for several years, I have belonged to a women's group at the Unitarian Universalist congregation I attend - with a group of women ranging in ages between 20-something to 70-something.

it has had many different forms and purposes over the years - a book discussion group, a support group, a women's study group...

this year, we decided to have the form of hearing eachother's stories - once a month we meet, share a dinner, and then give the space for one woman to spend a half hour or so telling her life story from the perspective of her spiritual growth.

It has turned out to be an amazingly powerful experience. Our stories are not often about quests, as are many of the spiritual myths we hear; our stories are in relationship, and finding the spiritual in the everyday. Women leading simple lives haven't been given much attention historically; and, in -most- organized religions, women are not in positions of power, so our perspective is ignored...alot.
We are finding that by giving this space, we are hearing what we can relate to and find meaning in. This storytelling has turned out to be a wonderful ritual for sharing our lives and what's important to us with eachother. It has also ended up creating a wonderfully intimate bond between us.

The sharings have been from the hearts and souls of these women. They are truly gifts.

Here's my story:

I'm going to first try to give an overview of my spiritual journey and then concentrate a bit more on some specific areas of particular importance to me.
When I tried to come up with a form for my story, what I decided to do was to put a few lines of poetry after each section I wanted to talk about as a summary of sorts.

And so, first, the journey:

When I think back to my childhood, and try to remember any spirituality connected with that time, there are a few glimpses of what was there.

I am aware that there was what I would call an inborn morality. I don't think that I was "taught" but rather that the values were there and I could sense them and try to live up to them. I am more aware of when I went against or didn't speak up for what I thought was right, in the attempt to fit in with others. I tended to "self-punish", I had a very strong conscience when I was a child - all I really had to do was listen to it to do the right thing.

Most of what I could think of as my early spiritual experiences were closely tied with nature, either observing the immensity of it or the minute details of it or immersing myself in some special place to simply be alone. I have tended to do that throughout my whole life - wherever I have lived or vacationed at, I have at some point searched out a "secret spot" - a quiet, hidden place where I could go to to be by myself and contemplate. These spots were always outdoors. Nowadays I tend to look for a secluded yet sunny spot. When I was a child, I tended to look for a "nest". I can remember a particular tree, I guess it was a willow, that had branches that went to the ground. I made a ritual of making sure noone would see me enter, and then I would dramatically pull back "the curtain" and enter my quiet domain. I didn't do anything but sit there, and think. I don't know why I consider this spiritual, but there seemed to be a special conversation that took place inside me when I was by myself in nature.

I was raised Catholic and participated in all the religious ceremonies - I was baptised, attended church on Sundays, went to catechism classes through my school years, received Holy Communion and made my Confirmation. But I don't remember that the teachings or that the religion was part of my daily life. My parents were not "religious" people.

When I entered high school, alot of my questions were answered with science and I turned my back on religion. I can distinctly remember sitting in church one day and thinking that future generations would look at us and think we were horribly backward, as I now thought of past civilizations that I was reading about, and about their religious beliefs. From the time I was 16, I never attended the Catholic church again.

Then, I called myself an atheist. Now, I would instead label myself as an agnostic, during those years. I didn't know what I believed.

In high school and college I had 2 teachers who, in their digressions from the subject into areas of their own interests, inspired me in ways that became part of my soul. My U.S. History teacher in high school was quite vocal in his diatribes on the treatment of Blacks throughout our history continuing to that day. Growing up in a suburban mostly-white town, I had never been confronted with these thoughts before and, the way he expressed them to us, affected me deeply. And when I was in college, one of my teachers was obsessively involved in ecology and on many occasions took the opportunity to talk about it. But she also lived it. I witnessed her extreme recycling habits - like washing and reusing baggies. She inspired me with her commitment. In both cases, I was touched by the passion of these teachers, but also, I understood the lessons and, to me, they made sense and I adopted their perspectives. It was the beginning of a social conscience for me; a connection with other people and the earth.

When I was in college, my best friend called to tell me she was pregnant and that she wanted me to be godmother to her child. My response was "But Peggy, I don't believe in God. How can I be a godmother?" She said she didn't care about that, that it was only important that I be in her child's life. But, characteristically, I didn't take her request lightly. I spent the summer reading the Bible (the only spiritual writing I was aware of), a book I had never read before. And I signed up to take "Philosophy and Religion" in the fall semester. This course had the the dubious description of "proving the existence of God, by way of philosophical writings through the ages". Perfect. A college course to prove to me that there is a god!

This course was attended mostly by what I guess were fundamentalist-in-nature Christians. I felt like the "devil's advocate" of the class, in a very literal sense. Many of the so-called proofs were "it says such-and-such in the Bible, so that proves it". That didn't work for me, and I was the only one in the class to question it. We spent the semester going over many different philosophical writings, and the one that finally spoke to me had to do with the complexity and wonder of nature. How it all just fit together so well, how the same pattern was seen over and over, molecularly or cosmicly, and how there must be some sort of greater power involved. That was it - not a naming of a specific god for a specific religion - but of a power, a spirit. This I could understand and believe.

Soon afterwards, I finished college and moved here to New Hampshire. For me, it was a great culture shock to come from a liberal college campus in a liberal state to this area of such conservative politics. It was very, very hard for me. I actually started to doubt myself because I was constantly swimming against the tide (a real pattern in my life which I have come to value, but in my early 20's, it was difficult for me).

I joined a food cooperative and became friends with a woman named Galee. Our conversations were always easy and I felt that she echoed my values back to me. At one point, I became comfortable enough with her to reveal my "blashphemous" ideas about what my beliefs were - which were that Jesus was just a man, a very holy man, but still a man. And that the Bible was written by men, and I just didn't believe everything it said and I certainly did not believe it was "The" Word of God. For me, it was a scary moment, in a way. I was naive enough to think I was the only one who had the thoughts that I did and to actually share them with someone else took courage. But I trusted her. You know what she said to me? She said "Debess, I know of a place where you will find other people who think like you do - and even if they don't, they won't criticize you for your thoughts". She was talking, of course, about this church. And I am so thankful to have found it - it was what I needed, when I needed it. Here is a place where I feel that my ideas have found fellowship. Where my continuing search has been encouraged, and where I have found many answers, and yet many more questions. A great source of growth for me has been this women's group, and the many forms it has had and the many functions it has served over the years. Where so much before never spoke to me, the books we've read in this group, the companionship we've shared, the subjects we've studied, the rituals we've created have all been deeply meaningful in my life. When my mom came here on the Sunday my 3 children were dedicated, afterwards she said to me "This church is perfect for you. You really belong here. I can see that".

that has been my journey, and now I'll take you down some of the paths a little more carefully:

although it may sound funny, if I am to talk about my spiritual journey, I must include the Grateful Dead.

I started seeing the Dead when I was 17 years old, still in high school. I went not knowing anything about them, only that it was a concert and that my friends were going. Little did I know that that night would be the beginning of a thread that would weave throughout my whole adult life.

When I entered the concert hall I was hit visually with the impression that this was not your ordinary rock concert. I could feel the Joy and I could see the comeraderie all around me. I think I immediately felt "at home" - these were my people and I belonged. That was what drew me in at first - the scene. It is a place like no other where perfect strangers feel they're friends immediately. You want to know eachother. Smiles are never greeted with suspicion - they are accepted as a genuine offer of friendship. Over the years, I have found the importance of conversing with those around me because I have found connections to mutual friends that I would never have known if I hadn't talked to the person sitting next to me. I have met people that I only saw at Dead shows, but we would remember eachother at the next show we met up at because, in the course of an evening or two, we had made a connection. It was the scene that initially attracted me, but soon I grew to love the music that drew those particular people in.

There is a sense of a modern-day tribe about the deadheads. But we are not of the tribe because of birthright, only because of something inside us that connects with the music on a soul level.

It's hard to explain in words what exactly it is about the music that has this spiritual affect on me. It was not something that could be captured in a recording - it was definately the live experience itself - being in the room when the music was created. There was a connection between the audience and the band and the music. One of their lyrics is "the music plays the band" and there truly is an unexplainable but perceivable phenomenon called the "group mind" that could be experienced on a good night. The band loved to improvise and were allowed by the audience to get as loose as they wanted. Sometimes it reached such a point of ecstacy for everyone there, that it seemed like everyone -was- creating the musical experience.

Joseph Campbell, the mythologist, once went to a Dead show and remarked that we were "a myth happening in real time". There's certainly a ritual about the event. The ritual, and the hours of dancing create a shaman-like quality to the experience.

All the poetry quotes I have been using tonight are actually lyrics from Grateful Dead songs. In many ways, the words are what set this band apart from others and added to the spiritual dimension.

I wondered if I should avoid this aspect, but decided to go ahead and include it.

There is definately a clear association with this band and drugs - in particular LSD. There is no denying it is part of their history. They started playing when LSD was legal and they were the house band Ken Kesey invited to perform at his Acid Tests in San Francisco. LSD was always a part (for some) of the ritual of the Grateful Dead experience.

Related, or not, to the Grateful Dead, I happen to believe that LSD -can- be used as a spiritual tool. From my personal experience, it has shown me how vast the mind is, how much more we can tap into and how much more we are than physical beings.
I don't mean to say that the drug could or should be used on a daily basis for spirituality; but as a tool, it opened many doors very quickly and lead me ultimately to search for other ways -to- experience the spiritual.
One very poignant experience I had with LSD is actually reflected in our UU principle of the interconnectedness of everything. I once had the experience where I could "see" it right before my eyes - I saw the little invisible threads connecting everything to everything else and I knew what it meant. Something clicked. My mindset was permanently changed.

With Jerry Garcia's death this past summer, and the band deciding to break up, I have suffered two great losses. When Jerry died, I experienced a physical depression beyond my control and realized that, even though I had never met him, he -was- a member of my immediate family. That was the kind of reaction I had to his death. And I also may have lost my tribe - there was always the next show to gather at - and that will be no more. I went through alot dealing with these losses this year, and alot of what I went through was very spiritual in nature.

Now, when I listen to so many of his songs, they take on a new and even more personal meaning. And I realize that he was always preparing us for this - for his death and any other deaths we will experience in our lives. All through his career, he had always sung about death, life after death and about making the most out of life while we can. He never asked to be the leader of this counter- culture-revolution, but he was. He tried to turn it around and speak with his music and give his spiritual lessons that way.

and, down another path:

when I found out I was pregnant the first time, I can't remember ever considering any option but to have the birth take place at home. I guess it just sort of goes along with my constantly pushing back at what is considered normal and doing what feels right for myself.

Galee introduced me to the woman who would be the midwife helping me with all 3 of my births. Cindy is a gentle, loving person with a great skill and love for the work she had chosen for her life. She recommended herbs for strength and elasticity and comfort. She suggested alternative positions for the birth itself. She spoke with a soothing voice and helped create an atmosphere of love and warmth to greet the baby. She gave me strength with her eyes and her skill.

Becoming a mother for the first time opened up all sorts of spiritual questions for me. Having that newborn baby in my life seemed to me to be a window into another dimension - I felt like I was actually in the presence of a real life angel - that she was not truly of this earth yet. The love was overwhelming for all of us in the house. I watched over the years as she slowly came into her body and became human, but those first few weeks to me were definately "other-worldly".

Becoming a mother gave me a flesh-and-blood link to the future. It made working to save the environment, for instance, much, much more personal. I have a human link into the future, even when I am no longer here.

It also gave me a human link into the past. I now relate to my own mother on a different level. We are both mothers, and not just mother and daughter anymore. When I held my babies in my arms and looked into their faces with pure love, I knew my mother had done the same with me.

One of my spiritual beliefs is that I am living at this time and the people in my life are there because I am to learn particular lessons from them. Nowadays, everything that happens to me in some profound way, I tend to ponder, "what lesson am I to get from this".

I have been married for almost 20 years to the man I met when we were both in high school. What is the reason that I have grown up with him? When we were planning to get married, when we were 19 years old, I actually had a few older folks say that we shouldn't do it. That we were too young and that it wouldn't last. Now, I understand the wisdom of that because I have changed so much from when I was 20. I guess I feel very lucky that while we both were growing as adults, we didn't grow in completely opposite directions.

When we were first together, we spent almost all our time together. We did the grocery shopping and the laundromat thing together, we studied, we had fun. When our children came, we felt uneasy about having babysitters for them, so we started going out on different nights with one of us staying home to care for the children. It was at that time in our life when our paths started diverging. At first, Guntis didn't like that I was getting interested in things that didn't include him, and he tried to make me feel guilty. And, at the time, I was still young enough to feel the guilt. But, over time, as I became stronger in myself to know what I really wanted, I guess I tended to disregard his guilt trips. And, funny thing is, now I don't hear complaints (so much!) anymore. He has a strong love of the outdoors - in particular, fishing - and when he needs time to get it together, that's what he does. He goes off by himself. I need to be with others - so that's what I do. We both understand that about eachother and, in fact, encourage it in eachother. We have realized the wisdom in giving eachother space.

When we started our family, we decided that we wanted to be their caregivers, for whatever that would mean to our lifestyle. So, since my first child was born, I've been mostly working parttime, even now that she is a teenager. My partner, Guntis, has also been working parttime - so that one of us is at home while the other is working. We are both bringing up our own children, and we are both working to bring in money to support the family. We realize how lucky we are to be able to afford to do this. It's been good for all concerned, I think. The children have a relationship with both of us based on day-to-day living experiences. We both have the satisfaction of bringing up our children ourselves AND pursuing our adult occupations as well. Guntis was brought up by an amazing woman and I am happy that he is getting the chance to bring up children himself.

His mother, Emilija, is the most spiritual person I have ever met. She grew up in Latvia, but escaped during WWII right before her country was taken over by Russia, with one suitcase and without getting a chance to say goodbye to her mother. She didn't go back again for over 30 years. She lived in displaced persons camps in Germany; as a matter of fact, married while she was there. They got sponsorship to come to America and built up their lives from nothing - literally nothing. She has had tremendous hardships in her life and has seen great atrocities during the war, but she is just so amazing. I have known her for over 20 years now, I am the daughter she never had, and when we get together, we talk and talk and talk. I have never heard her complain. I have never heard her speak badly of someone else. Never. What she does talk about is these experiences she has had and she gives life lessons that way. She is a very loving person. She accepts everyone for who they are, never judges, always looks for the good in others. She has a deep faith, which she lives, that has helped her through her hardships. She practices a particular religion, and yet is accepting of others' beliefs and practices. She's had mystical experiences, which she has shared with me. It has given me some new insights to hear her stories. She is so loved, because she is so loving. I know that I can never be like her - but with her as an example in my life, I can see the important characteristics to at least try to be like.

and down one final path:

Sometimes it cannot be denied, when something is calling to you.

At first it happened in bits and pieces, over time. But even in those isolated instances, something sparked inside, and slowly kindled until it flamed. It took years.

I remember probably the first spark. In casual conversation, it was mentioned, (in comparison to the comforting experience of having a homebirth attended by a midwife), it was mentioned that shouldn't there be such a role for someone -leaving- life? Wouldn't it be more comforting to die at home surrounded by loved ones in familiar surroundings? Wouldn't it be a profound experience to be with someone as they cross that threshold to another realm?

A casual conversation, yes, but it stayed with me inside. Those questions lived in me without my being aware that there could be answers.

At a party, months later, I came into conversation with a friend. Why him, I don't know, but to him I said "I think I'm getting laid off from my job on Monday. Weird thing - that's the anniversary of the date my dad died". Tom responded in empathy with the thought of dealing with the death of a parent. He told me that his father had died that year. And then he told me that he, his siblings and his mother had pulled together to take care of his father as he died at home. He told me of the conversations and nonverbal visits he had had at his father's deathbed. He used the word "powerful" - it was a "powerful experience".

I did get laid off that Monday, and was suddenly faced with the decision about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life and the luxury of the time to contemplate that decision.

Interestingly (to me!), now the sparks started flying at me from all directions, and rapidly. It seemed as if it wouldn't be denied.

Someone in this woman's group enthusiastically recommended a book as the most spiritual book she had ever read - "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying"...and then soon afterwards, I saw the book mentioned in, not one, but two publications I happened upon... When things come at me like that from different sources, I tend to believe it's something I should check into. So I bought and read the book, which just -spoke- to me in so many ways. It clearly spoke of hospice, of the spirituality of the experience, of the importance of the work...soon after I read the book and thought about looking into hospice, I read a notice in the "Milford Cabinet" that the Souhegan Nursing Association wanted to begin a hospice program and would start a training session for volunteers in two weeks. So close by! So soon! It was all just -falling- into place!

I took the training. I immersed myself in hospice literature, and in other books about death and dying. I continue to be deeply interested. About a year ago, I started volunteering once a week, visiting with a dying woman. It truly feels like a gift -to- me, not from me. I do know that I am not personally afraid to die anymore. I am very at peace with that fact. I have grown spiritually as I've contemplated death and dying, and as I've seen the smile light up the eyes as my "friend" awakens from her sleep to see me sitting there...

Spirituality is a subject that I am very interested in. I would love to hear any comments you may have about what I have written here or about what you have to say on the subject.

if you would like to send me mail, I would welcome it at: debess@tellink.net

two internet sites that exemplify my spiritual values and enable action in a very simple way are thehungersite and therainforestsite I visit them both everyday.

"He's come to take his children HOME"