In the vibration that is life, God is the ‘off’ between the ‘ons’. Within that pause lies the field of all possibilities, made manifest by a thought, a choice, or an action. Everything that was, is and will be, is also the condensation of this infinite force into what we perceive as separate and individual. Yet, the foundation upon which it is all built is the shared ground of nothingness. Although it is within each of us, (in fact, it is us), its presence is known most fully when we inhabit that space that is silent, choiceless and aware. In that time, when there is no time, we are unbounded creation – the sparkle of the stars, the force of the wind, the crashing of a wave. We are the eyes that see beyond what can be seen, the ears that hear truth, and the hearts that know we are love. We are God.

My parents were born-again atheists. They suffered so severely at the cruel hands of the nuns providing their education that they reacted in the extreme. Everyone else in the family followed the cultural norm of devout Catholicism. No one quite knew what to do with me, so I was passed back and forth between the two groups until I was given a say, and opted out of the whole situation. I was too confused to even pick sides, so I removed religion from the things I thought about, mostly. In reality, I was a born seeker, who also had a strong disdain for blind faith.

I remember funny moments of growing up in an all-Jewish area, proposing to my parents that we could just become Jewish as a solution to our religious identity crisis. Everyone else I knew seemed to think Judaism was pretty great. I attended many Jewish holidays at friends’ houses, but my favorite was going to temple. Since I could not understand what was going on, all I was left with was the sanctity. I felt happy to be part of a group (even if just by temporary invitation) and was intent on mastering the rituals. In my childhood world of utter chaos, I was soothed by the ‘regularity’ of it all.

It took me a very long time to find my footing. Yoga was my gateway to the Universe of spirituality, mysticism and even religion. I understood that what was happening to me in my quickly developing practice was much greater than physical prowess. I began to know God.

Then came a period, which I called ‘the messy years’ for my inability to manage the events of my life, during which I spent a lot of time on the floor, wailing. I could no longer make my body practice asana, but I became obsessed with the ancient scriptures, the stories and the prayers. Greek and Roman mythology were painfully boring in school, but now, I could not get enough of the tales of the Hindu and Buddhist gods and goddesses.

I wanted to know everything there was to know about how to overcome suffering. The natural starting point was the east, with Hinduism, Vedanta, Buddhism and their offshoots. I moved slowly west to Sufism, Islam, and finally back home to Judeo-Christianity. I began teaching myself the three most sacred languages – Arabic, Hebrew and Sanskrit. I was obsessed, chasing what I thought was the experience of sacredness, but was only just another example of my substituting information for feeling. My mind was kept very busy, but the healing was minimal. It was the beginning.

My maturation took place as I realized that more information was not going to help me – be a better teacher or have a better life. I settled into a space of knowing and not knowing, and there I found freedom. It was more important to feel and act on my beliefs, than to know and understand.

‘You’ve come a long way, baby’, my seriously Catholic cousin says as we have conversations about God and religion. My spirituality is one of the most important parts of my life. It is my practice, my livelihood, and what informs every choice I make. I began to observe the sacred, as opposed to try to grasp it.

Still, I get as caught up in the theater of the human experience as anyone else, so my practice is to remember. To come back to those things that I believe, and yet forget under the veils of delusion. Returning again and again, to all those places I feel the sacred most strongly – on my mat, on my cushion, in relationship, as a mother, as a teacher. It brings a smile to my face and a softness to my heart. I know that pain is hard, and suffering unbearable. But freedom is only one thought away. Grace, the sacred, the divine, are my real ingredients.

I believe:
• Everything is sacred.
• What we experience on the human plane is merely an illusion, a fun theatrical performance for our own entertainment and exploration.
• Human beings, when I stop judging and really see them, are divine.
• The hand of God can be found everywhere, but only if we look for it.

What do you believe?