Leaf

An exploration of spirituality

My curiosity was piqued recently by a single word, "spirituality". Unlike times past when the word came it came simply wrapped, unadorned and without a capital letter. Most often I had encountered the word with at least an implied capital S. This one, lacking presumption, tarried in my consciousness. This one then did not seem to presume a religious underpinning, as had all those I had heard before. This one then begged for consideration.

Certainly the topic had come before, but I had not so much dismissed it as ignored it. I certainly have never felt anything that could be labeled "Religious Spirituality". My dealings with organized religion and churches had never led me to anything spiritual. If anything my dealings had discouraged thinking in term of spirituality. I had early parted way with religion, and churches, and avoided the topic as unproductive. Too much judgment and hypocrisy for me, so best to simply avoid it. So why did this simple word suddenly beg for consideration. The answer was of course that it did not have an implied capital S.

Being a member of the Internet Age the first thing I did was Google "spirituality". "Wiki" informed me that in recent years the meaning has widened to include non-religious connotations. In addition to religious implications there were New Age tinges as well as Ecological leanings. I had been oblivious to the changes because I had ignored the topic. Why then was it now worth investigating? It was worth consideration for the same reason given by a mountain climber who responded when asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, "Because it is there." Wiki had offered expanded definitions; now the question was how it all related to me.

Was there one episode that held a key to answering the question? I searched my memory for any clues about my relation to spirituality and found one episode. I was in my early twenties. One day, just a pleasant day, walking alone in a wooded area I came to a stream. I paused there and for some reason decided to sit there and try to think about my surroundings without using words. Think without words, should be easy, I thought. As I sat there watching some leaves floating down the stream I could feel I was churning my neurons. Something definitely was happening. I could feel thoughts but there were no words to describe the thoughts. A conundrum, how to describe a thought carried out without words by using words to describe the thought. It was exhilarating, if brief, till at last a word came to me, "leaf". The word "leaf" was the anchor, the finish line for those thoughts racing through me. Somehow the word "leaf" no longer just described something floating on the stream, it signified what I had just done. While I had ended my thoughts with the word "leaf" it was more a punctuation mark than a word, an exclamation point to my thoughts. I remember the elation I felt with the process. Now in remembering the incident I am reminded of when I visited the prehistoric cave paintings in Altamira Spain in 1965. Those powerful and moving images created by primitive cave dwellers must have been their punctuation marks, the exclamations marks of their feelings. There was no written language with which to record their surroundings, instead they made the drawings into their language, a means to inscribe their thoughts, using symbols to give meaning to their lives. They created something with great meaning to them to record their life. No pedestrian motive can be ascribed to those beautiful and powerful drawings. How could they not be important to their creators? How can they not have been spiritual?

So if primitive man could have been spiritual why not could I also be spiritual. Was not my experience there by the stream spiritual? Did I share something similar to that of the cave dweller? The question, this time posed by me, deserved an answer. That answer is an emphatic yes. This small quest for an answer has led me to the conclusion that man is inherently a spiritual being. There is something about mankind that is more than eating and mating. The motives to create those cave paintings were certainly more powerful tokens than those for my "leaf" yet their images and my "leaf" both fit into that amorphous category, "spiritual". Fortunately my research on spirituality, and the various conflicting definitions, did not preclude me from having my own definition. I can add my own definition and offer what I see as spirituality. My version differs from other versions including those conscripted by New-Agers as well as more established religions.

To me spirituality is getting more out of something than you put into it. It is a reward, not monetary or pedestrian or religious, that comes from activity, belief or thought. That activity, belief or thought is nourished by some inner drive, force or compulsion. The drive is compelling, the force strong and the compulsion is not based on guilt, envy, jealousy, hatred, greed or any number of other negative motives, rather it is seeking the inflow of energy or well being that is derived from the activity. The word "fulfilling" comes to mind to describe spirituality and while it may often be over used I think it applies here but is not, alone, sufficient to fully explain the attraction. For me spirituality is creating or doing something because there is a transfer of, call it energy, transition or well being, or choose some New Age appellation. There is inherent in it a reward, usually difficult to describe but compelling nevertheless. Reward can be from doing something as simple experiencing an event, place or experience or as strong as an epiphany, a life changing revelation. I put my finding the word "leaf" that day by the stream squarely in the category of a spiritual experience, not as powerful as those engendering the cave paintings but still notable for its reward.

In recognizing that moment, "leaf", as spiritual, I am led to realize other components of my life might also fit the definition. What other endeavors might qualify? Of all the major areas which I would now label as spiritual probably the most so is art. Art, when it flows best for me, requires very little conscious thinking, it is more doing or experiencing than thinking. The process almost guides itself to lead the way. The wood guides the chisel to sculpt itself. The pastel chalk guides the hand. The frame of the camera viewfinder stops panning when the scene is right. Not every artwork shares that level of certainty, but when all is working well there is a definite feeling of exhilaration, of satisfaction. The feeling is as indescribable as was "leaf", like finding the piece of the jigsaw puzzle that "belongs" and completes a search and lends a feeling of certainty. The certainty imbued in the feeling is both a strength and a weakness. The strength comes from the reward it bestows, the "path illuminated", the feeling that it "fits". The weakness is its corruptible nature. For art the corruption is uncertainty if the path is true or whether "is it commercial?" or "can I sell this?" or "will they like it?" all of which dilute and mislead. So spirituality is tied back to reality, which can reinforce and buttress or can undermine and weaken. Spirituality is tempered by those intruding force of reality.

Following closely behind art is, lacking a better description, restoration. I derive great pleasure from fixing broken objects. A broken toaster, an inoperative microwave oven, a camera with an inaccurate shutter all call me to set things good again. I could easily have bought a new toaster or microwave oven and I certainly do not need yet another camera to add to the dozens I have. Yet there is the call to "restore" or make new again. The drive to restore echoes the drive in art endeavors, though the reward is different because it is returning something to a previous state whereas art is moving something to a new state. Both are rewarding, just in different yet similar ways. The reward is greater than the effort.

So, suddenly, taking a picture is enlightenment? A brush stroke has become holy? That contour of a sculpture is now spiritual? That toaster making toast again is a reverent act? Have I gone too far, have I become infatuated with myself in this search for spirituality? Am I taking myself and these acts too seriously? The questions need answers. But because the feeling is indescribable it has no definition, it has no measuring gauge. The temper of its merit is not apparent. It worth can be as easily underestimated as it can be overestimated. The feeling is both real and intangible, answerable and impenetrable, enlightening and obscuring. Given all this uncertainty what is left?

The answer is simple. What is left is what we came with, a feeling, no more no less. It is spirituality.