The Journey, Chapter 2

While my religious education began at a very young age, my true spiritual education did not begin until very recently.

In 1999 the movie American Beauty was released. For reasons that I still do not fully understand, seeing that movie had a tremendous impact on me—it struck a chord that was at the very center of my being. The sleeper had awakened. The themes of the movie was planted in me and started to grow: live; pay attention; look closer; this moment will never exist again; don't let fear rule your life. Lester Burnham was me, plus about 20 years.

This wakeup call from the universe began a gradual progession of deeper and deeper introspection and soul-searching: there had to be more to my life than the contracting job I had at Sprint; more to it than the commuter marriage that left me feeling almost as alone as I had in high school; more to it than just drifting along and passively letting life happen to me.

Fast forward through a 3-year ride on the roller-coaster of my life, all the while rather desparately seeking something, but still not knowing what it was that was missing, and we arrive late in the summer of 2002. J had moved to Kansas City to join me and we had decided to open our marriage and explore our sexuality together by swinging. We attended a few events and talked with a few other couples online, and eventually stumbled onto a bar that catered to the “alternative” crowd—gays, lesbians, transvestites, swingers, you name it—all were welcomed and excepted, and as long as it wasn't illegal (or as long as you didn't get caught), just about anything went.

It was here, over Labor Day weekend, that I encountered the second most impactful thing in my life in the form of a short, sassy red-head.

J hit it off right away with S's husband, R, who had a decidedly BDSM bent to him that she found quite alluring, as that was something that she had really taken an interest in, but that I was a little more hesitant about. S and I were just kind of along for the ride at that point, but the four of us spent much of the evening at the bar talking and getting to know each other.

Allow me a little side-bar here. For most of my young-adult and adult life, I have been aware of “alternative” religions, whether it has been from the mass media or the books I have read, but never really knew anything about them. My impressions were that the people who followed those paths did so with such devotion, passion and joy—the very things that I saw missing from my religious experiences. I longed for the sense of wholeness that I perceived as coming from rituals and practices that actually had meaning. I wanted to believe in something that way. Looking back, it was very much a romanticized view of things.

So imagine my intrigue when S and her husband said they were pagan and talked about things like energy work and healing and drumming circles. This drew me in like a moth to the flame—I wanted to know more. The night progressed and we all ended up back at their house. J and R had a great time; but between S and I, the chemistry just wasn't there, leaving us both rather disappointed.

I ended up sending S an email the following afternoon apologizing and asking if we could get together again sometime to talk and see where things went—J was very interested in seeing where things went with R.

According to S, that email completely blindsided her. From what she says, she had pretty much written me off and was moving on, but my email made her take a second look. We ended up talking more and getting to know each other more and getting together independently of our spouses, who were doing likewise. And my intrigue and fascination and respect and love grew with each passing moment that we spent together. That may sound trite to some, but it is the truth.

I asked S to help me with my quest for self-discovery. I asked her to guide me and teach me. And my initiation took place one night in early October, on a faux bearsking rug in front of her altar. Something changed there, as we made love—it was a very subtle but fundamental and tangible shift of energies, that even R and J commented on later that evening.

In the weeks that followed, my marriage evaporated. It was not an intentional thing, really, and completely unrelated to what was unfolding between the four of us—R, J, S and me. The previous few years spent apart had set us on divergent paths that even a year of being together could not mend. S held me as I cried, and helped me keep my head on straight as the bottom fell out.

And it wasn't too long after that when S's marriage fell apart. She called me as she left, and I invited her to my apartment to crash. She never left. Within three months, we were both divorced; within six we were engaged; and just over a year from the day we met, we were married.

Almost from the day we met, I was thrust into a new world: a world of psychics and Reiki; of witches and spells; of crystals and energy; of Priestesses and circles. It was all of those things that I had read about or heard about, but they were real. I had a personal guide to show me around and introduce me to this community that was based on something more than a morose and rote weelky ritual. This was a community based on spirituality and not religion.

I finally understood that religion was a label, a compartment, a classification—none of which applied to the people I met. There were as many different paths as there were people, and all were welcomed. I was free to explore and find the nuggets of gold and the pieces of the puzzle that were meant for me.

I have been walking this path consciously now for just over 3 years. I often still feel naïve and a total novice. My awareness has grown so much, but along with that has come the awareness of how little I do know.

The pieces of the puzzle keep falling into place, sometimes slowly, sometimes in leaps and bounds. I am apprenticed to the world: the world within me and the world around me. I am learning to face my fears and render them powereless. I am learning to accept that it is OK for me to not know all the time. I am learning that it is not always the destination that matters, but the journey. It is the person that I am and the people that I meet along the way that matter. It is what I can teach and what I can learn.

And no matter how far I have come, the path stretches before me, beckoning softly for me to move ever forward into the infinite.