Spiritual Discomfort Zone

I need a spiritual teacher. I know it. I've known it for some time.

So far in this faith journey I'd say I've had only one traditional teacher and several temps and surrogates. How am I defining these categories of teachers you ask? Well, my only, thus far, teacher experience was with my first Unitarian Universalist minister.  Her name was Reverend BJ.

After attending her church for over a year, I decided to join in Fall of 2008 when I was very pregnant with my first child.  Deciding to join this church, though it went by the name meeting house, was a really big deal for me. I am not a joiner. I like to keep myself close to the exit at all times so I can slip out the back. In fact the owner of the gym I went to for some time would make fun of me because I would never do more than a 6 month membership commitment at one time. He said to me once, when I was renewing for only another 6 months after having done that for a couple of years, that I have commitment issues. Unquestionably. And the thought of any new relationship, whether it be with a new church or a new spiritual teacher, is quite scary to me.

There is a quote by C.S. Lewis that describes this discomfort I have. It goes like this:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

I have always liked this quote because it captures the risk associated with both choosing to enter relationships and the risk with choosing not to.  I feel that risk when I consider joining a new church as a member- rather than my current status as a "friend" of the church.  It also feels risky to have a spiritual teacher. However, to continue on the sidelines, as I have been for a few years now, feels risky as well.

Mind you, I'm using the word "risk" as C.S. Lewis did. To acknowledge the potential negative consequence of creating and deepening relationship through intimacy is that you will enter a state of vulnerability to the hurt and loss and grief that accompany the ending of a relationship; as well as "risk" in remaining an island unto yourself. If I chose to keep my spiritual and religious life as a one woman show starring me, I believe I am truly limiting the possibilities for how grand this faith endeavor could be.  Which is not to dramatically imply the mountains would crumble or the seas would dry up if Claire didn't join another church or find and work with a spiritual teacher. Not that kind of risk. A personal one. A commitment to myself to see this thing all the way through. Which means exploring the areas of discomfort. And for me, the discomfort, would be movement toward deeper connections with others.

But here's the paradox, what terrifies me, I crave. And I indulge that craving by reading about others' experiences with religious or spiritual communities and their respective teachers.  That allows me to get a small hit of what I crave and envy in others, all the while continuing to avoid the real deal.

Okay, so that is the cynical version. Or maybe that is still my harsh interior voice describing how things are. Because I think sometimes we read and learn about what scares us, or prompts that discomfort, as a way to more slowly begin to lean into the discomfort before the en vivo exploration itself.

Most recently I've been reading about Vietnamese Buddhist teacher, writer, activist Thich Nhat Hahn. He founded a monastic community in France called Plum Village. The monks and nuns who live there call him Thay, which means teacher.

A few weeks ago I wrote in this blog about a book I am piecing through called "One Buddha is not Enough" which towards the end has a chapter about Thich Nhat Hahn's medical treatment at a Boston hospital for a lung infection.  I found this chapter fascinating because, among other things, it described how several of the monks and nuns brought the monastic community life of walking meditation, mindful tea drinking, mindful chores and cleaning, and listening up for nuggets of wisdom and guidance from their teacher literally into the hospital room that Thich Nhat Hahn stayed in while receiving medical tests. I found this both remarkable and inspiring.

To me, it demonstrates two things. One, the portability of what can be gained from a spiritual teacher and religious community. It is not limited to the 11 a.m. to 12 p.m. service in the white building with the steeple on Sundays. And two, I think it is genuine love, not obligation or righteousness or religious or moral law, which ultimately creates a religious community (comprised of numerous individual relationships) that is sustaining over time.

These were important "connections" for me to make, and reading about this teacher and this community has been a gentle reminder to me that I have some pretty specific spiritual needs and spiritual tasks before me.

I have come to think about the concept of spiritual stages, that are nonlinear, as each owning its specific spiritual task for development and maturation. For me, I think I've had two stages thus far (and maybe I'll write about them at another time), and now I'm in a third. This stage I'm sure is about me risking vulnerability to move in to spaces of deeper more intimate connection and relationship with others- specifically with a church or sangha and a spiritual teacher. I need to move this faith journey out of my own living room. And I'm scared to do it.

But I will. I know I will. And it will be hard.

Kate, my Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction teacher told us this week that there are 3 choices available to us as ways to respond to the kind of interior discomfort I am describing. They are:

A. Distract from the discomfort. Busy yourself with food, work, television, gossip, etc.
B. Manipulate the moment by trying to shift yourself from discomfort to comfort. E.g. If the conversation is too difficult change the topic to something else.
Or C. Explore the discomfort through mindfulness practice.

Now in my line or work as a psychotherapist, I would add a fourth option for discomfort that I see a lot of, and that is to stay miserable by wallowing in the discomfort. And believe you me, unfortunately I am equally capable of a good wallow.

But I don't want to do that anymore, god knows I don't (literally, god knows). However to not engage in a very familiar, very automatic behavior anymore, I also know I will have to do something different.

Which brings me back full circle to my first statement. It's time for me to step off my own spiritual island, population of one, which kind of feels like walking the plank. It's time to join others in a religious community guided by a spiritual teacher.

So for the next few months (few years) I will move toward my discomfort. I will explore the discomfort that shows up by taking on the spiritual task of connection and relationship.

And what about you? What discomfort are you willing to explore? What spiritual task is calling you?