Reflecting on my spirituality throughout the years
<p><em><strong>Margaret Cunningham, 61, is ‘semi-retired’ from her role in digital communications. She is a hobby writer who particularly enjoys writing articles with a reflective viewpoint. A lifelong passion of health and fitness means she is known in her community as ‘that lady who runs.'</strong></em></p>
<p>The In Hindsight series, of which this story is part of, is a collection of stories and moments that have impacted my life. They are snippets of insights and experiences. In the end, these stories will tell the tale of the dash (-) between the dates of my first and last breath. I want these stories to mean something – to let all who read them know the person behind the tags of daughter, sister, mother, wife and grandmother.</p>
<p>My mother led an eventful life. Her eulogy certainly revealed a woman with an adventurous spirit, but as my brother delighted us all with the telling of her story I was struck by the thought that her life was just a list of events. The story of her soul, I don’t know. How she felt about her list of events. Her fears, her disappointments and regrets. Of being frightened, of loving, of lessons learned. What made her feel alive? I don’t know. She took this with her to the grave as did my father with his life.</p>
<p>And this is at the heart of the In Hindsight series. Me is not my soul – I am more than a list of events. In every Hindsight story lies a chapter of my soul. So to be true to the Hindsight philosophy, I need to talk about the moment when I realised that everything I perceived God to be was a lie. Even now as I write the words, I feel its impact on my soul.</p>
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<p>From the moment of conception our lives are shaped by others. Within the womb and out of the womb, our first experiences of life are provided by parents or caregivers. In those early years it is adult decisions, opinions, customs, actions, and perceptions that shape what we believe and how we feel. As children we unconsciously accept the beliefs of those around us as the truth. No questions asked. So my parent’s authoritarian Catholicism was my first introduction to God. As far as I was concerned God was religion and religion was God.</p>
<p>It’s interesting the impact this had on me. On the one hand, the moment I left home I never stepped back into the Catholic Church, yet God… well I just couldn’t get rid of God. In her book, Watching the Tree, author, Adeline Yen Mah says, “… change is the only constant. To that I will add also the universal human yearning for truth and wisdom.” I never quite know whether to use the term ‘fortunately’ or ‘unfortunately’, but the yearning for truth and wisdom seems to be the road I have travelled.</p>
<p>Fitting God, or not fitting God, into our own worldview is a good way to keep God under control. We are good at shaping God to our expectations. God is who we want God to be. And so it was for me. From childhood to adulthood I constructed my own set of values and spiritual beliefs based on past and present life experiences. Naturally these evolved over time because real experiences do change us. The worldview of my youth and for much of adulthood was what I chose to believe. And as is the arrogance of youth, I believed that whatever my worldview was at the time, was the ultimate source of the truth. I still cringe at some of the zealous moments of my spiritual life as I moved through the ‘born again’ scene. As well-intentioned as they might have been, they had more to do with my own ignorance and ego than any display of tolerance, peace or truth. Most of all I feel cross with myself because I did not question.</p>
<p>Nothing is what it seems – and this is exactly why we should question everything we think. Wasn’t it Albert Einstein who said, “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”? Kids are such natural questioners. They start off asking endless ‘why’ and ‘what if’ questions, but somewhere along the way fewer and fewer questions are asked. Why is that? Is it because as adults we think the constant ‘why’ and ‘what if’ questions tedious? Do we say ‘… go away I’m busy’ or do we laugh at a question because we think it silly? The fear of being knocked back, ridiculed or laughed at was very real for me as a child and this accompanied me into adulthood. I didn’t ask questions because I just believed everyone else’s truth. </p>
<p>We all have a ‘spirituality’ whether we want one or not, even if we believe/don’t believe in God, or whether we are religious or not. Mention God, spirituality or religion and it conjures up images of churchy, holy, pious, New Age or some other airy fairy mystical perception. This was, and is not me, and if I could write this in shouty CAPS I would. I have led a fairly eventful life exploring most of what life has on offer, the good and the bad. God was just always part of my spirituality and I would modify God to suit my views, values and worldviews at the time. On this particular day I was about to literally dump God for good. God was not behaving as I wanted and acting as I believed God should. Why did God not seem to be answering my prayers? Why did God not feed the starving? Injustice. Wars. Greed. Power. Rape, Poverty, Disease. Why were some babies born just to die? Six million Jews and minority groups massacred in the holocaust. Couldn’t you have stopped this God? Why? Why? Why? So many questions. It was then I became aware of another option. What if everything I believed and perceived God to be was a lie? And it was. So I let God go.</p>
<p>For a while I felt utterly bereft. Bewildered and panicky at what was happening. It felt as though I had wasted 50 years of my life chasing God, of being conned by my mind. Letting God go left a huge void. But at the same time completely liberating. I read somewhere that if we continue to journey trying to make things fit into our own worldview then no one will benefit. I had designed God so I could control God. Throughout history, God has suffered a great injustice at the hands of those who claim to be the closest to God. No one person or religion has a monopoly on the truth.</p>
<p>What did I replace God with? Oh, I didn’t replace God, no, I just let God go to be God. I have no intention of replacing God with another God. God just is, that’s all. What remains though is room. Plenty of room for God to be God. What I have noticed is how my attitudes towards others have changed. The people I meet and their life experiences have become incredibly precious. Love, peace and tolerance take on new dimensions when you let God go to be God.</p>
<p>Nothing is what it seems. Maybe what you believe right now is the truth and you have the answers. If that’s the case, then don’t be afraid of to ask yourself the question. What if everything I perceive, or don’t perceive, God to be is a lie? It may well be that you end up right back where you are now. But it’s a wonderful, exhilarating, never-ending question of what, and who God is, or is not, to explore.</p>
<p><strong>Read more from Margaret’s In Hindsight series here:</strong></p>
<p><a href="http://www.oversixty.co.nz/health/mind/2016/12/margaret-cunningham-on-fear/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>Don’t let fear stop you from your goals</strong></em></span></a></p>
<p><a href="https://www.oversixty.co.nz/health/mind/2017/01/margaret-cunningham-on-time-to-do-nothing/%20"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>In praise of doing nothing</strong></em></span></a></p>
<p><a href="http://www.oversixty.co.nz/lifestyle/relationships/2016/11/margaret-cunningham-on-what-makes-a-marriage-last/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>What really makes a marriage last</strong></em></span></a></p>
