Perhaps the most spiritual moments of my life were discoveries, the realization of something unexpected, a surprise, a moment when I found myself unprepared.

I am an unrepentant control freak. I want to be prepared for everything and I test the edges of this on a regular basis. Counter to my intuition, extreme circumstances have rarely yielded spiritual surprises. If I am open in compassion, it is in mundane moments of everyday existence when I am more likely to be spiritually transformed. I have come to believe that spirituality belongs to everyday consciousness, sensibility, and experience. I didn't need to fast, to eat peyote, to meditate for hours, to pray in a vigil, or to study ancient texts.

Nothing wrong with any of those things per se. Although I'm not fond of fasting and never have taken peyote (the vomiting thing isn't my cup of tea), I have done the rest. I am not judging those who do. I am not excluding the possibility that spiritual experience is found by people in any number of ways. The most spiritual moments of my life were experiences of immanence, not transcendence. That which can transform me seems to be always at hand, a river that runs through my life, and it is I who may choose to go down to the river or not.

Things are not always, in fact they are frequently not, what I expect. Nor are they what I want. If God was Santa Claus, when I leave this office at least one of those cars in the parking lot will be my Lamborghini. I keep finding an old Dodge instead. Sometimes I must admit that I absolutely hate my circumstances. To paraphrase Thich Nhat Hahn, we cannot escape what we hate, we can only transform it into what we love. Wishful thinking does not make it so. It is spiritual transformation.

If existence isn't random, there are no coincidences, and things happen for a reason, then we will experience less suffering the closer we come to cooperating with our place in existence. We were not promised no pain. That's the fate of being born: there will be pain. But if we are both body and spirit and we can become open to what is before us, we will experience moments when we drink from that river, experience healing, and by doing so we may be able to heal others.

There are stories in the Christian tradition, in the Gospel of Mark, where a woman and a man are healed, and in each case Jesus says, "Your faith has made you whole." They were not healed as passive recipients of divine power. No voice from heaven, no lightning, no magic. They reached out, believed, and experienced healing in the unity of body and spirit. They were made whole.

Many times I have ached to transcend desire, fear, toil, and pain. Transcendence is a temptation to not be human. Seeking to never be hungry is also seeking never to be full. Satisfaction is found in mastering desire. Peace is found in conquering fear. Rest is found after a day's work done. Serenity is found in learning to tolerate pain. Transformation occurs when we recognize each within the other: it is seeing things the way they really are. We are neither attached to peace nor do we detach from fear. We do not long for serenity and loathe pain. To accept one gives rise to the other is to see one as part of the other, transforming the other. When we see with new eyes we are transformed.

Spirituality isn't about whether or not my lot in life is fair, that's a judgment about how others and the world treats me. It has much to do with my ability to treat others with compassion. This is not the same as allowing others to take advantage of me. There's an old saying that if you pick up a snake and it bites you, don't be surprised. It's a snake. It doesn't want to be picked up. Perceiving things and people the way they really are includes using your intelligence so you pick up as few snakes as possible. Compassion for the snake is keeping your distance because that's how the snake likes it.

I have difficulty with the notion of imposing spirituality on others. This sometimes takes the form of religious dogma or absolute spiritual truths, over which wars have been fought, inquisitions held, and much sorrow and evil have resulted. The critics of people who reject dogma have argued that moral relativism is a kind of evil. Morality, they claim, must be based upon moral constants that are unchanging like scientific facts.

As a practical matter, we all tend to engage in situational ethics. Almost everyone would lie to a killer holding a weapon on their child to gain a temporary advantage, for instance, because telling a lie under those circumstances is a far lesser evil than permitting the cold blooded murder of your child. A thousand other examples might be offered. It simply does not follow that if you believe in religious absolutes that your morality will be plug and play. We all have to use our heads and hearts. No set of rules can anticipate every circumstance. Doing the right thing is not something you can always look up in a book.

Spirituality is not the same as religion. Religion tends to be social, organized, and has a hierarchy of concentrated power and wealth. Those who adhere to the rules and profess the doctrine belong. Those who do not profess cannot belong.

If humans are body and spirit, we all belong. What connects us is far greater than what divides us. Whoever preaches fear and exclusion is not preaching spirituality, they are preaching politics and power. The river of spirituality flows right here and when we reach out and believe, we can be washed and refreshed. If we are mindful, we will be struck by the awe that it connects us all. In a moment we can be made whole.