Relating, Creating, Transforming

Archive for June, 2015

The Stupendous Little Seed

Mark 4:26-34

tinyseedcover.jpegEric Carle’s book, The Tiny Seed, follows the journey of a small seed through the seasons of fall, winter, spring and summer—across snow-capped mountains, great oceans, vast deserts, and winding fields.

Carle also wrote The Hungry Little Caterpillar, one of my favorites. His stories invite us into beauty, mystery, struggle, and triumph of the natural world. Not only do I think such stories are good for children, but they’re also great for youth and adults. We all need to be reminded that we are all creatures living in a natural world full of fragile, yet incredibly harmonious and balanced ecosystems—each one completely unique. Since we do live in and enjoy the fruits of this natural world, we ought to take the time to cooperate with it, to not destroy it, and to also empathize with all the creatures, great and small, all the plants and seeds, too.
The tiny seed seems like it won’t survive. Each time we turn the page in the story, we’re concerned. Will that fragile, tiny seed make it to the next place? Or will it get pushed out by weeds, eaten by birds, or trampled on by humans? Will that tiny little seed make it?

The message is simple. The tiny seed, though so small and so fragile, can and will make it.
And that tiny seed can make it, even without our help.
And that’s beautiful, mysterious, challenging, and triumphant.

Jesus of Nazareth was quoted by various Gospel writers telling stories about seeds. They were parables—stories with hidden meanings. Sometimes the meaning had to be hidden, because religious and military authorities were afraid of what he was saying. Other times, the meaning was hidden to make a point to his own followers.

In this case, the first parable in Mark 4 is pretty simple, I think.
But very explosive.

The reign of God is as if someone scattered seeds on the ground, and then slept and woke up night and day. Meanwhile, the seed sprouted and grew, and the person who scattered the seeds in the first place didn’t know how that could be possible. For the earth, from itself, produces a stalk, then a head, then the full grain in the head. And when that grain is ripe, it’s time for the harvest.

There’s no controlling the seed. The person who scatters the seeds cannot understand how that grows into a plant. But it just does. And so Jesus was comparing the seed to God’s reign. In other words, that the presence of God doesn’t need us to exist, cannot be controlled or influenced, and is best received as an inexplicable gift.

This raises a major question about faith, because if we take this as far as I think we should, this parable is saying that faith doesn’t depend on what we believe.

What if it is all a gift and not a decision? How would that change the way we think about faith?

Certainly, there are plenty of people who don’t worship on Sundays and may not say that they are “religious” or even “Christian.” What if this parable is saying that we should stop trying to convince them or convert them? What if they, just like us, are part of this natural world where things harmoniously happen and we don’t know why?

What if they are mysteries to be accepted and loved as they are, embracing the “freeness” of a God who works beyond the confines of churches, doctrines, and books?

That first parable is a “wake up” parable.
We want to have control, but control is an illusion in the natural world.
And God’s reign of love and mercy is uncontrollable.

The second parable follows one of the tiniest of seeds on its journey—the mustard seed.

seeds.jpegIt is invasive, it grows wildly. Just when you think it’s gone—it is there.

Again—there’s a lack of control in this parable and sense of wild freedom.

Birds come and nest in the mature plant that started off so small and inconspicuous.

But let’s not assume that this image is all nice and cuddly—the great big mustard seed plant sheltering the cute animals while soaring music swells in the background, the sky a pure blue, and the sun shining.


It’s a parable, remember.

So the birds—who might they be?

What if the birds are people you don’t like. Or the people society pushes down. You know, the people we call them.

Perhaps the birds sheltered and cared for by the tiny but great mustard seed turned plant are all the people that many churches and religious people shun; or ignore; or talk about when they are not around.

What if that mustard seed, from the beginning of its life, is indeed rebellious, annoying, subversive, revolutionary, and spicy?

These two parables, if we care to listen, can challenge and encourage us.

Sometimes we will all feel like the tiniest of seeds—fragile, weak, and small, and we’ll wonder if we will ever survive another season.

We go through seasons, too, like the tiny seed.

We encounter dangers and challenges and situations that seem impossible. We go through times when we don’t think we have a purpose and that we’re just blown by the wind randomly. And we certainly have seasons in which we feel cold and unprotected, far from home and far from sunlight and rain.

But the deep roots in all of us, and in the tiny seed—are one and the same. We are all wonderfully made. We, like the tiny seed, can sprout and bloom and become creators ourselves. Perhaps our lives become homes for those who have been left out or pushed down. Maybe when the wind blows we notice all the other seeds [just like us] and decide to relinquish control, to let that gust take us in a new direction.

Every seed will take its own journey.

All of us are planted on this earth in order to grow and to be free.

Consider the Hawaiian poem:

Ua is the falling rain,
La the sun so high,
Together they make Anuenue,
A rainbow in the sky.



Emmanuel AME: Just Be. And Be Not Afraid

Mark 4:35-41

Emmanuel.jpegThis is an excerpt from an article written for the Huffington Post by Rev. Otis Moss, III, pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.

The doors of the church are [still] open.

The question running through the minds of many African Americans, particularly black church folks is where and when will we ever be safe? Earlier this week nine prayer warriors were massacred at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina…

On Wednesday night, members of Emanuel gathered with their pastor in what should have been a safe place…Seated in their midst was a young white man who was a stranger, yet welcomed as a friend…The young man was seated next to the pastor, where he returned the church’s hospitality with unimaginable inhumanity.

The AME denomination was founded as a protest against racism [Yolanda Pierce]. This is true of Emanuel AME, affectionately known as “Mother” Emanuel. Its storied history dates back almost 200 years. Mother Emanuel endured despite being burned down, outlawed and destroyed by an earthquake.

Emanuel AME has been the target of racist attacks, legal harassment and arson. [Despite each [calamity] that stormed the doors of the church, [Emmanuel] was committed to teaching the south “a more excellent way” called love. Emanuel at every turn has responded with love rooted in justice by teaching literacy, producing leaders, protesting unequal treatment, fighting for economic parity and demanding the confederate flag be replaced by a symbol for all South Carolinians. Mother Emanuel exemplifies the best of our religious tradition–liberation, love and reconciliation.

This storm too shall pass.

Despite this breach, the black church will continue to serve as a sanctuary against racism and hatred. We are encouraged by the images of South Carolinians of all races coming together to mourn and remember the fallen.

When we see the faces of those who were lost and learn of their lives, we are devastated not just by the senselessness of the act but also because we know these victims. We know them–the civil servants, the recent graduate, the librarian, the track coach, the grandfather and the great-grandmother.

In honor of those nine souls and of the countless others who preceded them, we will continue to exist, to protest, to remain open, to stand, and to pray. The doors of the church are open.

So many of us mourn with the families, friends, and church members of Emmanuel AME in Charleston, South Carolina. In Philly, Mother Bethel AME, led by my colleague Rev. Mark Tyler, hosted a prayer vigil for hundreds of people. And Rev. Tyler’s commitment to interfaith cooperation and welcome shined through. Muslims, Jews, Christians, Hindus, and many others gathered at Mother Bethel for prayer, mourning, and healing.

In spite of the fear, confusion, and sadness—

Their doors were open.

I don’t have much to say about what happened other than it makes me sick, angry, and sad. So I cannot imagine what others feel. This kind of storm seems insurmountable. And where is God in all this?

So I suppose it’s appropriate to reflect on Mark’s Gospel story about some horrified disciples stuck in a boat in the middle of a storm while their teacher Jesus slept.

They were doing what they were supposed to do. They were listening to Jesus, reaching out to people who had been marginalized by religion, society, and government. They were in a boat going to the other side where others did not dare to go. And then, without warning, the storm came. They weren’t protected; they were vulnerable, exposed, afraid.

Jesus was asleep, unresponsive to their fears.

Until they awakened him and then he asked:

Why are you afraid?

Seems like Jesus was asking them why they had allowed their terror to overcome their faith—to lessen their commitment to journeying to the other side. And Jesus commanded:

Peace! Be Still!

This kind of peace was aggressive.
The disciples took notice. They were in awe. Jesus spoke peace to terror; love to hate; mercy to judgement; friendship to isolation; healing to sickness; forgiveness to resentment; justice to injustice.

And so they kept going in their boat…to the other side, well aware of the dangers ahead and that things would not be comfortable or perfectly ordered, or even completely safe.

During the storms, when we wonder where God is, how do we respond?

My colleague, the Rev. Waltrina Middleton, United Church of Christ National Minister for Youth Advocacy and Leadership, wrote this on Thursday:

waltrina.jpegWith deep sorrow, I write to share that my beloved first cousin was among the nine fatalities. Her death was confirmed this morning, and the unspeakable grief of this loss has knocked me and my family off-kilter.

Please keep my family, Mother Emanuel congregation and all those impacted by this rampant culture of violence in the center of your prayers.

Let us come together for such a time as this to the sacred clearing—no matter our faith or practice—and be of one accord in the spirit of love, hope, and healing to seek justice and peace for these and other victims of hatred and violence.

Let us put our faith to action and be more than empty drums that have long lost their melodies or arrangements. Let us remove our instruments from the poplar trees and call the people, the public officials, and, yes, the church to action to address the festering sores of racism, classism and militarism—as they intersect in this culture of violence. How can we begin to eradicate this evil without acknowledging the realities of racialized policing, hate crimes, and the disproportionate acts of violence against Black and Brown bodies?

Alas, it is morning and tear-filled dewdrops fall fresh upon my face, with eyes watching God and a soulful lament. Our hearts are troubled, but our faith remains steadfast, trusting and believing in the reconciling power of God for the brokenhearted and the oppressed.

Yours in faith and justice,

She has chosen to cry out to God, but she has also chosen to keep on going to the other side.

How about the rest of the families who lost loved ones on Wednesday night?
Have you seen the video from the courthouse?
As the terrorist thug who took so many lives stood there, grieving family members expressed their sorrow. But then they verbally told him:

We forgive you.

I don’t know if I would have been capable of such a thing during such a storm.
But even as they cried out, they forgave.

Peace be still!

The miracle is in the justice and love work that people still do while they’re in the storm or down in the depths.

I have no doubt that Mother Emanuel AME Church will continue to be the miracle it has always been, just like Mother Bethel AME in Philly—testifying to a counter-narrative. No doubt that they will testify to the Spirit working its own history of justice, of peace, of reconciliation for American people who have been ostracized, marginalized, and treated as imposters.

We are, and should be appalled by this hate crime. We should mourn with those who mourn and cry out. But as we have been shown by those directly affected by this tragedy, we must also stay in the boat and keep going to the other side. We cannot allow fear to paralyze us or to make us apathetic about things like gun violence and racism.

In short, saying nice words isn’t enough.
We have to act.
We have to make changes TODAY.

When storms like this occur, we are meant to join together with others. We are meant to cooperate, support, stand with, work for justice, replace hate with love, fear with faith, and we are meant to make peace ourselves.

Jesus woke up and expected the disciples to understand that this was their responsibility. They didn’t get it until Jesus himself spoke peace to the storms.

We should all keep in mind that Mark’s Gospel was written to assure people that God was present with them in their sufferings. And it should come as no surprise that this story in a boat follows the mustard seed parable. It’s emphasizing, once again, the freeness of God’s presence, the unlimited, uncontrolled Spirit in the world. And it’s focusing on us–on humans, and how we are afraid of this freeness and this uncontrollable Spirit. We are afraid to let go of control. We are afraid of change.
And sadly, if we grip tightly to that fear, we become obsessed with keeping all that we are afraid to lose—whether status, control, money, power, privilege, etc. We can even go so far as to commit acts of violence against others.

What is racism? Fear. What are acts of terrorism? Cowardly acts.

In Mark’s boat story, faith is letting go of fear–letting go of the belief that everyone in the world is out to get us and so we better control certain people and things in order to survive. Faith is about letting go of this.

And so, as we hear the cries of all those who mourn this tragedy, we must sit and stand with them and join them in their cries. But then, we must act. We must let go of any fears that keep us from fighting against prejudice, and gun violence, and racism and stop making excuses. We must stand up in the boat and say:


We must be the peace we so often hope for and talk about, in spite of the storms.

Why Welcoming Everyone is Crazy

Mark 3:20-35

Two Sundays ago I called the Norristown Courthouse eight times.

Eight times.

You see, a month ago, I received my fourth summons to appear in Norristown, PA for jury duty.


Now this won’t be a rant about someone’s “civic responsibility” or bureaucracy, or the government, or whatever. Instead, I’m going to tell you my jury duty story, because something happened there that mattered to me.

I was shown great hospitality when I didn’t expect it.

Let’s go back to Sunday night. I didn’t sleep well. Perhaps I was anxious and overly tired, because I usually am on Sundays, and Monday is my day off. Or maybe I was anticipating something new and interesting; after all, I had received jury duty summons before but never actually had to show up. My lawyer friends scoffed, knowing that a clergyperson such as me would never get selected for a petit jury, much less a criminal case. But I couldn’t sleep, maybe because I thought: why not?

I rolled out of bed on Monday morning—resembling the freakiest of zombies—and I made my way to the courthouse. I went through the metal detector, scanned my little summons paper at the door and showed my ID. I put on my plastic badge with my juror number; I was in!

The room was packed. There were 300 people in there. Whoa. I couldn’t believe it.

jurorNo food, no drink. Just sit down.

That’s what the sign said.

Everyone looked tired. Some were visibly cranky. One guy all dressed up in his suit and with a briefcase, sauntered about the room as if to say:

Look at me. I’m so important. Can’t you see I have better things to do? Look at me!

One lady, in front of me, was intensely knitting something as if to say:

This is our lot in life. Suck it up, grin and bear it, we’ll be here for a WHILE.

Two other ladies in front of me gossiped about their families; a woman in a hijab asked me and the woman sitting next to me if we knew exactly what these numbers meant on our plastic badges. One lady didn’t my eye contact with a single person while she frittered away on her laptop. People kept coming in; some were visibly frustrated with traffic, or the parking, or perhaps…life in general?

The lady on staff who scanned us in and gave us our plastic badges entered the room periodically and said:

Juror number 5609, you need to fill out your juror info form. 5609? 5609?

Bueller, Bueller, Bueller?

bueller-anyoneThough we were all supposed to arrive at 8:00 a.m., it wasn’t until about 9:00 a.m. that the same lady patiently calling out numbers put in a DVD to fill us in on all the details of being a juror. The DVD speaker, Larry Kane of Comcast, reminded us:

If you are in need of an internet connection, you may visit the juror’s lounge and ask for the internet connection cable. That way, you can connect it to your laptop.

Yeah, thanks, Larry. But the nice lady calling out numbers just told us that wi-fi was free.

The DVD mercifully ended with Larry telling us how much of a privilege it would be to serve as a juror.

Another period of time passed.

tell-me-again-about-jury-duty1The kind lady who scanned us in, gave us our plastic badges, called out the numbers of people who hadn’t filled out their info forms, explained the DVD, answered a multitude of questions, and continued to run back and forth to the courtrooms—finally addressed us again around 10:30 a.m.

She maintained her bright smile and said:

Okay, everyone, thank you so much for your patience. They are ready for you, so what I’m going to do know is to read off 50 juror numbers. If your number is called, that means you have been randomly selected. Please stand and I will escort you to where you need to go.

She paused and smiled.

And I know that you’re tired and that the weather isn’t great, but hang in there. We will get you moving, and those of you who aren’t called, you are free to use the facilities or to get a drink of water, or whatever you need. Thanks again for your patience and your service.

One guy behind me sighed so exasperatingly loud that I could feel his eyes rolling even though I couldn’t see them. Another lady to the right shook her head in disgust.

But the patient, kind lady wasn’t fazed. She started calling juror numbers. My number ended with a 09. Numbers 08, 07, 06, and 10 were all called, but not mine.

Some people breathed a sigh of relief, others scoffed in disappointment.

And…the 50 chosen—they left…

Never to be seen again.

Finally, it was about noon and the kind-hearted, smiling, patient, hospitable lady [how I now thought of her] addressed the remaining lot by saying:

Some news, everyone. The last case to be tried is a criminal case.

Some groans in the crowds.

It has now gone to bench. So yes, I’m sure some of you know what that means. You’re free to go home! Don’t forget to scan your papers on the way out so you receive your stipend check in the mail. And thanks for your service.

And with that, three people actually said, a la Homer Simpson:


We filed out of the courtroom. Some people were actually running. I’m not kidding. Cars whizzed out the parking lot.

As I sat in my car, I reflected on how jury duty experience had been so less painful than I thought. Why? The welcoming, hospitable, incredibly-patient lady on the petit jury staff who led our tired, grumpy lot through the morning.

On an early Monday morning in Norristown’s Courthouse, that seemed crazy.

Crazy, why? Because true hospitality is crazy. Do you know who was in that crowd of 300? Women and men of various socio-economic levels; people of all sorts of cultural and ethnic backgrounds; transgender folk; religious and non-religious folk; people late and people early; people eager and people confused; full of all kinds of people.

And yet, that woman welcomed us all. Truly. I saw it.

And you may think I’M crazy for saying that this staff member of Norristown’s Courthouse was more like Jesus than most churches, but for me, it was true.

So let me explain why, and then you can draw your own conclusions.

Jesus of Nazareth, in Mark’s Gospel narrative, even as early as chapter 3, is already called crazy. The crowds who followed him, his own disciples, his own family—they are all confused about what he’s doing and saying, and they’re afraid of what might happen to him. Already Jesus had cast out a couple of demons and healed some sick people, and it was getting worse. He hung out with so-called sinners [called the untouchables]. One of his disciples collected people’s taxes; Jesus found it convenient to heal people on the Sabbath. So from the get-go, Jesus’ brand of religion did not fit the religious laws or social customs of the day.

So it’s no surprise, don’t you think, that people called Jesus crazy. Well, in their words, they called him demon-possessed, but in our context, demon-possessed would be batty, nuts, bananas, 5150ed, bobo, bonkers, certifiable, cray-cray.

Even his own family thought he was a little coo-coo, and that’s why they started to get protective. Can you blame them? Any parent out there, do you want your son or daughter to be at risk? Would you be happy if they chose a vocation or a calling that led them into danger, no matter how important it might be? Parents and family go into protective mode.

Jesus, stop. Just stop already. Tone down this radical hospitality to all people. It’s dangerous.

It’s been my experience that most Christians who regularly attend churches often think of hospitality as being friendly and nice to people—especially new visitors. But it’s usually temporary, because eventually, most church folk expect said new people to blend in eventually and learn the way that the church already does things.

Well, that’s not cray-cray Jesus’ brand of hospitality. Instead, Jesus meets people where they are and as they are. Everyone’s invited, no matter how messy and chaotic it may become.

That’s called radical welcome.

So I’m left with this question: are we considered crazy for the radical hospitality and welcome we show to all people?

We should be.

We should be pushing the limits of what hospitality and welcome mean—no matter how crazy it may sound or if it’s not religiously or socially acceptable.

If we truly embrace the radical welcome of Jesus for ourselves, this ought to be reflected in our treatment of others—how we welcome and accept them as they are.

How crazy are we?

Not nearly crazy enough…

Spiritually Free

Romans 8:12-17  Inclusive Bible

Therefore, we are under obligation, my sisters and brothers—but not to the flesh or to live according to the flesh. If you live according to the flesh, you will die, but if you live by the Spirit, you will put to death the evil deeds of the body and you will live. Those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. For the Spirit that God has given you does not enslave you and trap you in fear; instead, through the Spirit God has adopted you as children, and by that Spirit we cry out, “Abba!” God’s Spirit joins with our spirit to declare that we are God’s children. And if we are children, we are heirs as well; heirs of God and coheirs with Christ, sharing in Christ’s suffering; and sharing in Christ’s glory.


What does it mean to be spiritually free?

When you ask that question of yourself, what thoughts come to mind?
What do you see, hear, taste, touch, feel, and experience?

What would it mean for you to have spiritual freedom?

Let’s start our conversation with a dialogue about spirituality itself.

What is spirituality?

Today there is most certainly confusion about this word or the idea of being “spiritual.” Some confuse spirituality with religion and others completely separate the two things.

And I’m sure you’ve heard of the ongoing conversation about the label “spiritual but not religious.”

Let’s be clear about something—spirituality does not require religion whatsoever. Spirituality is not even about going to a church, praying, or doing religious rituals. Religion can be, for some, a launching pad for spirituality. But not for everyone. Spirituality is free from even religion.

Let’s define it:

Spirituality is the seeking and the experiencing of something greater than the physical, material world.
It is the seeking and experiencing of something greater.

This seeking and experiencing happens in our minds, without a doubt. To say that we don’t use our brains in the spiritual journey is to deny what is absolutely essential. NO, we have to be aware and we need to use our brains in the seeking of spirituality.

Psychologists like Dr. Itai Ivtan, who wrote the book Awareness is Freedom: the Adventure of Psychology and Spirituality, agree. Dr. Ivtan states:

Spirituality…is all about self-transcendence, which is the experience of moving beyond one’s self and experiencing a connection with life beyond the narrow perspective of the self. Spirituality is an invitation to realize, on an experiential level, that in essence we are truly connected to everything and part of all that is around us and within us. It is letting go of the interpretation of life while moving towards seeing and experiencing life as it is.

He goes on:

Being able to break your old patterns of reaction, and having the capacity to see life clearly, provides an incredible feeling of empowerment and freedom. Knowing that you are not bound to your automatic ego-based reactions, and therefore can re-write the story of your life every single day, is truly rewarding.

Spirituality involves knowing yourself in such a deep way that you are capable of moving past your knee-jerk reactions to things and instead, you see and interpret life as it is.

Every religion, including Christianity, emphasizes spirituality above dogma, doctrine, and religious ritual. Unfortunately, throughout history, we as human beings have been prone to de-emphasize spirituality and focus on all the rest. I would argue that this is why there are so many wars and so much violence in the name of a certain religion. Having met and befriended so many people from different religious backgrounds, I can tell you that all of us share values that completely overtake our differences. It is up to us to emphasize these values, and yes—they are spiritual values.

Paul of Tarsus [south-central Turkey, really] wrote various letters that fill out what we call the New Testament of the Bible. Actually, from what scholars can figure out, Paul’s letters are some of the earliest writings in the NT and certain Pauline letters predate the Gospels. So in essence, as Paul addresses various communities of people, it’s good to keep in mind that the Gospels were being written during and after his time.

That being said, each letter of Paul addresses a particular audience, and while some today will claim that each and every word of the Bible is to be taken literally, I simply beg to differ. Paul was writing to certain people at a specific time and in a particular place. Certainly, some of their issues are universal and we can relate. But we cannot downplay the unique context of these letters. The people of Paul’s time were dealing with issues that we don’t even know about; we are dealing with issues that they never would have considered.

So it’s important for us in 2015 to understand that Paul of Tarsus is most certainly not talking To US, but to another group of people. Let’s read these words accordingly.

The overall theme and feel of Paul’s letters is what is of most importance, not their specific details. So in this letter to the Romans, Paul is talking again and again about one issue:


We have to say [even though it hurts] that in Paul’s world, slavery was real. I won’t gloss over this. Slavery was real. People were enslaved. In the United States and in many, many imperialistic countries, slavery was and is real. People were and are enslaved. This is the context that we share.

So freedom for Paul was multi-layered, and in this sense, I think it is for us, too.
Because, I am sad to say:

There are people enslaved simply because of their skin color.
There are people enslaved because of sexual orientation; or gender; or religion; or lack thereof; or economic status; or nationality.
Slavery is unfortunately real.

And so Paul’s comments do apply to us today, at least in this sense.
Many of us are slaves, even to a religion, or a philosophy.

And Paul says: we have no obligation–at least to the flesh.

The flesh isn’t really our human flesh, but in fact the material world, society, the structures that make up the organized world. To live according to the flesh was death, not in a literal sense, but meaning that if you lived according to the status quo of what the world told you was “normal” or “right,” you would be a zombie. In essence, you would be dead.

So Paul makes a clear distinction between the flesh and the spirit.

Aha! The spirit is about recognizing freedom—that all of us are children of the Creator and no longer enslaved, but free to be ourselves. Paul writes that we are able to call God “Abba” and this is significant. Abba is a term of endearment, you see. God now becomes a friend, a loving parent, a caring, nurturing, presence.

Paul continues to say that God’s actual Spirit joins with our spirit.

Think about that.
Our spirit joins with God’s spirit?

We, according to this letter, are one with God.

I don’t know about you, but I feel and think that we are all meant to be spiritually free. All of us, no matter the religion, or no religion, are meant to be spiritually free. We are meant to pursue what is greater than society, government, religion, status quo, the material world—we are meant for so much more.

We are meant to question all dogma and doctrine and self-righteous rules and regulations. We are made to move towards freedom—breaking everything that limits us. There is something that is within us all, and Jesus of Nazareth said that this something was wind, something that pulls us away from the frustrating and annoying limits of the material world.

We are pulled towards a limitless existence, one in which we are truly free.[1]

So ask this question daily:

What does it mean for me to be spiritually free?

[1] Sadhguru,

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