on spirituality

As is common in Trinidad, I was raised Catholic, by my good Catholic mother.  I went to a good Catholic school.  I attended good Catholic mass.

And as sometimes happens in life, I'm not such a good Catholic anymore.  I don't remember the last time I attended a Catholic mass.  My daughter was baptized an Anglican.  My mother has just given up.

Even so, my lack of Catholic observance doesn't make me any less spiritual.  I pray -- and pray every night with my daughter.  I do believe in God.  And I do see His work in my life.

The one thing that has never changed, never once, though my growth from young Catholic girl into not-so-Catholic woman, is the fact that I always ... ALWAYS! ... feel closest to God when I'm near the ocean.  I don't know if it's the power of the waves, or the serenity of the water, or the sound ... but it never fails.  For me, God is in the ocean.

When we were in Tobago this past weekend, I looked out over the ocean, and there, in front of me, was a glass bottom boat.  The name of the boat?

"Fear Not."

Indeed.

Comments

[Guanaguanare]

I totally identify with this. Yes, God is in all of creation but sometimes as individuals, we have special portals where communication flows freely without mediation or noise between God and man.

For some people this is a church, for others the stillness of isolated places and others can find him in the midst of a crowd. But like you, when I see, smell, hear, feel the ocean, my spirit soars. It is forever a joyous, calming homecoming but it doesn't mean that I am sad when I have to leave it. It comforts me on my departure with the assurance that until I return and even if I never again have to opportunity to do so, that as long as it exists it will continue to chant on my behalf.

The restlessness of the ocean is not an idle or involuntary motion. The rhythm of the ocean is the rocking of the mullah at prayer, the mantra that lulls, the hypnotic spinning of the whirling dervishes, the recitation of a never-ending rosary, the infinite spinning of prayer wheels, the rumbling OHM that resonates with every cell in my body. I lie in my bed far away and I believe that, like my parents, the ocean is always praying for me.