I will be bliss

Hey Team,

I presently work for a sports-themed organization, hence everyone is part of the Team now.

It’s been a minute since I’ve taken thought to keyboard like this, but that’s because much has been brewing in my mind. And, well, much has been brewing in the world in general for the past year. So much has been brewing that we are now left to discern: WTF happened in 2020? What is still happening in 2021? And, where the !@#$ do we go from here?

Let’s start with the former: WTF happened in 2020?

Quite frankly, too much. But also, just enough. Just enough to shake, rattle, and roll us. Enough to knock us off our feet and out of our socks so that, as a humanity, as a collective, we start waking up. I believe this is where the world is headed (waking up, that is). Modern day society is currently juggling too much data, too much information, and too much sharing of such, that this data and information is rapidly transmuting into new knowledge and wisdom within our cute, little human minds. This acceleration of information sharing and transmutation is, essentially, requiring us to wake up (become aware, that is). By waking up, I mean to say, becoming aware. Waking up is becoming aware of who and what we are as divine, sovereign beings. It’s understanding ourselves and our truest nature in such a way that we then get to ponder and answer the succeeding question: why are we here?

Why are we here? 

Why are we here?

Why are we here?

Who are we, anyway? And what is the purpose of existence, anyway?

When it comes to this concept of waking up, some of us are missing the mark. Some of us, as Ekhart Tolle would say, are “sinning.” We think that waking up is a political party, a social cause, a science textbook, or maybe a weekly power yoga class. We think waking up is a covid relief bill or a tax cut. We think it’s conspiracy or economics. We think that waking up is something that causes us more anger, more frustration, more fighting, and more eternally fixing. Change in the aftermath of consciousness expansion is needed and appreciated, but the systemic change part is not the actual waking up part. It’s not because waking up tends to transcend the extremes–literally, figuratively… subjectively… objectively…

In actuality, the concept of waking up can be rather simple. It’s knowing and understanding the truth of who and what you are, in whichever way, and at whatever capacity, and through whatever belief-set, that fits best for you. It’s answering the questions who am I and why am I here with such immaculate certainty that aligning with and achieving your purpose (and I use purpose cautiously and for lack of a better word) is as natural and innate as falling asleep at night. Addressing industrialized corruption, although important, is slightly different from awakening to the spirit within.

If you can’t tell by now, I’m an avid fan of collective, conscious evolution. Which has led me to reflect on a quite polarizing topic: religion. Because, aren’t but the questions associated with awakening the same daunting and ominous unknowns that religion seeks to answer? Aren’t these the humanly woes that give rise to public comfort in and practice of Christianity and Judaism and Buddhism and Taoism? Does not religion pose answers to these grandiose mysteries of self-identification and purposeful living? So, if we are waking up as a collective, should we not all be embracing an institution that guides us in this direction instead of wallowing in nihilism?

It is my historical understanding that religion attempts to provide a faith-based approach to our existential questions. It creates the infrastructure-the dogma and doctrine-for the reasons behind human existing and living. It tells us of creation, aligns us with morals, and gives us a sense of purpose. And it tells us to believe–in God? in Angels? in an omnipotent presence more powerful than life-giving breathe itself?

Since I’m fascinated by conscious evolution, I’m also fascinated by religion, and its evolution–a fascination that stems from a formerly tricky relationship with it (with God (with the Bible (with Wednesday School, specifically)).

Just as it has taken a minute to get these ten digits on top of a keyboard again, it took a minute or 10,512,000 for organized religion to resonate. This is so because as strong and mighty as its marketing strategy is, religion never did logically answer my questions about life. More so, religion never seemed to care that I had questions. It knew that curiosity killed the cat, and sought to lecture and preach, but never foster the human’s intrinsic, and incredibly nuanced and personal journey of inquisition and discovery. Religion wanted my blind faith. Yet, little did it know, I had none to give. I wasn’t interested in blind. I was interested in clarity–seeing, understanding, and knowing–who am I and why am I here?

I also say my relationship with religion was tricky because, in my attempt to understand its significance, I, like many, was faced with a caveat–there existed a bouquet of religions and theological belief-sets in the world. More than one religion?! More than one explanation of creation, morality, and purpose?

Differing opinions are far from uncommon on this planet. But, so we accept them as such–opinions. Some things are not opinions, like two plus two equals four, and forks go great with salads. When it comes to religion, however, we lack this acceptance as either universal agreement or personal opinion. Christianity is not universally agreed upon, nor is it seen entirely as a personal opinion. In my experience, there is a stigma of the (unawakened) good-Christian belief-set that argues Christianity as the right way, the holy way, the admirable way, the called upon way, and the only way (the way to God, that is).

As if there exists one best way to God…

As if there exists one best way to pray…

As if there exists one best way to connect with a universal source of divinity and grace…

To set you straight, there are roughly 4,300 ways. Yes, there are roughly 4,300 active religions in the world today. Sure, you’re right, there are 12 major religions, but that is not to exclude the impact of the 4,288 others. Let this sink in: there are 4,300 theologies that all claim to explain the correct definitions of creation, morality, and purpose. Furthermore, each explanation is deemed righteous and affirmative by its believers. Many of these believers are adamant about the correctness of their definition of God. The correctness of what it means to be good and worthy. The correctness of the meaning of life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to knock the beliefs of others. I’m simply trying to shed light on the ludicrousness of establishing a single belief-set as the correct standard for all of humanity. With math and silverware this may make sense. With walking the Red Road and spiritual evolution, it does not.

The greats and the masters and the Buddhas are cognizant and appreciative of all religions, of all ways to God. I similarly believe, the more data and information that we share and transmute through technology, the less isolated and ignorant our beliefs become, the more we reflect the minds of the greats and the masters and the great masters, and the more cognizant and appreciative of all religions we also become. The more our world enters into a global union, and the less divided, separated, fearful, and hateful we are. The more we respect and honor our vast differences among our species, but also the more we have opportunities to unite in a universal similarity–the similarity of simply being human. (Wishful utopia, amiright?)

As we enjoy our front row seats to the making of this globalization, we, for better or worse, get to watch organized religion in the Western world take its toll. (Check it: https://www.pewforum.org/2019/10/17/in-u-s-decline-of-christianity-continues-at-rapid-pace/).

But, as the faithful following of Christianity declines, our existential yearnings scream louder than ever. We still crave an understanding of our earliest origins, a framework for our morals, and a general meaning to the madness. Who are we, anyway? And what is the purpose of existence, anyway?

In this bottomless search for faith, some of us choose the modern-day, mainstream alternatives: evidence-based solutions, political and social activism, wellness personas, or the commercialized new age. Instead of Christianity, maybe we call it science, democracy, justice, and woke-ness. (Yes, Connie, I’m generalizing to make a point. Roll with it.)

But does this work? Does this shift in our cultural narrative answer our questions about creation, morality, and purpose? Or does it form another institution where manipulation and oppression have the ability to run rampant? What does a decline in organized religion truly mean for our nation? For our United Nations? 

Just because religion is on the decline does not mean we get to escape the existential parts of life. How would this serve us anyway? Escape requires a loss of free will, a surrender of cognition, and a departure from, as my Bible study group leader would say, “moral autonomy.”

Escaping cannot be the case. We are humans. We ideate. We rationalize. We triage. We suffer. We trust. We believe. We awaken. Through it all, we oftentimes feel a teensy bit, or a lotsy bit, lost and alone.

Oh, did anyone happen to catch the subtle explanation of humanity’s free will in decision-making as “moral autonomy” by my Bible study leader?

That’s correct, I’m in Bible study now. So unlike me, I know, to be reading the Bible and talking about God in this setting. But it is true–my questions and concerns about religion guided me to a weekly Burning Bush Communities led Bible study group.

It’s actually not much of a shock that I found myself on Zoom calls with my family and our leader, John, interpreting Genesis. I read excessive new age philosophy that references and quotes the Bible that ultimately I became tired of piecing it together from someone else’s viewpoint. I was ready to go directly to the source, to this holy document, to learn myself. I was finally ready for the hype of this socially transformative world religion to be revealed. And, I was equally curious to see beyond the supposed, maybe stigma-ed, manipulation and oppression of the text, and figure out its importance on my own terms.

Which, is how I found myself at the Christ Centered Life Store with my father at one of our local strip malls, feeling the leather bound bindings of the ESV and New Living Translation Bibles to select the most resonant one.

And then, a week later, my Dad, stepmother, grandmother and I, along with other family across the country, gathered around an 11″ computer screen to meet John.

Our hodgepodge of a group was all at various stages of Bible inception, interpretation, indoctrination, and devotion. Some of us found Jesus at 9 years old, others were more recent disciples, and some even were heavy skeptics. John was impressed with our desire to approach the messiness of the Bible as a familial entity, especially with our varied interests and backgrounds on the topic. But, John himself has also been through the stages of his own theological awakening. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Christianity was a standard for him in youth, a confusion in young adulthood, and a reprieve once he was able to connect the dots later in life. John’s story felt familiar. John didn’t seem into blind faith either. For, how can there be strength in divinity if sovereignty’s intentions are not questioned first? John had questions, and someone, somewhere had answered them. Maybe he would do the same for me?

Immediately, John’s mindset challenged the old dogs, and tickled the unadulterated. He related Bible versus to genres, like poetry and prose, novel and essay. He gifted us with narratives and notes about the Babylonian creation story, and probed us with questions about its significance in relation. Delicately, John was incorporating a holistic worldview of the text into our personal interpretations. He dragged us into the weeds, just to pull back and deliver thought-provoking questions about the broader picture. His method was gratitude worthy. And each session, he left us with overarching thematic questions about the chapters, like:

What do we know of God? 

What do we know of People?

What do we know of the World?

I liked this broad picture he was painting. I felt comfortable in the broad picture. I always did resonate with the forest. I could answer John’s high-level questions in the blink of an eye.

What do we know of God? [He] was concerned for our well-being

What do we know of People? We were built for connection.

What do we know of the World? It’s incredibly robust.

Thinking of the Bible like such made it not so scary. It made God sound caring. It made people sound promising. And it made the world sound limitless. When you interpret Adam and Eve as poetry, it can suddenly mean anything you want it to mean, truly. Cultural meanings shift as cultural narratives shift (i.e. ambition used to be a dirty word, and now it’s admirable). It saddens me that overtime, the majority (although subconscious) opinion adopted a negative interpretation of these fables. Looking back, the Bible wasn’t to blame–the unconscious, unawakened human mind was to blame. And suddenly, moving forward it felt off to denounce the Bible because of “woke-ness” or “science” or “separation of church and state.” These felt like excuses, like denial due to lack of deeper understanding, not Christ Consciousness. Cancelling religion in my life felt narrow-minded, like the result of a bad taste left in someone’s mouth after one of Jesus’ profound teachings got lost in translation, and not a special superpower to see beyond the fog.

In the early 20th Century, honest faith in God didn’t skip a beat. Maya Angelou is a perfect example of this. Edgar Casey, the serendipitous instigator of the New Age movement–a man who read the Bible once for each year of his life–is another. Michael Singer and Eckart Tolle pay their respective respects to Jesus. Other of my favorite (more extreme) spiritualists, like Jerry Sargeant and Elizabeth April, speak of Jesus in the highest regard. Even more down-to-earth thought leaders, like Christina Lopes, Marianne Williamson, and Oprah have their personal relationships with religious symbols. So then, where is this modern-day disconnect, and borderline disgust of religious entities, coming from?

The easy answer is: History. Colonialism. War. Genocide. Or in other words, blind faith.

But, as always, there’s more to the story.

Bible study started somewhat strong for me, but I do admit, overtime it became lackluster. During our sessions, I became increasingly lost in the fantasies of my daydreams, just as had happened in Wednesday School 10,512,000 minutes ago. The energy felt dull, our group seemed confused, and as a whole, it seemed as though we were all still missing the mark. For some, bitterness started seeping through. Others were hungry for literal meaning among the weeds. And some of the remainder preferred a relationship with Jesus in the New Testament. And me–I began to feel drained and angry myself, not connected and enlightened like had been the case after other spiritual practices. Did this formal and fixed framework to find, know, and connect to God really work for people in the long-run? The more mundane and obnoxiously semantic the literary analysis of Genesis became, the more my mind wandered to a different spiritually empowering experience in my life–new moon circles.

If you read my last post, There’s Snow in the Desert, you may know that I was living and working on a community farm in Hawaii at the start of 2020. One thing you may not know is the immediate, enigmatic connection I had to a group of organically beautiful, inside and out, young-adult woman–a connection that entirely took me by surprise. Before traveling to Hawaii, I anticipated deeper self-exploration, introspection, and personal reflection. Instead, I was blessed with these women who taught me through outward expression and vocalization. I learned about myself, not by going inward, but by observing what these women brought out in me and what they inspired me to become. Through their projections, I learned how to live deeper, live free-er, and feel safer within the larger unknowns of life. These girls–these “witches”, as we coined ourselves–became my back bone in Hawaii. Every day in the fields, we pretended to fulfill our harvesting duties, but instead chatted of everything but organics. We spoke of energy and the chakras, addiction and aliens, psychedelics and the mind, our past lives and soul mates, mental illness and childhood, bad choices and hopeful realities, spontaneous awakenings and the grid. We spoke as if we were healers, scholars, philosophers, scientists, honorable gurus, innocent children, and twenty-something-year-old, wild, wonderful women. We spoke as if we were sisters, friends, highly evolved earthly beings honoring celestial soul contracts. We spoke of our really hard times, and then we laughed hysterically at nothing at all. And, once a month, we spoke during the moon.

When the moon’s final crescent sliver of pearly cream waned into the black, night sky, the witches at Mouna Farm gathered in a circle, with our hearts, our souls, and our thoughts. These new moon circles were a form of ceremony, ritual, that allowed for us women to support each other, express our worries, transmute our pains, share our insights, embrace one another’s auras, and further love and understand our own selves. It was a time for vulnerability, humility, and lowered inhibitions. We cleansed our energies, planted seeds for our expansions, and revealed our gratitudes. During each ritual, we always honored Mother Earth, called in the Cosmos, and acknowledged the Four Directions. We brought up the ‘Āina, pulled down the Grandfather, and activated our heart centers. There was no “God almighty” in a new moon circle, but there was a similar feeling of connection to grandeur and omniscient forces. There was less blindly following, and more intrinsic seeing, understanding, and knowing our inherent unity. There was no convolution over semantics and lyrical metaphor. There was no lost in translation. There was, however, to put it in new moon terms, divine ecstasy. More community, less complexity. More togetherness, less perfectionist. More love, less judgement. More recognition, acceptance, and support, less confession, repentance, and shame.

Lost in my daydream, it dawned on me: This is why religion (God (the Bible (Wednesday School))) wasn’t fully resonating with me.

Which leads us into the latter–now that 2020 is officially over, where the !@#$ do we go from here?

The easy answer is: Communication. Creation. Community. Conscious seeing, understanding, and knowing.

We must establish better communication between one another. War, genocide, colonialism–they all spawn from our inabilities to effectively communicate cross-culturally. Instead of taking the time to understand one another and learn from one another, we forge ahead with our own power struggles and ideals, and leave minor wiggle room for honest, transparent communication. We must be cognizant and aware of how we create our future. We must open our hearts and minds and create in a way the empowers and heals versus closes doors and cancels. The new way is holistic liberation, the old way is excessive limitation. We must communicate and create in order to build healthy communities–communities where all beings have access to safety, and eventually, self-actualization. We also must operate consciously. We must know who we are and why we are here if we want to live in this romantic, conscious society.

As a conscious society, we must recognize that there are 7 billion ways to God, to find God, to connect to God. There are 7 billion ways because each individual has their own path, their own journey to the divine. There are 4,300 religions because kindred spirits share similar paths to this universal entity. There are 12 major religions because clearly we yearn for stable infrastructure that qualms our existential fears. But, it is not God itself that we need to cancel, it’s our mental, social, emotional, and spiritual relationships with religious symbols and ancient texts that needs awareness and awakening.

Hey Court, where does activism fit into all of this?

I’ll bring in activism for a brief moment because activism, activist groups and communities, provide us a similar purpose and belonging that religion does. Through activism we unite on shared cultural narratives, morals and belief-sets, and visions for the future. But, I mention this because just as religion has become an institution plagued by human faults, Civil Rights, Women’s Rights, Environmental Rights, Human Rights, and other forms of justice and equity could all become institutions too… if we remain blind. Don’t get me wrong, I stand whole-heartedly with my Sister Suffragettes and recognize how imperative social justice is for the health of individuals, communities, and the greater world. When it comes to activism, I speak of incredibly nuanced circumstances. However, I still find it important to consider that coinciding with a possible decline in spiritual connection, activist movements, if not careful, have the propensity to fill a void within our incomplete selves, leaving them easy victims of humanity’s weak spot–our collective, subconscious ego. Though critical for evolution, and overall well-intentioned, justice movements do not necessarily negate the possible permeation of fear, greed, and opportunistic control within their operations. A perfect, metaphorical example of this is The Hunger Games.

At some point in the healing process, we need positivity. Sure, anger and grief and frustration and sadness are all necessary, if not mandatory, for transcendence. But, to sustain empowerment and healing, we must create in empowering, positive ways that actually do heal, instead of keeping us trapped in our anger, grief, frustration, and sadness. The same human faults that tainted religion will taint whatever emerges as a successor if we are not careful. We already see some of this today in spiritual bypassing, virtue signaling, and idol worshiping.

If we don’t awaken… history will continue to repeat itself. Time and time and time again.

If we do awaken… we could, quite possibly, reach a collective self-actualization one day.

To reach it, we still need creation, morality, and purpose. We need something that helps us decipher who we are and why we are here. You can call it God. Or you can call it the Universe, Spirit, Source, or Prime Creator. Or you can call it Tao, Qi, or Mana. It sounds different to different individuals, but it feels the same to all of us. It feels the same because it is all another name for Love. And the opportunity of existence is the opportunity to know this connection to Love. Bible study and new moon circles, they are just tools. They are tools to help us further our connections to ourselves, each other, and the mystical.

I’m not here to preach astrological circles over study groups. Nor am I here to vouch God over Atheism, or Science over Faith, or Buddhism over Christianity. There’s always a lesson you can learn from the other side—one being that the other side is an illusion. Although it wasn’t for me, my family is still finding their way in Bible study with John (who is amazing). Although maybe not for them, I still continue moon circles with my witches when we can.

The moral of this story is: whatever fable of creation, morality, and purpose you choose to live your life by, make sure it’s awakened, it’s conscious, it’s accompanied by a seeing, understanding, and knowing of who you are and why you are here. Make sure you’re respectful of your own journey, as well as others. On this path to inquisition, you may notice the revelations lead to a straightforward, simple answer (love, to love, and to be love, that is).

XXOO,