It’s all too easy to pick up spiritual paths nowadays. With the Internet, swift book order fulfillment, eight million cable channels, Netflix and a general hunger for all things meaningful - folks can easily learn about pretty much any spiritual discipline in an afternoon, adopt it by the evening and drop it by morning. All without a hitch. I have certainly been guilty of some of this in my time on Earth. I’m a seeker, to be sure, and for about the last 10 years I’ve cycled through quite a few different ideas about the nature of the universe and how I should live with regards to that nature.
Usually, the greater thrill learning about a path gives me, the less authentic it turns out to be. Don’t mistake me, Islam has me thrilling for sure, but it feels different than what I’m talking about here. For instance, when I first encountered Ken Wilbur I got really excited. I read and thought and found myself rigorously nodding my head. Now, granted, Wilbur isn’t really espousing a “spiritual path” in the sense that I mean it, but he does lay out a path of kinds and argues convincingly for thinking about the universe in a specific way. He seemed to answer many of my questions and offered a way of looking at things that seemed quite empowering. However, it gave me the kind of thrill you get when you outsmart the teacher. Or the kind of thrill you get when you narrowly escape a speeding ticket. A kind of almost palpitation of the heart, a rush of endorphins.
I don’t know about you, but this usually means trouble for me. 
Tibetan Buddhism was the same way for me. It excited me to think about unravelling my perception of reality. The mental exercises required by adherents were fascinating and really made me feel like I was making progress. However, there was still that vague sense that I was “getting one over” on someone or something. It’s hard to explain beyond that. Note that I’m not disparaging either Tibetan Buddhism or Ken Wilbur or anything in between. I’m merely reporting on my experience and perception, so do feel free to calm down.
It seems pretty common that when people, particularly Americans, encounter a spiritual path they generally move through it until something with significant resistance comes up. Then they either drop it and move to the next path or find a “reform” movement within the path that lets them do what they want to do. Why?
It’s scary to do otherwise. It’s scary to come up against an ancient belief system and allow it to bend you, even break you. The idea that one might want to give up freedoms, precious freedoms, seems insane. The thought that everyone shouldn’t be given unbridled access to (almost) everything they desire smacks of despotism. I have shared these thoughts, but have also questioned them. Why? Because these precious freedoms don’t seem to be making folks too happy.
Now, I’m not saying we should do anything politically to take anything away from anyone. Again, calm thyself fair reader. I’m talking about voluntary release of freedoms that are available to one. In fact, in a way I feel like that’s even more valuable. To turn away from something that one has to fight to obtain is simple. To turn away from something that is ubiquitous in one’s environment is supremely difficult.
Ramadan has taught me that, to be sure. Food and drink are everywhere - everywhere! There’s always tea being served, snacks offered at meetings, lunchdates proposed, food machines in the school hallways. I can’t get away from it! To observe this availability and to turn away from it seems a simple and, to some, a pointless thing. But the fortitude it builds is tremendous. Large tasks seem small. More importantly, cloudy issues become clear. I don’t know why, but it’s true.
Anyway, there are some rocky patches in this Islamic spiritual path for me. The prohibition on recorded music, for one. I’m a self-proclaimed music junkie. Of course, the way I say that is telling. In the last two months, I’ve gone from scoffing at the very idea of giving up recorded music, to being open to it but seeing it as a long-range proposition to, finally, understanding the wisdom behind it and preparing myself for the inevitability. It seems crazy! I know! But somehow it’s working in my mind.
The important thing I wanted to say is that if a spiritual path doesn’t make your guts churn, doesn’t cause you to look deeply at yourself and change some fairly deeply held things, it’s probably not good enough for you. It doesn’t mean that spiritual paths should be painful, it just means that they should be real paths - with uphills, downhills, places that trip you up and the occasional, well deserved, flat patch for restful traveling.
e
One of the very first spiritual teachings I ever received was Buddhist in nature. But, really, it’s universal. It’s the simple practice of attention. Of paying attention. Not just in prayer. Not just when your driving in the dark on a slick, wet road. All the time. When you’re typing, when you’re tying your shoes, when you’re feeding your cat, when you’re walking around the block, when you’re rushing a meal, when you’re fighting with your girlfriend, when you’re exasperated with your kids, when you’re hammering a nail, when you’re gardening, when you’re falling asleep, when you’re taking a shower. All the time.