What is it to be a spiritual person without a belief in God? Perhaps it is to give attention to the practices that inform the believer’s life, practices such as worship, prayer, silence before God, adoration, confession, commitment, thanksgiving, compassion. In the 20 years I was a Christian, these practices deepened my understanding of human reality. I’m thankful for that.
And what does it look like to concentrate on the practices without the ritual of religious observation? Similar. There is meditation, stillness, mindfulness, reflection, contemplation, even prayer of sorts. But if not a reaching out for God, what is the purpose or goal of such practices?
Attention. Not just to myself and my needs, but also to the goodness, beauty and wisdom that can be found in the world as I experience it. The goal is waking up to goodness in all its forms.
I practice mindfulness of the transience and sheer gratuitousness of life and consciousness, taking the time to appreciate my experiences as a precious and undeserved gift. My faith lies, not in believing teachings of doctrine or theology on someone’s word, but on the commitment of myself to the continual possibility of goodness.
I spend time in reflection, examining my motives and desires so as to turn from egoism to a true concern to help and value others. I practice to experience release from the tyranny of the past and to be free to face the future with a hope that is more than optimism.
I practice to develop compassion and empathy for others and reflect on how goodness might be increased in my world, not for myself, but for others. I cultivate this spirituality, this discipline of the mind and heart, without relying on doctrines or theological problems. Contemplative practice is what religious practice is, or ought to be: a practice of the formation of the self in virtue: in the excellence of being a truly human person.
In some ways, it might be said that the idea that you must believe in God to undertake these practices gets the whole thing upside down. These practices disclose depths of meaning and insight. To miss out on these things would be to miss something of great importance in life.
The commitment to contemplative practices puts me on the path to discovering a new depth and experience of the world. Contemplative practices reach deeply into the self, rooting out attachment and aversion, bringing insight and revelation. Commitment to compassion and love in the face of numerous temptations to petty selfishness harnesses action to contemplation. It is a moral commitment and it teaches me how goodness can be desired and realized without seeking to possess it for myself alone.
In its truest sense, this is a hidden and inward journey. Yet, it is also an intensely practical matter. It is a way of being in the world with passion and commitment to the good. This commitment and hope spring from deep natural impulses of the heart. My commitment to contemplative practices are a response to a vision of goodness whose attraction is irresistible. This is a quest for a fuller dawning of a light once dimly seen, of love once obscurely felt, of haunting intimations of a different way of being, of transcendence and transformation and awakening.
"You talked about the first principle again, but I still don't know what it is," I said to Suzuki.
