Spirituality as Process

Maybe you, like me, sometimes wonder what spirituality really consists of. How can anyone really understand or know this realm of reality that transcends, but is inseparably involved with, the material? My thought is it’s not quite knowable. Or maybe better put, it’s not ‘master-able’ by our methods of knowing. It’s the kind of thing that can’t be all-the-way understood or written about comprehensively in a textbook.

And yet, there is something concrete about spirituality -- that is, it seems that a full-hearted seeking after spiritual life, truth, and goodness does bring about significant change over time. Sometimes in quiet ways inside of individuals and sometimes in powerful and surging ways that had seemed impossible.

My own life has felt rather upended by my spiritual experiences at certain times. To be honest, that is probably what I most want -- and simultaneously am most afraid will happen. There are also times my spiritual life has felt dry, so dry it’s made me think, “What if this is a desert, and all those memories of abundant, vibrant liveliness were only ever mirages?”

“Maybe you, like me, sometimes wonder what spirituality really consists of.
...My thought is: it’s not quite knowable.”

Lately I’ve been considering a new thing, for me, regarding spirituality. And that is the importance of “process over content.” (We talk about this quite a bit in therapy training. It’s a foundational goal of therapists to learn to pay attention to the pattern of things that are playing out, rather than attending only to those things that are explicitly named or spoken about in the moment). 

Applying this to my own Christian spirituality has meant learning to pay attention not only to the words of Jesus on the topic of spirituality, but also to his process -- the overall pattern of life he lived out as an example of cultivating a spiritual life. His times of solitude, service, prayer, fasting, and teaching are all different parts of the important picture of his spiritual process. As I’ve reflected on this, I have been challenged to be honest with myself about my own spiritual “process.”  What are my patterns of action and inaction? What do my actions show my spirituality is really about? To put it to a sciency metaphor that appeals to me: What’s the “center of mass” of my way of living? The answers to these kinds of questions left me feeling discontent and hungry for more in my life. That turned out to be a transformative place to start.

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Allison (Allie) Ramsey is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist Therapist who works with individuals on a broad range of issues, including anxiety, depression, relational challenges, faith integration, divorce, and aging. 

Inherited Joy

For as long as I can remember, I have heard how special it is that I share a middle name with my mother. While I have always felt it to be true, it was only recently that I have embraced the particular significance of sharing our name “Joy." I have realized that in the passing along of the name, my mother also imparted the tools in which to access joy, and that is through play. One of my earliest joys was playing with my mom - running, jumping, laughing, dancing, exploring nature - she never held back with me when it came to having fun and playing hard.

“Joy is the feeling of freedom I experience when I reconnect with my more child-like self.”

Now, in the juggling of adult responsibilities and everyday stressors, along with overwhelming media stories of the pain and suffering of others in this world, it has become increasingly important to feel connected to that deep, inner child-like joy.  While it’s tempting to chase the most exhilarating, joyous heights, I recognize that finding joy in the mundane is what brings me buoyancy; shielding me against all the things that can mar my fullest perspective on life.

Joy is the feeling of freedom I experience when I reconnect with my more child-like self, often times through play, but sometimes even just in the reminder of things that I loved as a child. These moments are available to me as long as I create the space in my day for them. A great example, and a peek into my silly world, is how I stop to say hello to the squirrels on my daily, on-foot commute around town. I’m well aware this may sound a bit kooky, but I find great joy in connecting with one of my favorite animals and reminding myself of the fun I had chasing and playing with the squirrels in the trees that surrounded my childhood home.  

What’s in a name? So much more than I had recognized before.

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Lauren Joy Furutani, MA, LMFT, helps individuals and families of all ethnic and faith backgrounds maneuver through the unexpected turns in life.

Playing on the Road

Although the most trying, painful times in my life each have been marked by their own constellation of circumstances, I can safely surmise that a lack of play and imagination lied at the core. In those periods, I experienced my thoughts and emotions as facts etched in stone. Like a sentence to prison without parole. In the throes of such literalism, there was no wiggle room to consider other options. Conversely, when I approach the world with a playful stance, the mundane can turn into the sacred. Anxiety can transform into creativity. And fear can soften into a sense of wonder. 

“...play is not about fun or pleasure per se. Instead, its essence is characterized by social connection and active engagement with the present.”

Given this stark contrast between life with and without play, one might think that I would have figured out a way to bottle up this magical elixir. And yet this frame of mind remains so darn elusive to me. I don’t think it means that I’m too much of a stick-in-the-mud (although haters may beg to differ!). Rather, I think play is play precisely because it is difficult to pin down. It has an emergent quality. It is ephemeral, mercurial even, and can not happen on demand. It is a frame of mind that arises in the sweet spot where safety and novelty intersect. And this brings me to...

Road trips! 

Yes, road trips, for me, are fertile ground for play. On such a journey, I’m in the familiar shell of my own car and often with a travel companion who elicits a sense of belonging. I can let my guard down. I also have a sense of agency (unlike with air travel) - my input on temperature, music selection, or when to stop for a break impacts the space. Moreover, I am moving and the terrain is constantly changing - stimulating and out of the ordinary but not overwhelming. Within this flow state, in-between-ness is tolerable. I may be anticipating arrival at a particular destination, and yet I truly revel in the pit stops at little diners off the interstate, the conversations that can unfold when there’s little distraction, or the way that time stands still when simply looking out the window. Possibility is in the air, and I'm ready for exploration. In this line of thought, play is not about fun or pleasure per se. Instead, its essence is characterized by social connection and active engagement with the present.

This all said, the salve to the next big obstacle may not be to literally hit the open road, but rather to get curious about what’s obscuring my imaginative capacity. Or as poet David Whyte says, “Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink….Everything is waiting for you.” 

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Taz Morgan, MA, is a Marriage and Family Therapist Intern, IMF #99714, working under the supervision of Vanessa Spooner, PsyD. She has trained in Depth-oriented psychotherapy and works with adolescents, adults, and couples.