On Cultivating Supportive Practices Beyond Religion
“Listening deeply and inwardly allows us to keep meeting the outer world with our inner being, and this mysteriously keeps us and the world vital.”
-Mark Nepo
I was sitting in the pastor’s office for my weekly mentorship. I had been hired as the youth pastor in a small evangelical church and mentorship was part of my job description. I asked my pastor a question about meditation; I was drawn to it, and wondered why it was not discussed more. The pastor’s face immediately tightened.
“Emptying the mind is dangerous. It can open the door to the devil.” He held his hands out in front of him like a bowl to illustrate. “When there’s nothing to fill that space, Satan sees it as an opportunity.”
Years later, wanting to start a mediation practice, I noticed that even though I had consciously stopped believing that old idea, a thread of fear still lingered. What if there was some truth to it?
Though it took time, meditation has since become one of my most supportive practices. I know now about the countless studies that have been done demonstrating the benefits of meditation on the brain, including the release of neurotransmitters that improve mood. I’ve yet to experience an “empty mind” but I have experienced a calmer mind.
My meditation practice supported me through a year-long depression after the birth of my first child, through some very sketchy financial years, and continues to buoy me up in times of difficulty.
If we’ve been in a high-control religion or spiritual community, we were probably told that our spiritual practices had to be carried out in certain ways. In addition, we may have internalized fear messages that other kinds of practices were off-limits.
Meditation, nature rituals, chanting, dancing under the stars, talking to trees—as a nature lover, these were expressions that came naturally to me. But in evangelical spaces, I quickly got the message that they were questionable and could land me in dangerous (re: pagan, satanic) territory. So early on, I rejected these inclinations and learned to get on board with the practices offered by my church.
(Side note: I would have made a better catholic; the candles, robes and holy water were more appealing to me! The apostolic church I attended offered dopamine-inducing revival meetings, alter calls, and the odd Sunday night potluck. But at least it was something.)
Leaving religion or going through a faith change can mean we lose whatever spiritual practices we once participated in. Even if we’re relieved to have left that old, harm-inducing world behind, the loss of those practices can leave a gaping hole in our felt-sense of purpose. We may attempt to build new practices only to bang into a kind subconscious barbed-wire around things that might take their place. We can feel unmoored, unsure of how to move forward in shaping a meaningful life.
A Few Notes on Practice
To practice (verb) is to do something on a regular basis with attention and intention. We practice the piano or speaking Italian or slam-dunking the ball in the basket. We practice in order to improve.
Then there’s the kind of practice (noun) that tends to a person’s inner life. Francis Weller, author of “The Wild Edge of Sorrow”, says:
“Every one of us has encountered times when we felt as though we were in the middle of an immense storm. The winds were fierce, and the downpour felt biblical. In these times, we can easily be tossed about, roiling in the waves that crash on the shore. Practice helps to root us, to anchor our internal presence to something solid.”
But how exactly do we do it?
Naming the loss of old spiritual practices (even if we didn’t label them as such in religion) is the first step toward building new ones. The next step is to get curious about what might feel deeply nourishing. Aim small—five minutes, ten minutes. If that feels good, increase the time or add another practice.
I’d like to offer a few suggestions for small practices you might consider trying. If some of these are familiar or not your cup of tea, you could use them as a springboard into crafting your own.
Suggestions for Practice
Move: A simple movement practice like yin yoga, somatic movement or sun salutations can be a wonderful way to start or end the day, bringing you into connection with your whole self via the body.
Light a Candle: In the morning or right before bed at night as a way of honouring the day. Let the flame burn for five or ten minutes and simply be with your breath.
Create a Sacred Spot in Nature: The base of a tree. A garden swing. A sitting-rock by the river. The front stoop. Taking a few minutes to breathe in the natural world can imbue the day with presence. If you can take off your shoes and get the grounding effects of direct contact with the earth, even better.
A Nature Ritual: If you take nature walks, gather a stone to receive new energy. On the next walk, release it back into the world. Life coach, Martha Beck, gives this practice to her clients when they are feeling like they want to welcome change into their lives. I find this practice keeps me connected to the shifting rhythms of life and I always have at least one stone in my coat pocket.
Journal: There are numerous methods for keeping a journal. A “brain dump” consists of dumping all your thoughts onto the page, which is especially helpful for overwhelm. “Morning Pages” is a practice from creative teacher, Julia Cameron, and consists of 3 pages of long-hand free-writing. An anchoring prompt I and a lot of my students like is:
What do I feel?
What do I need?
What do I love?
What do I really want?
The method doesn’t matter so much having some quiet time to reflect on the page.
Gratitude: Gratitude lists are common and I highly recommend them. However, I prefer a variation I invented years ago when I was struggling with depression and beauty felt nearly impossible to find. I forced myself to list 10 beautiful things every day, and at first all I could come up with were very basic things. “I have legs”, “I’m not homeless”, etc…But after a while, I started noticing things—a blackbird on a telephone wire or a patch of turquoise paint on an old brick building—and I’d think “I’ll put that on my list”. The “10 Beautiful Things” lists helped me sharpen my awareness of the beauty around me. I offer it to you if it resonates.
Loving-Kindness: Also called “metta”, this is a practice where we send goodwill to ourselves, our loved ones and our enemies. A practice of loving kindness works to soften anger, open the heart and cultivate compassion. (I’ve included a guided loving-kindness audio practice below.)
A Weekly Class or Gathering: A Tuesday hip-hop class, a bi-weekly collage night, a quilting club or community choir. A group can be a bridge into deeper relationships as well as a practice for personal growth. If you can’t find one that appeals to you, start something. In 2021, I started an online writing gathering called Cozy Sunday Write-Ins that meets during the winter. A friend of mine hosts a book club. A comedian in my community hosts monthly improv nights at a local cafe.
Memento Mori (A Reflection on Mortality): I learned this practice from Susan Cain in her audio book “A Quiet Life in 7 Steps”. It only takes a few seconds, but with intention and attention, it can bring a deeper awareness of life’s sweetness. In the evening, before bed, turn your coffee mug or teacup upside down on the counter to release the day and acknowledge that another day is never guaranteed. In the morning, upon waking, turn your cup right-side up, and give thanks for another day.
When practices were taken on unconsciously within religion, we might not be aware that on some level, they offered support. But it’s okay. You can choose practices consciously now. Practices that support you, practices that “anchor you to something solid” as Francis Weller suggests. And this can be such a resource as we heal from the damaging effects of toxic religion.
Written by: Kim Johnson
