I spent last weekend down home in the bible belt, bringing my youngest sister back home after her annual stay with me over winter break. Talking about religion has become something of a taboo for my family, primarily because of my separation from Christianity. They don’t talk about how disappointed they are in my lack of “traditional” faith and I don’t talk to them about my journey.
But on Sunday, something happened that hadn’t in a lot of years: my dad wanted to go to church. We’d stopped going as a family after our move across state when I was about ten because we didn’t like any of the churches, and frankly I didn’t mourn it. I’d thought the notion of going weekly had truly fallen by the wayside, but in an attempt to rekindle their religious devotion, my parents have started going again.
This made me realize just how much I love my own spiritual path. I don’t have to go to a building to commune with my gods. My doctrine doesn’t dictate that I congregate with others in order to worship correctly. My connection with my gods does not require the intermediary of a pastor or priest. Where my parents need the structure of organized religion to feel their god, I am the only conduit I need to reach out to the Mother Goddess; the ability to hear and honor Her rests solely within myself.
No matter what form it takes, always be utterly in love with your spirituality (or lack thereof, whatever floats your boat.) It’s a part of who you are, and if it’s not bringing you joy, purpose or something meaningful, then it’s not something you should be keeping around.