Reclaiming Mystery and Wonder

I grew up in a secular Jewish household. My family went to temple twice a year. Day-to-day, there was no talk of the mystery of life. My dad was a pediatrician and my mom was a nurse. They saw life through the lens of observable fact and science. Though I was taken care of beautifully when it came to food, trips to Disney World, and dance classes, spiritually I think I was hungry.nnI once spent a whole day at summer camp with a girl who said she had an invisible friend. I leapt at the idea of a “being” that only we knew about. I went along with whatever she and her friend wanted to do. By day’s end, the girl told me she had been fooling me all along. She wondered why and how I could have bought her lie for so many hours. I guess she underestimated my need to believe. nnI didn’t like being a sucker and decided that searching to see things that are invisible is stupid. I developed into a perfectionist; I was a busy, straight A’s kind of kid. As a teen, I had a full load of honors classes, after school activities and a part-time job. I was high strung, hard working, and disconnected with myself. In college at UCLA, when others were finding a newfound freedom and rebelling against old ways of thinking, I remained dutiful, tightly wound, and serious. What a drag!nnThere was a nagging search still going on within me. I was intrigued by Native American spiritualism. I used to look towards anyone that was Native American as an all knowing mystical teacher. The last unsuspecting guy I laid this trip on was very confused. He thought I wanted a date, but I wanted him to wave a talking stick and feathers over me and pronounce me worthy. My fantasies were disappointed when I found out that his true aspiration was to play pro-golf. nnWith boyfriends, I also was looking for connection in all the wrong places. Seeking salvation, I wanted to dive back into the womb in some man’s arms. One boyfriend told me, “you’re too heavy,” and he certainly didn’t mean in pounds. I tried to persuade one poor guy that he loved me even though he insisted that he didn’t . What a humiliating conversation. “He just can’t admit it,” I told myself and dreamed up a new tactic to convince him to ‘fess up. It was madness. nnA few years out of college, thankfully, I snapped. I was underemployed, lonely, and broke. Eventually, I couldn’t get out of bed, rent was due, and I had no idea what to do. In a wonderful moment of clarity, I finally understood that I was in trouble and wasn’t ever going to be able to think my way out of it. And so I began the aching sweet path to healing in therapy, self help groups, books and new friends. One day I was given the book, The Celestine Prophecy , and I didn’t just read it, I devoured it. It was a re-awakening.nnTentatively, I began to explore, and the mystical, curious child within me was let out to play. I collected crystals for a while and was intrigued by the possibility that they had spiritual properties. I attended women’s rituals to celebrate the seasons. I received psychic readings and energy work massages. At different times I studied the lessons written by Paramahansa Yogananda and the channeled Pathwork lectures. And I immersed myself in more wonderful books like The Artist’s Way. These were real feats for this daughter of Western thought. n nToday, to connect I write, pray, and dance. My most challenging practice is a mental discipline that I call framing. I believe that I’m given a choice how to interpret what happens to me. I can frame a situation as negative proof that I’m an unworthy failure, or I can choose to see it through a lens of kindness. What would a compassionate tender Go d choose for me?nnTwo weeks ago, I was feeling abundant and bought myself some quality luggage. Within days of the purchase, my satchel was stolen along with my driver’s license, credit cards, cell phone, and cash. It was very easy for me to think nasty thoughts like, “I’ll never get ahead”, “I’m fooling myself,” or “it serves me right.” I chose instead to notice what was actually happening around me. nnThe hotel where I was staying treated me to a big breakfast. While teaching my class I felt loose, outrageous, and entertaining. After work, the police station was convenient to drive to, and the police officer who took my report was gorgeous. My mom helped me out by faxing the copy of my birth certificate that I needed to board a plane the next day. My colleague let me use her cell phone for as long as I needed. The next hotel we stayed at offered us executive perks, a chocolate chip cookie, and the richness went on and on. The stolen satchel became a lesson for me in self forgiveness, in receiving grace, and a chance to see myself keeping a clear head in a crisis. That’s framing.nnThis week I’m celebrating ten years in my spiritual self help group. In that time, my career has blossomed from receptionist to international public speaker. Tomorrow evening I leave on a dream adventure to the United Kingdom. I will speak in front of hundreds of people, and I’ll see the sights. Do I see this as connected to my path towards God? I do, I do, I do!n