Landing on Secular Shepherdess
Photo by Mara Miske
Like many people, I walk around with a love/hate relationship with labels. My brain finds them extremely useful, but I balk at wearing them when they don’t fit just right. So, of course, there’s a story for how I landed on Secular Shepherdess.
Krista Tippett often leads off her On Being interviews with the question: "What is the religious or spiritual background of your childhood?" My long and twisty path begins there. While we said grace at every meal and spent most Sunday mornings in a Lutheran church, my connection to the Christian tradition remained tenuous. Once I left for college, my connection to the church fell away.
Then, in the spring of my first year, my Dad died. I soon found myself in pure survival mode, and keeping my head above water did not have room for any sort of spiritual practice.
I spent seven years in that wilderness. I don’t remember much of it. I remember feeling awkward. I remember having a volatile temper. I remember the broad strokes of those years, but there are very few stories to be had.
Then, my neighbor invited me to church. It was one of those big, evangelical ones where you met in smaller groups on Thursday, had a singles activity most Friday nights and Saturday mornings, and had service on Sunday. Attention was focused on those who were not yet baptized into the church. As isolated and alone as I felt when I first got the invitation, the whole experience served as a ring buoy, keeping me afloat while slowly reeling me back to connection with people.
The friends I made in the church saved my life. Their curiosity and attention convinced me that I mattered. With their encouragement and prodding, I took the first of many steps out of the self-imposed isolation my life had become after Dad died. I also started therapy during this period because actually living with other humans will stir some stuff up, and I needed help learning how to deal with it.
Looking back, I can see that I became a member of the church because of the impact of the people in my life, more so than a rock-solid belief in the church teachings. So, it’s not unsurprising that over time the broader church culture began to chafe. From the accepted roles of women to the stance on LGBTQIA+ issues to the forced separation of the married folks from the single folks (unless someone needed a babysitter), the church became a place where I felt less and less welcome. Eventually, I drifted away.
After drifting away from the church, I spent another decade (or so) without a spiritual home as I continued my walk into the land of the living. In addition to therapy, things like improv classes, acting classes, meditation, and even a standup class helped awaken and sharpen my emotional awareness.
Then, Mom died, and I needed to find someone to perform a graveside memorial service because not having a ceremony would not work for me. While celebrating Mom's life, I came to understand that I needed a spiritual relationship with something beyond humanity that connected us all together.
Since Mom’s death, my spiritual practice has grown to include a budding relationship with the Divine Beloved; a regular honoring and acknowledgment of the traditional elements of earth, wind, water, and fire; a recognition of the guardians and guides that travel with me along this path; and an awareness of the influence of my ancestors.
Given my spiritual practice today, I identify as Secular because I’m not really following any given tradition. My influences include the Christian tradition of my youth, the Buddhism and Hindi texts philosophy class introduced me to, and the shamanic path that supports my current growth. I recognize and honor the many people who find a spiritual home within more traditional faith paths, whether they be people of a book or keepers of indigenous practice or followers of a Far East tradition. I’m not trying to fit into any specific box, so secular describes my practice best.
As for Shepherdess, it came so much easier. Another change I made to my life after Mom died was to retire from engineering to craft a life that allowed me to create and hold the spaces people need to heal. I try to be a crap authoritarian, and I believe that we're each responsible for our own journeys of healing and change. So, the best I can offer is to be like a Shepherdess watching over the field, keeping those that choose to join me as safe as possible as we grow.
