Losing my Religion, Finding my Sacred Truth

My place of worship is not a church, temple or ashram.

It is at the shoreline where the earth and oceans meet;

It is under canopies of intertwined trees with grass underfoot;

It is under night skies with the moon and stars as stained glass windows.

Here – beyond walls and doors and dogma – I pray.

I do not kneel before one God.

I worship the Divine in all its forms -

Ganesha, Inanna, Mother Mary, Quan Yin;

Pebble, leaf, raindrop, bud;

My loved ones.

In each I find Source.

I do not limit myself to grape juice and wafers when taking communion.

I commune when I honor my body as a temple of the divine;

Make love with my beloved;

Sink into a bath with candles and oils;

Savor everything I eat;

Feel alive!

My hymns are the love songs I belt out on the freeway;

The music of my homeland that cause my hips to sway;

My morning shower tunes.

My spiritual teachers are a rowdy bunch of astrophysicists, mystics and bards;

Each offering a wisdom that transcends space and time;

And speaks to the sacred within me.

All this -

All this beauty of life,

I cut and paste into my book of scripture, that reads:

Life is bigger than the details of my experience.

Keep opening my heart.

Change is the only constant.

We are all made of stardust and we are all divine.

And above all, remember that we are all connected.

This is my sacred truth.

Photo by Rodney Campbell

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