The Long and Winding Road

That leads...eventually, to a book!

Photo by Leo_Visions on Unsplash

Yes, yes, I have a new book coming out on October 1, TEN WORDS: AN INTERSPIRITUAL GUIDE TO BECOMING BETTER PEOPLE IN A BETTER WORLD.  It’s been a long journey, and I am excited to share it with you all. (You can pre-order the ebook now from Amazon, Apple, B&N, etc., or buy the paperback on October 1).

But this isn’t really a promotional post. In fact, I dislike promotion (even if I think of it etymologically: pro- forward, motion - movement). But it’s a necessary evil in the world today. If you want things to move forward, you have to promote. Sigh. If I want you to know about the book, I have to tell you about it.

There are some forms of promotion I am OK with, but I struggle with Facebook, Twitter/X, Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, etc. because I feel the instant fix, shortness, posturing, and superficiality of Social Media are the antithesis of a spiritual life that has depth and meaning. Much to my publicist’s chagrin, I refuse to waste much time on those platforms (that said, I do have a Facebook author page and an instagram, so feel free to like and follow if you want those short updates, podcast notifications, and quotes you might not get here).

I would much rather share things that matter instead of mindless memes or click-bait, so today, I’d like to share a bit about how TEN WORDS came into being. I actually think that process of creating the book is as important as the book itself, and in this case, it adds a meaningful context.

TEN WORDS was not birthed fully formed out of Brahma’s lotus or Zeus’ head. I didn’t just “see the light” and write it down. Though it feels like a kind of capstone for me, it was a long and winding road, part of which I share below. I hope that my story will give you some insight to why I think TEN WORDS is worth your read, and perhaps some comfort on your own journey along the long and winding spiritual road that leads…

Like many of us, I was early attracted to a spiritual life. Raised Jewish in Episcopal schools and nurtured by a powerful African-American, female preacher, religion was a daily part of my early life. In my teens, I delved into Kabbalah and esoteric mysticism, going as far as my teenage understanding would take me. I studied religion and theatre in college, and was absorbed by how ritual can lead us to the Divine. After college, I spent a few years living in the Middle East, learning all I could from the people and religions of the region.

When I returned, I seriously considered going to Rabbinical school until my uncle, a Rabbi, talked me out of it.

“Do you really want to be stuck in one tradition?” he asked, insightfully.

I had to think about that. I appreciated so much about my Jewish faith and culture, but I also loved the gospel music I heard on Sunday’s in Lillie’s church, the poetry of Hafiz and Rumi, and the Navajo and Hopi ceremonies I attended in summer camp, even if they weren’t “my” tradition. I even recalled how much I enjoyed the magic of the Christmas Candlelight Service I was required to attend every year as a schoolchild. Silent Night. Holy Night.

“Hmmm. Maybe, not,” I sulked. I guess I wasn’t really cut out to be a Rabbi.

But I still hungered for spiritual learning. For several decades, I dedicated myself to searching for truth. I entered trances with Sufis and shamans, studied and meditated with Zen Roshis and Daoist Abbots, prayed with evangelical preachers and Catholic monks, and (tried to) let go of my ego with Buddhist lamas and Hindu gurus. I did my yoga, t’ai chi, meditation, sacred reading, and altar practices. I sang gospel (badly) and played in drum circles (also badly). I attended synagogue and sesshin and silent retreats in monasteries. I had more than my fair share of “awakenings,” and a good number of truly transcendent experiences.

I learned a lot, and over the years, I amassed a panoply of traditions and practices cobbled together according to what worked for me on any given day and tried to fit it all into my busy life. But it didn’t really work. It was the equivalent of a spiritual smoothie that I sucked down between work and workouts. It still left me hungry.

I came to realize that while I “knew” a lot, my spiritual life had no unity, nothing that held it together. Unlike the singular traditional faith traditions, I had no map, no unifying structure or container to hold all these varied beliefs and practices. There was no center and no direction. It was a mish-mash. And, though it made me “feel” spiritual, if I was honest, it wasn’t really helping me become a better person in a better world.

I came to realize that my spiritual life had no unity, nothing that held it together. Unlike the traditional faith traditions, I had no map, no unifying structure or container to hold all these varied beliefs and practices.

That desire for structure eventually led me to interfaith/interspiritual seminary, where I studied all the world’s religions, the theories, processes, and practices of spiritual formation, pastoral care, spiritual counseling, and the creation of ritual and practice that weren’t limited to a singular tradition or faith. I was especially focused on the Perennial Wisdom, the mystical heart of spiritual life as it appeared across traditions. I wanted to find the intersections, the cross-pollinations and influences that arose from a common core of spiritual knowledge, practice, and experience. I was looking for a container big enough to integrate everything I had learned in my decades of searching into a cohesive set of beliefs and practices that would help me navigate life and become a better person in a better world.

While there, I was assigned to research and write about some aspect of religion or spirituality not covered in class. I chose New Monasticism, a growing trend in contemporary spirituality that was heavily influenced by Brother Wayne Teasdale’s ideas about interspirituality. Rooted in the gifts of traditional monasticism but with a modern sensibility that takes our complex, changing world into account, New Monastics are dedicated to a spiritually focused life of contemplation and transformation that is deeply embodied and embedded in ordinary life and integrated with engaged action in the world.  Their practical spirituality looked like my life – or at least how I wanted it to look—and, as I came to learn, how many spiritual seekers I counseled wanted their lives to look, too. And I had always secretly wanted to be a monk.

Their practical spirituality looked like my life – or at least how I wanted it to look—and, as I came to learn, how many spiritual seekers I counseled wanted their lives to look, too.

What makes monasticism different than just being “spiritual?” In every tradition, monks and nuns have rules they live by—vows or precepts— that guide their daily spiritual life. While they might follow the Ten Commandments, the Buddhist Eightfold Path, or any other moral imperatives of a particular faith in the big picture, monastics have additional specific guidelines that help them put theory into practice every day: The “how” of a spiritually centered, everyday life.

For example, the Benedictines have St. Benedict’s Rule of Life, which outlines specific times for prayer, practices, and rituals. Buddhist and Daoist monastics also have precepts, practices, and rituals. Judaism and Islam also offer guidelines like those of monastics, such as regular prayer times, sacred reading times, rituals, and social activities, though neither tradition has monastic orders. In fact, those traditions are in some ways closest to the ideal of the New Monastics, as they focus on having your feet firmly planted on the ground, in the mundane world, even if your head and heart are with the Divine.

No matter the tradition, the orthodox and monastics have an actual map for how to live an integrated, spiritually centered life, or a structure and a process. It’s not a piecemeal practice of spirituality like mine was, but a unified guide that provides a focus and rhythm of daily life and which, if followed attentively, will bring you more in touch with yourself, others, the world, and the Divine. It’s the way you live from your spiritual center every day. This, I realized, is what I had been looking for and what is missing in modern mix-and-match spirituality: an integrated map or structure to put spirituality into the center of your life and daily practice.

This, I realized, is what I had been looking for and what is missing in modern mix-and-match spirituality: an integrated map or structure to put spirituality into the center of your life and daily practice.

In my research, I explored all the monastic vows and precepts I could find from a wide range of traditions, including those of New Monastics, to see if I could figure out a way to create my own interspiritual “modern monkhood.” Much of what I found was proscriptive: “Thou shalts” and “Thou shalt nots.” Others had a specific theology or social imperative that didn’t work for me or were simply irrelevant to the modern world outside the monastery. I sought something more contemporary and less formulaic that would lend itself to enquiry, not rote. I was searching for a container with flexible, transparent walls.

I couldn’t find it, so I decided I would have to make it up myself. By the time I finished my assignment, I had come up with a set of ten simple words that expressed the essential principles, actions, and goals of an integrated spiritual life for today’s changing world without limiting how they were put into practice.

Distilled from the teachings of all the world’s great faith and wisdom traditions supported by modern psychology and science, each of the ten words describes a specific common spiritual aspiration, or a foundational way of being and behaving that helps us live in deeper connection with ourselves, others, the world, and the Divine. They cover our inner lives and outer actions, or who we can be and how we can behave with others. They guide us to becoming better people in a better world.

As I explored these words, what they meant for me, and how they could be embodied in my life, I discovered that cumulatively, they outlined a holistic, practical map of an integrated spiritual path. Together, they formed a simple, contemporary, interspiritual structure that provided unity without rigidity. Finally, I had found the flexible container I was seeking. I had a map. And it was just Ten Words.

Finally, I had found the flexible container I was seeking. I had a map. And it was just Ten Words.

When I shared these ten words with others, I discovered that many people also sought this kind of spiritual focus and practice. They, too, sought a path that wasn’t rooted in a singular tradition but still held the values and goals of our long human spiritual heritage, examined those perennial questions, offered a clear, holistic set of practical guidelines, and was relevant to living in today’s world.

Within a few weeks, ten brave people were willing to explore this new map and its terrain with me. As an experiment, we decided to take a year-long journey together to see if the Ten Words were as useful for all of us as we had hoped.

We spent a month on each word, questioning its meaning and application to our lives, studying and practicing independently, and coming together weekly to share and discuss what we had discovered.

At the end of ten months, we reviewed what we had learned, what worked and what didn’t, and the traditions and understandings that spoke to us, and created our own maps, or vows, for how we would each integrate our spiritual practice into our lives to become better people in a better world.

The experiment had proven that the Ten Words worked. By deeply exploring those ten simple words, everyone’s practices became clearer. Everyone’s understanding of what living an embodied, embedded, spiritual life integrated into today’s world means strengthened and deepened. Everyone grew and transformed and became kinder, happier, more fulfilled, and more connected to themselves, others, the world, and Spirit/Source/God/The Divine. Everyone found a little more peace and stability in a changing world. Soon, others joined and more people were using the Ten Words to find their own authentic spiritual path toward becoming better people in a better world.

For me, that first year was one of deep learning. Even after decades of spiritual seeking and formal training, I grew more that year than in any previous one. I have no doubt it was because I finally had a good map. Not only did my own engagement with the Ten Words provide personal insight after insight, but after years of a mix-and-match personal spiritual practice held together by my whims, my spiritual and daily life combined into a holistic, unified set of understandings, beloved practices, seasonal celebrations, and contemplative-based action in the world that were truly authentic to me…and put me on the path to becoming a better person in a better world.

From this long and winding experience, the book, TEN WORDS was born. I don’t claim to have it all figured out, and it’s still a work-in-process. These ten words continue to guide, challenge, and nourish me, and, increasingly, many others. I certainly didn’t know where this journey would lead when I started, but do any of us?

Aren’t we all just finding our way on the long and winding spiritual road to becoming better people in a better world?

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If you want to join me in an exclusive, 10-week exploration of TEN WORDS, please consider becoming a Pay-It-Forward Subscriber and joining our weekly Zoom gathering, starting October 9. (And if you can’t make it, sessions will be recorded and sent out to subscribers).

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