Finding De-Light

Since there are so many differing opinions on here, and I often find myself (and some of the others here as well) with one foot in both camps, I have decided to share this essay I wrote ten years ago. It first appeared in Spirit in the Smokies: Magazine of New Paradigm Living in the Sept 1999 issue.

I hope you will indulge me; it's quite long, but I think it will give the scientists and crystal carriers alike a good snicker, and laughter has been scientifically proven to make you live longer....or is that a myth? This is totally meant for your reading entertainment, and is not meant to imply the efficacy of any pseudoscientific thing I have mentioned or failed to mention here. It is entitled Finding De-Light:

A number of years ago, I decided something was missing in my life, and set out to find out what that was. I owned a busy restaurant, and I was working on an early death from stress. An acquaintance had read my tarot cards, and told me that I was about to embark on a spiritual journey. As Jerry Garcia said, "What a long, strange trip it's been."

Shortly after the tarot reading, I began meditating each day, outdoors whenever I could, and practicing T'ai Chi. I also began reading the writings of spiritual leaders and mystics, and a lot of pop psychology. I attended my first group therapy session. I started going to a weekly class that studied different things--herbs, Native American practices, alternative healing. That group soon evolved into a few of us who wanted to do rather than just study. Some of my more suspicious friends thought I had joined a coven. We had sweats, animal spirit ceremonies, and went on vision quests.

One of the people in the group started getting colonics, and persuaded me to go. Cleanse the spirit, cleanse the body, she said, and so I did. I was also doing a number of herbal purges and treatments. Another friend dragged me to a self-help weekend where I explored my inner child. I started feeling emotional release, followed by exhaustion. I was attending college at night, and one night my professor handed out a blank schedule and said he wanted to know how everyone spent their time for one week. When I finished my schedule, I cried.

Monday through Thursday night, and all day Saturday, I was going to school. Tuesday through Friday daytime, I was working. Mondays, I worked another part-time job and attended weekly meetings of Metaphysics 101. Friday nights, I was always attending a workshop of some sort. Saturday night, the colonic (big party weekend, huh?). Sunday morning, the drum circle, and Sunday evening, group therapy. I had one hour left over in my week, and that's the hour I'm at the grocery store and doing the laundry.

In my quest for spirituality, I had my runes cast, my horoscope charted, talked through a medium to my Great-Aunt Minnie, asked the pendulum a thousand questions, and attended so many workshops I could conduct a workshop on "how to conduct a workshop."

In my quest, I allowed myself to become consumed with my mission. I visualized the New Age as the dawning of my time, when I was going to leave the old stress-filled me behind, and become a more enlightened, lighter individual. Instead, I jumped on every bandwagon. I didn't stop to consider who the "experts" were I was listening to. I scheduled myself right back on the the same old treadmill I was trying to get off of. I was looking so hard, I got lost.

I've had to lighten up. The circle will still keep drumming if I'm not in it. I found out my animal spirit is the Jack Russell terrier who lives next door, and he'll come and see me whether I go to the ceremony or not. The people at group therapy will think I'm having a crisis I don't want to share, but I don't care. I'm stepping back. I'm taking the weekend off, and not attending anything designed to help me. I might go to a baseball game and drink a beer. I'm sleeping late, and I'm canceling the colonic in favor of a old movie and a tub of Haagen-Daz. I feel more in tune with myself already!