# Chapter 1: Church in Childhood It's hard to say why certain people are drawn toward a spiritual path. What is a spiritual path anyway? What does an 'awakening' really look like or mean? > [!note] The Spiritual Path > One aspect of a spiritual path that I found common in most interpretations is the idea that life is a journey from birth to death, and along this journey we are meant to unveil the mysteries of the universe while discovering the true nature of who we are. > > While we unravel these mysteries, we learn to be at peace with our existence and share our love with others. Part of the peace we create is peace with *not knowing*—with never solving any of the mysteries of existence, but living within them. --- ## The Buddha and His Disciple One of the Buddha's disciples would come to him each morning and ask, "What is the origin of the universe?" And each time Buddha would shoo him away hastily, responding, "Don't bother yourself with such mind games. Simply sit, be here, and experience the present moment. All questions will go away." Metaphysics was considered by the Buddha to be an intellectual fancy with no real value toward awakening or living a life of peace and joy. Some answers lay way beyond what our human minds can fathom or understand in a linear sequence. A philosopher is not the only person who wants to feel a greater sense of meaning in everyday life. We all do. It's part of what drives us. --- ## The Suburban Blueprint My awakening began with a desire to connect to a greater meaning than the suburban schematic for life that was ingrained in my consciousness throughout childhood and early adolescence. > [!warning] The Blueprint > The blueprint was a safe and secure plan: > - Graduate high school > - Choose a college > - Choose a career > - Choose a wife > - Choose a house, car, and neighborhood close to home > - Retire at 65 > - Prepare for the last two decades of leisure before death > > That was the schematic for getting through life before ever living it. Along the way, I was taught to be a good Catholic. Since birth, I attended mass every Sunday with my mother and prayed each night for God to take care of me and protect me from the fiery rages of hell. This was how the world worked—or so I was told, and so many other young boys and girls are told the same. Man was made in the image of God, and god was hung on a cross.* It wasn't until; I was introduced to eastern religions like Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism that Christianity began making more sense. > [!quote] Alan Watts > "Beware, if you sin, you will be punished. Stay in order, do what's right, and always know God is watching you!" --- ## Sunday Mass with Grandma Going to church was part of my week. Every Sunday I would go with my grandmother and the occasional cousin or friend. It was nice to spend time with my grandmother at church, and she made the time pass with fun. One time, during procession when I was about seven or so, I was dancing up and down the center aisle while my grandmother curled her index finger at me, yelling under her breath, "Get over here." I responded by shaking my rear end in her face. The whole assembly of churchgoers laughed in this suppressed way, as if nervous to let God see them joking around under his watch. The church had its appeal. I always enjoyed the holy fragrances of frankincense and myrrh. The choir did a great job rejoicing the psalms of the Lord. As a kid, I always used the responsorial psalm as an opportunity to sing aloud. Sometimes I must have been slightly obnoxious, as my grandmother would pinch me to be quiet. She was never too serious, and we had lots of good times at Sunday mass. > [!important] Grandma's Faith > Church was an element of life taken very seriously in her family. In many ways, it was a cornerstone of her identity, her life, and her understanding of the world. --- ## Growing Reluctance As I got older, I grew more and more reluctant to go to mass. I would go just to console my grandmother and keep her company. A nagging guilt would eat away at me if I didn't go. And God forbid—if God was real— missing church would get me in big trouble. This would defy his fourth commandment and I would have a lot of penance to do. For my own good, I needed to keep my attendance to a high standard. So in this way, I continued attending. The church social scene was a mix of elderly persons, single mothers, families of four with young restless children, and other young adults still grappling with their faith or on complete autopilot anyway. I fell under the latter category. I spent most of my time during the homilies and readings admiring the architecture of St. Patrick's Church. Farmhouse-style joinery held up the steeple, framed the stained glass windows, and anchored the many hanging chandeliers. All of it kept my mind occupied as the priest read from the scriptures. I would catch glimpses of the Gospel: stories that centered around sacrifice, miracles, and much betrayal. --- ## The Ritual of the Host My favorite part of mass was the sharing of the host. This was the body and blood of Christ. We would all line up to receive the wafer of bread, and I would count how many people took it in their hands versus how many would let the priest place it in their mouth. The ratio was usually 1:1, which made counting to see which side wins more exciting. My grandmother and I always left after the host, even though the mass hadn't "technically" ended. When we got in the car, we usually both felt a twinge of guilt and concern that God might not be counting our attendance and that we may be on the naughty list. But it didn't concern us too much, as we never cared to change our ways. --- ## College Church When I went away to college, I found a little church on the outskirts of campus. It was quite beautiful, with teak floors, elephant leaf ceiling fans, and bright purplish stained glass. The feeling was more young and radical than St. Patrick's. I was surrounded by a lot more youth, and the pastor was an old spirited man who wore a 'Phish' shirt under his robe. I enjoyed his enthusiastic homilies. He even inspired me to volunteer at the church's Thanksgiving feast. I met a few friends there, but the neat and nice demeanor of the churchgoers wasn't quite me. Everyone greeted and conversed in a timid and reserved way. All the boys wore plaid button-downs and the girls wore sweaters and skirts. > [!reflection] Searching for More > I wanted more from my religion. I wanted to really be punched in the gut by God—because everything else (the career aspirations, degrees, social pressures) was. running dry on fullfillment. > > As I was approaching my twenties, I started feeling a hollow space inside myself. I wasn't sure what all 'this' was for. --- ## Heaven and My Father Part of the solace of church and Christ was the thought that my father was somewhere in heaven, in paradise, and that we would meet again in a world far superior to the earthly realm I was currently confined in. --- *Next: [[Ch 2 - Dad's Addiction]]*