Spiritual Biography
I am a writer; I like to write what I feel and what I see in the moment. So when I was asked to write this spiritual biography it challenged me. When I put a “should” in my space, I feel my body and mind rejecting it. Ironically, I think that awareness about “shoulds” is part of my spiritual biography.
Somewhere along my childhood journey, I told myself a story. The story was that I “should” do things. I should clean my room. I should clean my plate. I should do well in school. I should always listen to my elders. The “shoulds” matured with me as I grew older. I should go to college. I should study something that will provide a lucrative career. I should have a thin body. I should get married. I should be a mother. I should put my husband’s career ahead of mine. I should put my family’s needs ahead of my own.
I grew up in a Jewish family. I went to Hebrew school and Sunday school. I studied Hebrew. I had a Bat Mitzvah. All of these activities were on the “should” list. I never felt a strong passion for the religious philosophies of Judaism. I was there because those generations before me were there. I felt kind of neutral around Judaism. I did agree with the 10 commandments except maybe the ones about honoring God. I didn’t want to dishonor God; I just felt indifferent. To me, this “God” didn’t deserve any special connection. My community deserved more connection. I saw death as an end, not a reckoning. There is no Jewish heaven, so I had no concerns about “meeting my maker.”
As I continued into my adult life, I kept up my “shoulds.” I often felt like I was on a hamster wheel. I was always pushing to be the better wife, be the better employee, have the better body, be the better mother. I was tired and frazzled, juggling too many parts of life, and none of them seemed to fill my cup. Not only was I exhausted, but I was holding myself to a ridiculous standard. While I didn’t hold others to the same standards, I still left little space for those around me who didn’t follow the same “should” path.
About 10 years ago, things started to change. That probably isn’t true. Things started to change before that, but I didn’t really notice until about 10 years ago. 10 years ago, I stood up and really asked myself, “What is it that you want in life? Do you want this marriage where you are always feeling that you ‘should’ be doing something else to make it work? Do you want to always be putting yourself second? Or fifth (behind the kids)?”
I got divorced, and that’s when I started questioning what I was doing in my life. Why wasn’t I putting myself first? Why wasn’t I taking a moment to breathe? I know now that when I take a moment to breathe, I can check in with myself and my body before choosing what direction to go in. I was almost 50 when I made this realization, so I’m still not perfect at it. But it takes time to undo 50 years of practice. Even then, I will often pull a human. I will often forget the new awareness of myself.
Six years ago, I moved 40 miles south to my current home. It was the first time in 52 years that I was choosing a home for myself, all by myself. While the move might seem to be an insignificant distance (when I was married I moved 4,000 miles across the Atlantic for my husband’s career), it made all the difference in the world for my spirituality. Because it was here in Salt Lake City that I formally discovered Buddhism.
Being a “JewBu” (Jewish Buddhist) is not so strange. There are plenty of famous JewBus: Mandy Patinkin, Goldie Hawn, Leonard Cohen, and Allen Ginsburg are all JewBus. When I first discovered Buddhism, I stumbled upon it. About 18 months after I had moved to Salt Lake City, I started going to a yoga class in an unfamiliar studio. When the class was over, a new group of people came into the studio and started setting cushions on the floor, along with an eastern-looking alter in the front of the room. I was curious as to what would happen next. I stayed and found out it was a Buddhist gathering. Initially, I bristled at the idea. I mean, I never felt very connected to the religious practices of my childhood. I didn’t want to stay because I “should.” I did stay though. I found the experience fascinating. Here were people sitting in a room together where they chanted together, sang together, meditated together, and listened to the group leader talk about a philosophy I had never formally heard before. The words they received were not like the ones I had received in my religious practices. No one was “shoulding” anything. Instead they were talking about accepting their humanness and the humanness of those around them. They even spoke of accepting the humanness of strangers. When the leader finished speaking, the audience was invited to provide their personal reaction to the message. They were even invited to share their disagreements with the concepts being shared. Honestly, my mind was blown. I had never heard of a religion where I could so freely speak my mind.
I decided to return the next week. I wasn’t going to “become” a Buddhist or anything; I was just going to go and listen again. I didn’t share my thoughts, I didn’t introduce myself to anyone. I just stayed to listen. Again, I was pleasantly surprised. I felt as if I had just jumped into a cool spring in the mountains. It was so refreshing and peaceful. The people were so friendly! I was taken aback. I found them to seem almost too friendly. Yet, I continued to return to the weekly practice.
A month or two later, something happened. Someone invited me to a breakfast or a hike on a Sunday morning. I don’t remember what the event was, but I remember I turned them down. I remember thinking, “No, that Sangha gathering thing was more important than going to some social event. I’m going to have to pass.” What? I was actually choosing to go to a religious ceremony. I wanted to learn more about the Dharma - the teachings of the Buddha. While my heart never resonated with the the “thou shall” of Western religions, the Eightfold Path of Buddhism touched my soul with its “practices.” With practice, I am doing my best in the moment. If I stumble, I can get back up. My Sangha will support me. I felt safe. I felt I had arrived in a space that I could be vulnerable and authentic. I had been waiting my entire life to be vulnerable and authentic. The true me takes off the “should” coat when I enter the space with my Sangha and we study the Buddha’s teachings in the Dharma.
I continued to visit with the Salt Lake Buddhist Fellowship. I joined bookclubs. I started speaking up during the gatherings and sharing my own thoughts and feelings. I started to recognize my own “idiot compassion,” the behavior I practiced when I put others’ concerns ahead of my own. I started to look at my life “in the moment,” rather than worrying about the past and future. I took a recommendation from a fellow Sangha member and started volunteering with hospice dementia patients so that I could better learn to accept the inevitability of death. I started to drop the expectations I had on myself and in turn, I started to drop the expectations I had on others.
During my second year with the fellowship, I went on their silent weekend retreat. There I learned a lot about myself and my connection to the earth. I truly felt my oneness with all the beings on the planet and with the planet itself. I realized that I have had many experiences in my life, but those experiences did not define who I am as a person. I also got to witness a Ti Sarana Ceremony. This ceremony is the opportunity for someone studying Buddhism to publicly present their commitment to Buddhism. As a witness, I thought it was a beautiful ceremony and a “hell no” for me. I had already had a Bat Mitzvah over 40 years earlier. I wasn’t going to hitch my wagon to any religious commitment. I liked my Buddhism just as it was. The fellowship’s mantra of “Come as You Are,” to me meant I didn’t have to go through a Ti Sarana ceremony to continue my connection. That was okay by me.
Flash-forward over 3 years since the day that I stayed to listen to the teachings of the Buddha for the first time. I still attend the Sunday gatherings, but with COVID they look very different. We meet mostly on Zoom now. Thanks to the cruel adversity of COVID, we now sit for meditation every day. Through the challenges that COVID brought to my life and the lives of those around me, I still sit with the fellowship. I am grateful for the last 16 months of online daily meditation. I’ve had the opportunity to lead the meditation sessions over 100 times now. Through leading and listening to the other leaders, I receive a daily dose of dharma teachings. Listening to my fellow meditators share their awareness, I’ve become even more connected to the community and the teachings. Similar to that day when I said, “No I can’t go do some social thing with you. I have Buddhist Fellowship,” today I am saying, “No I don’t want to sit on the sidelines. Today I want to be part of the Ti Sarana Ceremony. Today, I want to declare my commitment and connection to Buddhism and the Sangha that supports me.” So here I go. Diving into that cool spring in the mountains once again.
