Sundays....what is it about Sundays?? I woke up this morning on six hours sleep, not terribly enthused, not particularly energetic, but by the time I got to the barn and fed my horses breakfast I was smiling and looking forward to a little music. Brandi Carlile was my muse today...And as I was happily mucking out, singing so out of tune you might have wandered past thinking 'Is someone in distress around here?!', I found some inner spirit full of vigor taking over. I decided to go to Quaker meeting, looking forward to meditating and hopefully hearing something inspiring, when I laughed at the ridiculous juxtaposition of looking forward to meeting when my childhood Sunday morning was always filled with dread knowing, just knowing, at some point mom or dad would beckon me to get cleaned up and dressed for church. Aaaargh, what a colossal disappointment that sentence brought me. Wearing the inevitable wool suit only served to heighten my discomfort, so by the time Blythe and I were trailing our folks to church we would find every crack in the sidewalk and rhyme that kiddy saying about breaking your mothers back...nice kids, eh? I would find myself sitting there next to dad, and invariably at some point he would fall asleep, only to waken when the first snore escaped him. Eventually I began to question organized religion, always finding the hypocrisy and guilt trips too much to bear, the glaring deficiencies too large to forgive. In my twenties I completely abandoned any pretense of going to church, though my spiritual practice began to take shape in the form of reading and holding on feverishly to integrity and doing the right thing...with numerous mis-steps along the way. Reading someone like Ayn Rand impacted me in the most positive way, reminding me how we're all responsible for ourselves, no one else can be held accountable for what we do nor how we do it. I felt like I found a guru, a wise old sage whispering directly in my ear, and my ear only. As my thirties rolled around, the grim reality of how life works, watching people drift away from kindness, honesty and forthrightness left me reeling, as friend after friend turned in to acquaintance after failing some internal test only I was privy to. Instead of reaching out and helping, I began to withdraw. And I justified it with some hollow proclamation like if they want my support all they have to do is ask for it. Then, without any tangible thinking on my part, some things began to change in my life...I busted up my shoulder the last day of racing, and almost by chance started practicing yoga, thanks to a suggestion from my friend Katie. It wasn't long before the life of a yogi rooted itself deep inside, so firmly it will always be in life. The knowledge and understanding we are what we practice, without judgment or expectation, resonates so clearly with me I sometimes marvel how I missed out on this simple and yet spectacular summation of a well lived life. Life is indeed what we practice. The power of a group practice, the energetic sharing with your fellow yogi's is a precious experience, one I endeavour to bring to my local community one day soon. Not long after beginning my practice I took the Landmark Forum, and my world was completely turned upside down, rocked to my core in the best possible way. To find the tools that allow you to understand yourself so thoroughly, with a laugh in your belly and judgment long gone, was like finding my true self for the first time...truly remarkable and invigorating. And then, finally, to find some curiosity about Buddhism. I went to a meditation at my yoga studio one Friday night, having no idea what I would experience, and by some stroke of luck listened to a lady named Tara Brach via podcast. There was something in her voice I just gravitated towards, and I've been hooked ever since. Learning to be present is a gift of unbelievable power, another practice I look forward to growing old with. As I sat this morning at meeting, I couldn't help but find the similarities in all three parts of my life, the basic tenet of each being so closely aligned, albeit differing in the methodology, it made me smile. I don't think I'll ever identify with the classical idea of God, nor in the power of organized religion, but today I realized it doesn't really matter. If I can go to meeting and revel in the power of a group sitting, my own buddhist Sangha, and walk away feeling centered if not almost joyous, it isn't hard for me to see how someone might walk away from church with the same feeling. And this might be the best lesson of all.