As I sit down to write this I currently have a spaghetti squash and a head of garlic roasting in the oven. I am sucking on a peppermint. There is a small votive candle flickering beside me on the desk. I am shivering because I went for a run a bit earlier and I and the temperature outdoors are cooling down for the evening. I am intensely aware of how my body is interacting with this moment.
My dog just raced out the backdoor to bark at a neighbor who is moving his trash cans. I paused to go outside and coax him back in. Returning inside I noticed how the living room has become darker. I twist the two knobs to turn on the tiered lamp. Soft light enters in and my laptop screen adjusts accordingly.
I ran into someone recently who asked where I am now spiritually. I paused before answering, "I don't really think about it anymore, I suppose. I just get to live. I'm enjoying living."
How about that.
Later, relaying the conversation to my husband he rephrased it as, "The struggle is gone," and that is it exactly.
A few weeks ago I texted my friend Hillary Rain and told her how I'm glad That Thrashing Book and Spiritual Wanderings and Into the Dark Night and Blushing Wild were created when they were, because I couldn't write them now if I tried. There is never any thought or effort or struggle given to what used to be so painfully hard and time consuming. Anymore, spirituality is so interwoven with my daily aliveness that it is impossible to peel apart from my body as something singular to discuss. In fact, I don't even care to attempt it. It would involve personal dismemberment and to that I say a whopping, "No thank you!"
What my spiritual journey has taken me to is a place where everyday has mystery in it and I get to unearth it. Every day is different. Every day has challenges. Every day has celebrations. Every day has interpersonal relationships to navigate, but I am fully here for it all, committed to making it play out to my own enjoyment. This is where my magic and my art come into play. I notice. I document. I tweak the story. I apply the necessary crescendos and decrescendos. I point the spotlight. I make it dance. And I surround myself with others who are doing it too, and doing it well.
What is addressed in these quotes as great divine mystery or mystery, gets translated in my mind as Alice's "curiouser and curiouser." It is Alice following the White Rabbit.
My life is a wonder. I am coming alive to it. I am smelling garlic, hearing the dog bark, seeing the light fill the room, shivering from the cold, touching the keys of my laptop keyboard. Each and every day the details shift, but the aliveness expands.
I can't and won't catch you up on my spirituality, but I am one with it. It is in my Instagram feed. It is in my blog posts. It is in my courses and correspondence for The Magic School. It is in my zines. It is in my "real world" - the way I love my kids, my husband, my own body and my closest friends. It is the passion I have for my like-hearted audience (like you) and for the teachers and students at my elementary schools.
It all means something intimately to me, and that's another thing my husband and I talked about - spirituality has become so intimate. It's infused with my skin. I can't scrape it off and get someone a sample to investigate under a microscope. I can't speak in the languages I once thought spirituality was contained within. But if you just watch me and listen, I'm actively being alive. I'm not baffled. I'm not struggling. I'm doing as Mr. Batchelor says, cultivating my serene relationship with life, continuing to move forward through ebbs and flows, all the while following that wascally wabbit called wonder. I'm enjoying my experience of being fully human, and I'm getting better and better at it at a rapid pace.
Isn't it a wonder?
For your further followings of the white rabbit - here are the incredible On Being Podcasts quoted in this post: