SPIRIT: Leave a Little Room for Mystery

Early Tuesday morning, I was hiking in the mountains of western North Carolina when I heard a strange, wild screeching somewhere in the trees.

Then something ghostly white swung through the branches like a monkey.

I froze.

What the hell was that?

Surely not a monkey.

The dog had stopped too, just a few feet ahead of me. We stood there together for a minute or two, staring into the forest, waiting. I hoped whatever it was would make another appearance, but the woods had gone completely silent.

Once my heart slowed down, we continued walking.

And then I noticed a sign.

Flying squirrels live in these parts.

Wow.

I'd witnessed something rare. Something incredibly brilliant.

A flying squirrel in the wild.

Holy shit.

Relationship with Spirit

When I am awake for my life—really paying attention—I have a lot of what I call "God moments." They are moments when I feel intensely connected to Spirit, to something larger than myself.

The flying squirrel may sound like nothing more than witnessing something unusual and wonderful. And maybe that's exactly what it was.

But there was something else happening for me in those woods. Something I can't quite explain.

And I don't want to.

I cannot explain Spirit, nor am I particularly interested in trying. Mystery is not a problem I need to solve. I'd much rather learn how to recognize it when it appears.

Because I suspect connection with Spirit is happening all the time. I'm simply too distracted to notice much of it.

When I am present in my life, these moments offer some of the most powerful experiences of awe I've ever known. Nature, especially, seems to tune my senses differently. I notice more. I listen differently. I feel myself as part of something rather than merely someone moving through it.

And interestingly, science has something to say about that—not necessarily about Spirit, but about what happens to us when we experience awe, ritual, meaning and transcendence. Research suggests that awe can shift our attention away from our individual concerns and toward something larger than ourselves. Experiences of meaning, connection and ritual can support wellbeing and help us make sense of our lives.

None of that tells us what Spirit is.

Good.

I don't think it needs to.

Maybe the flying squirrel was simply a flying squirrel, doing perfectly ordinary flying-squirrel things while I happened to be walking beneath it.

Maybe it was coincidence.

Maybe it wasn't.

I've stopped needing to know.

The scientific explanation and the spiritual interpretation don't have to fight for the same chair.

There is room for both.

And perhaps there should always be one empty chair left for Mystery.

Practice: Create a Tiny Altar

Create a tiny altar somewhere unexpected.

A stone. A feather. A candle. A photograph. An acorn. A tarot card. Anything meaningful to you. There are no rules here and no required beliefs.

Then spend five minutes there.

Don't ask for anything. Don't try to make anything happen. Don't look for a sign.

Just be there.

See what happens.

Take This With You

We spend so much of our lives trying to understand things. We name them, measure them, diagnose them, research them, explain them.

And thank goodness we do.

But perhaps a meaningful life also requires a little space for what we cannot explain.

For awe.

For wonder.

For the strange white creature moving through the trees before dawn.

You don't have to call it God. Or Goddess. Or Spirit. Or anything at all.

You don't even have to believe.

Just leave a little room for Mystery.

And pay attention.