I've had a running joke with my friends that "I don't believe in atheists." I like to think that this is an original line but it's really my take on "There are no atheists in the foxhole." What I really mean is that when things are out of someone's control, especially when imminent danger is involved, they pray to God/Goddess/the Universe/the Divine. They never actually lack belief, it is just buried under a lack of experience. In moments of distress, we realize that we need a connection to the greater power but this is true for all times, not just when things go really, really badly.
If you step back for a second - something I suggest everyone does regularly - you can appreciate the care that went into writing a bad-ass book entitled If You Have to Cry Go Outside and including chapters on spirituality. Even the wisest of go-getters forget their spiritual self on a journey of professional success. Most opt for back-to-back nights of binge drinking, clubbing and shopping. As hard as they try to make the most of their 20s in the most conventional, Hollywood teen comedy way, most don't take the time to check in with themselves to see if their choices actually make them happy, and instead emerge empty and burn-out on their job. They simply don't bother pursuing spiritually nourishing experiences. Worship at the altar of superficial desires is a short, exhausting service.
I knew that someone as accomplished as Kelly would have some sort of spiritual routine, likely integrated into her daily life. Most successful people do. One of the executives at my old company, with a reputation for being cutthroat, once told me in the elevator that he started every day with a glass of white wine and an hour long yoga session. He said it has kept him sane through decades of volatility in the commodities markets. What he gained from his spiritual practice of choice trickled down to his workday behaviours. Having a little space for spiritual rejuvenation in your day, in whatever format jives with you, is the best advice least given.
When I started reading the chapter The Truth Hurts: When Did Spiritual Becomes Equated with Nice? I expected Kelly to advise abandonment of all religions for the same reason Christopher Hitchens did. They lead to conflict, oppression of minorities and disrupt social and economic progress. It was heartwarming to know that Kelly instead suggests exploring all religions (organized or not) and drawing from them a wisdom to build your own spiritual experience. We tend to believe that organized religion is for our grandparents and is usually practiced on a fixed day of the week at a predetermined location. Religion isn't about what happens after we die but how we live. I do believe that all religions are worth exploring from that perspective but if we are forging unique personal and professional paths, why shouldn't our spiritual experiences be tailor made?
I believe that a connection with the Divine, by whichever one of those names you want to call it, is an essential part of maintaining your humanity. The Divine wants to connect with you as much as you want to connect with it and likely even more. I never lashed out at an intern or analyst, I never told off my boss, I never slammed the phone and I never cried in the office (you'd be shocked at how many people in high ranking positions do all of those in a day!) and all the while I did excellent work. I give full credit to spiritual experiences that created within me a divine connection to which I could retreat in times of trouble.
What I am striving to describe here is Kelly's step #8 to starting your own religion: "Incorporate conscious contact with the Divine into your daily life." Instead of attending organized worship, I sought out experiences that brought me closer to the Divine and expanded my social stamina (read: kept me sane). Before I even graduated, I went on a six month exchange to a school in Norway just so I could live among the fjords. While working in Toronto, I went to theatre productions and my friend's inspirational stand up comedy shows (Words to Laugh By). When I could work out of the office on the weekend, I spent hours on my laptop hammering out client presentations and press releases in the rooms of the Art Gallery of Ontario surrounded by prized paintings. You can find little sanctuaries for yourself without leaving town.
On vacation, I opted for natural experiences. One year, I swam with sharks in the Bahamas. I've been to Kauai three times (twice alone, once on my honeymoon, and I can't wait to go again) and every time I dedicate a day to a very wet four mile hike along the Na'Pali coast ending in a freezing dip in the Hanakapi'ai waterfall. The first vacation my husband and I took together was to the Cayman Islands. There we went scuba diving 100 ft below surface to hang off the North Wall, a 25,000 ft drop straight down into the ocean. These were the moments when I felt closest to God and that closeness translated into strength to handle my job, my family and tragic world events with composure. It set a standard for how I treated people and how I expected them to treat me. It recharged my battery and gave me the energy to be a better, more patient person to those whom I loved and gave me the courage to part ways with those who simply drained me.
What my generation forgets is the importance of doing the things that make you happy as opposed to things that make you an object of envy. If it doesn't involve immediate benefit in form of material goods, attention from the opposite sex and/or attaining sense of superior status to their peers, it's not worth the time. But my peers leave these moments feeling even more drained and even less fulfilled in their daily lives. I hope my daughter constructs her own unique spiritual haven, in whatever form it is, and learns early that individuals can weather many storms if they have a space for personal calm.
If you step back for a second - something I suggest everyone does regularly - you can appreciate the care that went into writing a bad-ass book entitled If You Have to Cry Go Outside and including chapters on spirituality. Even the wisest of go-getters forget their spiritual self on a journey of professional success. Most opt for back-to-back nights of binge drinking, clubbing and shopping. As hard as they try to make the most of their 20s in the most conventional, Hollywood teen comedy way, most don't take the time to check in with themselves to see if their choices actually make them happy, and instead emerge empty and burn-out on their job. They simply don't bother pursuing spiritually nourishing experiences. Worship at the altar of superficial desires is a short, exhausting service.
I knew that someone as accomplished as Kelly would have some sort of spiritual routine, likely integrated into her daily life. Most successful people do. One of the executives at my old company, with a reputation for being cutthroat, once told me in the elevator that he started every day with a glass of white wine and an hour long yoga session. He said it has kept him sane through decades of volatility in the commodities markets. What he gained from his spiritual practice of choice trickled down to his workday behaviours. Having a little space for spiritual rejuvenation in your day, in whatever format jives with you, is the best advice least given.
When I started reading the chapter The Truth Hurts: When Did Spiritual Becomes Equated with Nice? I expected Kelly to advise abandonment of all religions for the same reason Christopher Hitchens did. They lead to conflict, oppression of minorities and disrupt social and economic progress. It was heartwarming to know that Kelly instead suggests exploring all religions (organized or not) and drawing from them a wisdom to build your own spiritual experience. We tend to believe that organized religion is for our grandparents and is usually practiced on a fixed day of the week at a predetermined location. Religion isn't about what happens after we die but how we live. I do believe that all religions are worth exploring from that perspective but if we are forging unique personal and professional paths, why shouldn't our spiritual experiences be tailor made?
I believe that a connection with the Divine, by whichever one of those names you want to call it, is an essential part of maintaining your humanity. The Divine wants to connect with you as much as you want to connect with it and likely even more. I never lashed out at an intern or analyst, I never told off my boss, I never slammed the phone and I never cried in the office (you'd be shocked at how many people in high ranking positions do all of those in a day!) and all the while I did excellent work. I give full credit to spiritual experiences that created within me a divine connection to which I could retreat in times of trouble.
What I am striving to describe here is Kelly's step #8 to starting your own religion: "Incorporate conscious contact with the Divine into your daily life." Instead of attending organized worship, I sought out experiences that brought me closer to the Divine and expanded my social stamina (read: kept me sane). Before I even graduated, I went on a six month exchange to a school in Norway just so I could live among the fjords. While working in Toronto, I went to theatre productions and my friend's inspirational stand up comedy shows (Words to Laugh By). When I could work out of the office on the weekend, I spent hours on my laptop hammering out client presentations and press releases in the rooms of the Art Gallery of Ontario surrounded by prized paintings. You can find little sanctuaries for yourself without leaving town.
On vacation, I opted for natural experiences. One year, I swam with sharks in the Bahamas. I've been to Kauai three times (twice alone, once on my honeymoon, and I can't wait to go again) and every time I dedicate a day to a very wet four mile hike along the Na'Pali coast ending in a freezing dip in the Hanakapi'ai waterfall. The first vacation my husband and I took together was to the Cayman Islands. There we went scuba diving 100 ft below surface to hang off the North Wall, a 25,000 ft drop straight down into the ocean. These were the moments when I felt closest to God and that closeness translated into strength to handle my job, my family and tragic world events with composure. It set a standard for how I treated people and how I expected them to treat me. It recharged my battery and gave me the energy to be a better, more patient person to those whom I loved and gave me the courage to part ways with those who simply drained me.
What my generation forgets is the importance of doing the things that make you happy as opposed to things that make you an object of envy. If it doesn't involve immediate benefit in form of material goods, attention from the opposite sex and/or attaining sense of superior status to their peers, it's not worth the time. But my peers leave these moments feeling even more drained and even less fulfilled in their daily lives. I hope my daughter constructs her own unique spiritual haven, in whatever form it is, and learns early that individuals can weather many storms if they have a space for personal calm.
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