have no solutions to these problems. But in spite of the heaviness and sadness, when I quiet my mind and look inside, I find a place in me that is beyond the chaos. A place of peace. A place of quiet joy and delight in the miraculous complexity of life in this world. I like to visit that place regularly to remind myself that we will be ok. We will struggle. We will suffer. Many have died and many more will die before it's all over. But we will be ok.

Every challenge is an opportunity. A chance to look inside and decide whether we want to grow or shrink as a result of the challenge. A chance to decide what's important and to focus our attention and energy on the things that bring us joy and fulfillment. A chance to move beyond the masks and the fake veneer that sometimes cover the deep authenticity of being - and to decide to live more fully, more authentically, "and not, when [we come] to die, discover that [we have] not lived" (Thoreau).

Most of us will survive this challenge. Most of us will be forever marked by the experiences we're having right now. Most of us will forever remember the coronavirus and how it changed our world. We have an opportunity now and in the coming months to decide what that world will look like. I hope, whatever we choose, that our world may bring a little more light, love, and compassion into our lives and the lives of those we love.

May you all be well. Here's to us.

Etty Hillesum

I recently discovered the life of a Dutch Jewish woman, Etty Hillesum, who was killed at Auschwitz in 1943 at the age of 29. Her life seems to have been one of self-discovery and spiritual awakening at a time when the dark side of human nature seemed as if it might completely blanket the world in its shadow. I'm reading her diary and although I'm only about 1/3 the way through, I've already come across a wealth of spiritual and psychological insights, and I'm excited to read the rest.

Etty Hillesum in 1939

This morning, I read a snippet from her diary that I'd like to share. It's beautiful in its simplicity and humility. I'm in awe of people who, living through such darkness, can shine a light inside themselves and sidestep the urge to hate. The text below came directly from her diary as part of a single paragraph. I have added paragraph breaks to enhance readability, but the text is otherwise unchanged.

"What is it in human beings that makes them want to destroy others?" Jan asked bitterly. 

I said, "Human beings, you say, but remember that you're one yourself." And strangely enough he seemed to acquiesce, grumpy, gruff old Jan. "The rottenness of others is in us, too," I continued to preach at him. "I see no other solution, I really see no other solution than to turn inward and to root out all the rottenness there. I no longer believe that we can change anything in the world until we have first changed ourselves. And that seems to me the only lesson to be learned from this war. That we must look into ourselves and nowhere else." 

And Jan, who so unexpectedly agreed with everything I said, was approachable and interested and no longer proffered any of his hard-boiled social theories. Instead he said, "Yes, it's too easy to turn your hatred loose on the outside, to live for nothing but the moment of revenge. We must try to do without that." 

We stood there in the cold waiting for the tram, Jan with his great purple chilblained hands and his toothache. Our professors are in prison, another of Jan's friends has been killed, and there are so many other sorrows, but all we said to each other was, "It is too easy to feel vindictive." 

That really was the bright spot of today.

From "An Interrupted Life" by Etty Hillesum

Matthieu Ricard

I heard the following quote recently:

In clinging to the cramped universe of the ego, we have a tendency to be concerned exclusively with ourselves. The least setback upsets and discourages us. We are obsessed with our success, our failure, our hopes, and our anxieties, and thereby give happiness every opportunity to elude us. The narrow world of the self is like a glass of water into which a handful of salt is thrown - the water becomes undrinkable. If, on the other hand, we breach the barriers of the self and the mind becomes a vast lake, that same handful of salt will have no effect on its taste. ... If the ego were really our deepest essence, it would be easy to understand our apprehension about dropping it. But if it is merely an illusion, ridding ourselves of it is not ripping the heart out of our being, but simply opening our eyes.

- Matthieu Ricard

Some of My Spiritual Experiences

I wrote the following a few months ago in response to a request from my youngest daughter. She was working on a project for her youth program at church, and she asked family members to share stories of personal faith experiences. This is my attempt to capture some of the spiritual experiences I have had up to this point in my life.

Childhood

When I was really young, I used to sometimes sit by myself and sort of zone out. I'd think about anything and nothing. I remember one time sitting in the car by myself while it was parked at our house. I was in the passenger seat, waiting for my mom to drive me somewhere. I remember staring out the window, letting my thoughts go wherever they wanted, when I saw little dots of light racing around my field of view. I realize now that what I saw was the shadow of blood cells in my eyes projected onto my retina while staring at the blue sky (yes, I am a geek). But at the time, it seemed so magical. Like I could see into a special, hidden world. And I remember feeling a connection to something. I often felt peaceful when I was alone with my thoughts, but I couldn't really explain why I felt that way or what it was that I was doing that caused me to feel that way.

A simulation of the 'blue sky' effect I talk about above

Look closely ... white dots are moving through the blue background

Teenage Years

When I was a teenager, I had some powerful spiritual experiences that were very formative for me. One of these happened at a youth camp called Especially for Youth (EFY). I think this was the summer I was 16 years old.

The whole week had been amazing. I remember during check-in, I gave up my room twice because each time I got to my room, my roommate-to-be had a friend with him, and they wanted to room together. So both times, the pair of friends asked me if I would mind swapping rooms. I was in Indianapolis. I knew almost no one there. I had nowhere I needed to be, so I said sure. Both times.

I could have felt exasperated the second time it happened, but somehow, I just laughed and went with the flow. Each time, we had to go to the registration desk to swap keys so they had a record of where everyone was. The second time I did it, the people at the desk laughed when they saw me. But I didn't mind. I laughed too.

That initial experience was indicative of the entire week. Somehow, I had an incredibly good attitude about everything that week. I had no prior attachments molding my behavior. I was out on my own, with none of my friends around. And everything was new. Like I was a brand-new baby. I could choose whatever I wanted. I could choose where I went, who I talked with, and what my attitude would be. And I talked with everyone and had a really fun time. This feeling of having no attachments, no prior history, and total freedom to choose my response was incredibly liberating. And it gave me a lot of confidence that I could be whatever I wanted to be. All I had to do was let go.

When I got to my third room, I met my roommate, who, thankfully, let me stay, and I started to get to know the other guys in my group. There were about 20 or 30 boys in our group, and we were led by a counselor who was pretty animated and fun. We had a great time. We played and laughed and flirted with girls. Every night, we'd hang out in a lounge area at the end of our hall. I remember we entertained each other with something called "helping hands" where two people would make up one character. One person would be the character's body and face, and the other would be the character's arms. In another 'game', we drew upside-down faces on our chins and, propping ourselves upside down with a hat covering the upper part of our faces, we'd mess around, telling jokes and stupid stories, and generally acting like idiots. Watching someone's upside-down chin-face try to frown to simulate a smile, then break into laughter that looked like the weirdest scowl I'd ever seen, was hilarious. We laughed a lot in that lounge. In fact, I don't think I had ever laughed that hard in my life up to that point. A lot of this stuff was instigated by our counselor, but we all got into it. We ended up doing a skit at the talent show later in the week, recreating some of the stupid stuff we had done as a group in that lounge. It was a crazy fun week. And we grew really close as a group.

At the end of the week, all 20 or 30 of us were sitting in a small classroom, listening to a devotional given by our counselor. It was the lead-in to what was supposed to be the spiritual highlight of the week -- a testimony meeting. I don't have any memory of what our counselor said. But I do remember sort of sinking into myself and, looking around, I watched the world around me change. I seemed to be listening to an inner voice that week. A voice that had always been there, but that was largely drowned out by my fears and insecurities. When I found the courage to be completely and authentically myself, the voice became clear, and I listened to the voice and accepted it without question or doubt. Now, at the end of this magical week, I found myself transforming in a deeply profound way. And the world itself was transforming. Or perhaps I was beginning to see it clearly for the first time in my life.

There was a subtle shift in the air. Or in the way the air looked. Like I could see ripples in the air that were distorting my vision. But those ripples had always been there. I had just never seen them before. Now that I could see them, I could sort of see through them. And the world seemed more clear. And vibrant. And alive.

I looked around at my friends. I hadn't known any of them before the week started. But we had had some great times. And I considered them friends. And as I looked at them, it seemed to me that I could see into their hearts. Or their souls. I kind of saw through them. I know this all sounds mystical and magical. And probably unbelievable. But it's what I experienced. Maybe I was deluded. But it seemed to be one of the most real things I had ever felt. There were three of the boys in particular whose hearts/souls stood out to me. As I looked at them, I got the distinct impression that I knew them. Not from the week at EFY. But before. Before any of us had been born.

I raised my hand and asked if I could say something. I told the group a little of what I had just seen. And I told them that I had the distinct impression that some of us knew each other before this life. I mentioned the three boys by name who had stood out to me. I don't know why I had the courage to say what I did. Normally, I would have balked at the idea of saying something so bold and outlandish. But I was listening to that inner voice that week and somehow, I felt no fear. I just said what I felt I should say.

When the devotional ended, I went to a drinking fountain in the hall to get some water. When I looked up, those three boys were standing there. Each one of them told me they had felt the same thing. Whether they felt that way before I said anything, after I said something, or simply felt pressured into saying they felt it, I don't know. But I took it as a confirmation of what I had felt.

I had many other spiritual experiences in my later teenage years. These experiences made me feel connected to something larger than myself. Magical experiences that took me out of myself and, at the same time, made me feel more truly myself than any other time in my life. Some of these experiences made me want to laugh and shout. They filled me with energy and excitement. I felt a fire inside me that seemed to make everything beautiful and joyful. Other times, the experiences were peaceful and calming. They made me want to just sit quietly and soak it all in. But they always connected me to something. Something big and beautiful. Something loving and accepting.

One of these experiences led me to decide to attend college at Brigham Young University (BYU). The decision was based on a feeling I had during a campus visit in my senior year of high school. A feeling that I was coming home. I felt like BYU was the right place for me. And so I went.

Young Adulthood

And BYU was a great place for me. I grew into adulthood there and really began to find myself. I had some wonderfully supportive people around me, and I learned a lot. About myself. About my future profession. And about my religion. And after graduation, I took those lessons with me and continued to learn about all three of those areas of my life. In fact, I have never stopped learning about them.

In the middle of my education at BYU, I went on a mission for the LDS church in Germany. Serving a mission was one of the hardest things I have ever done. It was painful at times - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I was physically ill quite a lot. At one point, I thought I would be sent home because of my illness. But with some help from my parents, my Mission President, and my companions, I worked through the illness well enough to continue my mission for two full years.

During those years, I had some awesome spiritual experiences. One that stands out in my mind happened during a really rough time near the beginning of my mission. I had been in Germany almost four months, and I knew my companion was going home soon. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed because a lot of older missionaries were going home, and a lot of new missionaries were coming. The mission's cohort was becoming younger and younger. And even though I had only been there for four months, I felt like I was going to become a senior companion to someone younger than me and possibly train someone brand new.

It turned out I was right. On both counts. And it was hard taking on that much responsibility with so little experience. But even before it happened, and before I knew for sure that it would happen, I felt really inadequate about the possibility. I spoke the language pretty well, better than most my age, but not well enough to train someone. I didn't even feel competent to be the leader in a companionship, having someone else rely on my language skills and my knowledge of missionary work to guide the work we would do. But I felt strongly that it was coming, so I struggled with my feelings of inadequacy.

One night, I was feeling particularly despondent. I don't know if something specific happened that day that prompted my feeling. It's very likely. But whatever it was, what I remember most vividly was the despair I felt and the hopelessness that seemed to envelop me. I knelt down next to my bed and began to pray. I poured my heart out to God and told Him how weak and hopeless I felt. I asked Him for help. I don't remember what else I said. At some point, in the middle of my prayer, I felt this intense release. Like the tension that had been building in me had suddenly found an outlet and, like a dam breaking, the pressure was gone almost instantly.

Into my heart poured a light that was so incredibly peaceful and relaxing. I seem to remember kneeling there and suddenly feeling every muscle in my body instantly relax. I seemed to hear a voice that calmed me deeply, but I don't remember if there were any words to the voice or what it might have said. And, though I felt nothing physical, I could have sworn there was a hand on my shoulder, like an angel was there, giving me strength.

I have come to believe that sometimes, we simply slide into a spiritual connection. Other times, we unknowingly fight it until we're so overwhelmed that we crack, like I did that night in Germany. We protect ourselves from connection by building a cocoon around ourselves. Most often, I think this comes about by fear, though maybe there are other motivations that cause us to try to protect ourselves. But when we do, the world begins to bear down on that cocoon until we reach a point of desperation and we finally crack. Then the light begins to pour in and we find what we were looking for, but were unknowingly avoiding. Connection.

We sometimes have powerful spiritual experiences as we're pushed to the limits of our endurance. But I find it much more enjoyable to slide into that connection voluntarily. Humility and vulnerability go a long way here. We have to move beyond our own egos in order to experience that connection in a deep and fulfilling way.

Mature Adulthood

As I grew older in adulthood, having married and become a father, I found my spiritual experiences coming less frequently. I could sometimes feel a connection to something during quiet times while reading scriptures or praying. But the weight of the world bore down on me and seemed to drive away the magic. I think this came from the stress of providing financially for a family and trying to give my wife and kids the best of me. I was often stretched thin and, burdened by stress and fear, I found myself longing for the connection I had often felt when I was younger. Church, which had previously been something of a catalyst for those experiences, more often felt like a burden than an asset. And though I clung to it for many years, I eventually came to see that what had once helped me find so much connection to God was now limiting me.

I didn't fully realize this until I found my connection again. But when I found it in the spring of 2014, it felt like coming home. And I learned to let go of what was holding me back.

Experiencing the connection felt very familiar, but it was facilitated by a different method than I was used to. And the fact that this method was so powerful caused me to question many things I had previously held inviolate. The method was centered around meditation, but I realize now that it was very similar to what I had experienced during my most powerful prayers. And it was similar to what I had experienced as a young child during quiet times of reflection. A new world began to open up to me where even the most ordinary things could be infused with life, luster, and beauty. The whole world seemed to be teeming with life and light and love. And love seemed to be at the foundation of it all. But the oddest thing of all was that I experienced all of this without any reference to God, or any calling upon a Deity.

The process of accepting this new method for experiencing a spiritual connection was long and challenging. It involved transitioning away from the church, which was probably the most difficult part. But as I did when I was young, I found my inner voice. And I found the courage to follow it. And in doing so, I found the strength to explore my new landscape. And I found greater clarity than I had ever found before in my life. I think that clarity was facilitated by a rare authenticity and sincerity. Something I have experienced to a large degree at various times, like that week at EFY, but probably not quite as fully as I experienced it a few years ago as a fully grown man.

It's difficult to pinpoint a specific spiritual experience during this time of exploration because my life became a string of powerful experiences, one day after another. No single day stands out among the rest. But on a typical day, I would enter into a state of calm reflection until my mind became completely placid, like the waters of a calm lake. I would feel a deep connection to something beautiful and expansive. Something that seemed to have infinite love and patience. And as I connected with it, which happened consistently and reliably, some of that love and patience distilled into me, and I became more and more like the thing I was connecting with. Days would go by where it seemed my patience was infinite. Nothing could rattle me. I was at peace with myself and the world around me. And I felt a love inside of me that started with me (I accepted and loved myself just as I was) and gradually extended to encompass everything around me. And this love, which I seemed to be swimming in, also became a powerful source of healing for me, both physically and spiritually.

Like many things in life, my spiritual practice peaked, then fell off again as the stress of life began to crowd out my time of meditation and reflection. And as the practice fell away, old habitual thought patterns began to reassert themselves, and I lost some of the spiritual high I had achieved.

Then, about a year or two after my transition, I took a business trip during which I had a lot of opportunities to reflect. As I meditated that week, I began to lean into some uncomfortable feelings and emotions. The feeling that stands out most in my mind is loneliness. I began to see that I was terribly alone. Being away from my family, I was naturally missing them, but there was something more than that. I had once been connected to something incredible, and I had lost much of that connection. As I leaned into the feeling of loneliness and separateness, opening myself to the sensations and sorrow associated with those feelings, I found that connection re-established in a very powerful way. It was almost instantaneous. As if my vulnerability had been the key that unlocked the door separating me from this loving, expansive something. And my soul expanded like it hadn't done in several months. Maybe a year. It felt like whatever was out there was right there, always within reach, accessible anytime I woke up and realized who I really was and how I related to the world. When I began to breathe in the love that was all around me, I became connected to that love. And I remembered that love was my true home. My origin. The essence of my being. And I came home.

I have since cycled at least once more through a spiritual high and low. And I'm happy to say the lows are getting higher over time. I feel like I have no idea where I am headed, but I'm very happy about where my path has been taking me. I don't know where it will take me next, but I feel a deep sense of faith and trust that the path is good. And though I can't see very far ahead, I feel like I'll know where to step if I just pay attention.

Based on my recent experiences, I think maybe that's the essence of spirituality. Attention. Awareness. Consciousness. Built upon a foundation of love and compassion. And all of that leads to connection.

Love is central to it all. And I think maybe it's who we really are. If God is love (1 John 4:8,16), and we are children of God, then ... maybe we are love. And if love is all around us, then we're all deeply connected. Much more deeply, I now believe, than I had ever supposed as a child or a young man. If we are all made of love and we're all surrounded by love, then we're all swimming in the same stuff. And it's the same primordial stuff that makes us who we are. So we're all connected. And that connection, which already exists, seems to be the only thing the soul really craves.

So we already have everything we need (connection). We already are everything we need to be (love). All we need to do is wake up and see it.

Are Mormons Christians?

I was raised in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormon church). I studied and practiced that faith for nearly forty years. I'm not active in that church anymore. In fact, I don't believe in the doctrines of the church anymore, though I did for most of my life.

I was thinking about the claim that some people make that Mormons aren't Christians, and I thought I might tackle that today. Because of my background, I have some knowledge on the subject. And because I no longer believe in the church's teachings, I hope I may be seen as unbiased.

Background

For as long as I can remember, I have heard people claim that Mormons are not Christians. As far as I can tell, the logic typically goes like this: Mormon doctrines and teachings are in direct opposition to the Bible, the Nicene creed, or something similar. Mormons therefore worship a Jesus who is not the Jesus of the Bible. Therefore, Mormons are not Christians.

An alternative argument says that Mormons worship something or someone other than Jesus. Some claim that Mormonism was founded by the devil, so Mormons worship the devil. Others say that Mormons worship Joseph Smith (the church's founder) and/or their current leaders. Any worship other than the worship of Jesus disqualifies them from being Christians.

These are two parallel chains of logic. Let's look at each one a little more closely.

Teachings in Opposition to the Bible, the Nicene creed, etc.

Some of the doctrines and teachings I have heard people use as justification for saying Mormons aren't Christians include the following:

1. Mormons deny salvation by grace alone
• Mormons tend to emphasize works more than many Protestant Christians
• Note that this accusation could be made against the Catholic church too
2. Mormons deny the inerrancy of the Bible
• If they deny the Bible is the perfect word of God, they are not true Christians
3. Mormons teach that they can become gods
• This denies the supremacy of God, Jesus Christ, etc
• There is nothing in the Bible that corroborates this teaching
• There are various other doctrinal differences that people may use to justify their claim, but this is one of the most powerful and compelling

Mormons Worship the Devil, Joseph Smith, etc.

Some of the attacks on Mormons in the last 40 years or so claim that the miraculous events associated with the early Mormon church were facilitated by the power of the devil. Thus, the Mormons follow and/or worship the devil.

The Mormon Church often emphasizes the priesthood authority held by its leaders. Hymns such as "Praise to the Man", a stirring song written in praise of Joseph Smith, seem to support the idea that Mormons worship their founder. If you watch General Conference, you can see that same reverence and respect directed toward the current leader of the Church, whoever he may be at the time. The respect that Mormons have for their leader(s) has often been taken as a sign that Mormons worship those men.

My Take on These Claims

The doctrinal differences can be disturbing for those who don't share the Mormon view on them. We could talk about each of them, but instead of trying to explain the Mormon teachings, I think I'll just point out the danger of the logic that says that a doctrinal difference justifies me in stripping someone else of their claim to be a Christian.

The Nicene creed is an important marker in the development of Christian theology, but is it the standard by which we should measure the Christianity of any person or group? The Bible is a more reasonable standard, but the different doctrines of various denominations (some of which openly conflict with one another) have all been founded on the Bible. These differences, all with biblical justification, have led Christians to persecute and kill each other at different times in history. So using the Bible as the standard by which we judge the Christianity of any movement is a bit dangerous. The Bible is broad enough that different people can find different meanings in the same passages. For every doctrine mentioned above, and many others taught by the Mormon church, I can find Biblical passages that could be construed as supporting it. You can disagree with the interpretation, but it's reasonable for someone who believes the principle to read the support of that principle in those passages. Yes, even the teaching that humans, as God's children, can grow up to be like Him, can be justified by the Bible. See Psalm 82:6 and John 10:34-36. Again, you can disagree with the interpretation, but if you read those with an open mind, I think you'll see my point.

As far as Mormons worshiping something or someone other than Christ, that is certainly possible. Just as possible as it is for any professing Christian to have someone or something in their life that takes precedence over the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. Do Mormons worship the devil? Not as far as I can tell. It could be that some people have done so at different times in history. Who knows? But as an organization, the church is anything but satanic. Do Mormons worship their leaders? This is far more likely. There have been times in the church's history when the mission of Joseph Smith and the authority of a living prophet have been emphasized as a way to differentiate the church from other Christian churches. True Christianity may have waxed and waned in the church as a result of this and other doctrinal and cultural trends. But a study of the teachings and people in the church from the founding of the church in 1830 tells me that the major undercurrent of the entire religious movement is, and always has been, faith in Jesus Christ and His redemptive sacrifice. That seems like sufficient justification for claiming the title of Christian.

Christianity in Mormonism

Mormons pray to God in the name of Jesus Christ. They take the sacrament weekly in remembrance of the body and blood of Jesus Christ. They believe in the Bible, though they have concerns about mis-translations, pedigree of manuscripts, etc. They also believe in other scripture, most notably the Book of Mormon, whose subtitle is "Another Testament of Jesus Christ". They are called Mormons because of the name of this book, but the official name of the church is "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints", which has been the church's name since 1838. Note how many times I mentioned the name of Jesus Christ in these few, simple statements about the Mormon church's faith and practices.

As a practicing Mormon, the Christianity of the faith was central to my spiritual practice. Though I do not believe in the foundations of the faith anymore, I believe that adherence to the faith has the potential to improve peoples' lives and connect them with God.

The Mormon church isn't flawless. It has its warts like any other organization. But Jesus Christ is central to the church's teachings, and I think it's extremely disrespectful to suggest that the Mormon church is not a legitimate Christian church.

Respect for All Religions

All religions have good in them. All have the potential to improve peoples' lives. While religion can have a dark side, in general, I think it is a force for good in the world. It is the arrogance in religion that makes it unhealthy. The kind of arrogance that makes us confident enough in our understanding of truth to strip someone else's religion of its claim to a faith that is central to its doctrine.

The Mormon Church is a Christian church. And it does a lot of good for its people and, by extension, the world. Let's have respect for other peoples' faith, and allow them the freedom, both politically and morally, to worship as they think best. This kind of acceptance and tolerance will do them, and us, a lot of good.

Spirituality without Religion

A few years ago, I left the church I grew up in. For a while afterward, I sometimes wondered what that would mean for me as far as religion goes. I never had a strong desire to join a new church, but I did sometimes wonder if I should join a community that practiced meditation. I went to a Zen Center nearby a few times, and while it was great in a lot of ways, it didn't really click for me.

I'm not against the idea of joining a group again at some point, but I'm pretty happy with my independent spiritual journey for now.

That probably seems weird to some of you. What does spirituality mean without religion?

Religion is a conduit for spirituality. A spiritual connection to something outside yourself is an individual experience. If many people make a connection in some joint exercise, that can be really cool. But it isn't necessary.

Spirituality without religion is a bit like education without school. It would be ridiculous to suppose that education can't occur outside of school. I don't go to school anymore, but I learn new things all the time. And while I don't associate myself with a religion anymore, I often feel a spiritual connection to something outside myself.

Maybe that's ok. And maybe someday, I'll join a community of like-minded practitioners and see if that can help me progress even more. Or maybe not. We'll see.