My ‘zen’ place…

I’ve recently taken up motorcycling, after several years of contemplating the idea. I completed a motorcycle training course, passed my skills test, and now have what we call here where I live an “N” permit–not a full motorcycle license, but I can do pretty much most of the riding I want to do–I just can’t take passengers or ride at night. I still need to complete my road test to get my full Class 6 (motorcycle license). I’m also the proud owner of a new (to me) 750 cc motorcycle that in the month I’ve owned it, I’ve already put over 1,000 kilometres on, just casually riding it on my days off. One of my instructors, who went through the very same course as a novice rider herself six years ago, calls riding her “zen time”. It’s the same for me. There’s something about being out there on the open road that just feels wonderful. I can’t really describe it, but I love it. I feel closer to the places I ride through, more in touch with the world around me, rather than separated as I do in the car. I smell the desert sage (good), and the roadkill (not so good), and everything in-between.

Will they ever let us leave?

A fellow group member in an ex-Christian Scientist Facebook group I’m in commented–well, more like ranted–about how a Christian Scientist referred to them not as a “non-Christian Scientist”, but rather as a “non-practising Christian Scientist”. The ensuing discussion was largely a collective acknowledging head-nod of “yeah, we get it, been there, done that,” but this all brings up a seemingly small, but for many of us who’ve left Christian Science, huge irritant: that feeling that on some level, we will never completely leave Christian Science, or it will never completely leave us. Trust me, I think I speak for most of us: we all wish it would leave us.

It was always there…it was just suppressed…

“The compassion was always there. It was suppressed. Now it’s being released, and allowed to act naturally.”
(from a Facebook group for former Christian Scientists–quote shared with permission from the author)

So many of us who have left Christian Science are amazed by the simple acts of human compassion that we encounter day-to-day. We see it in so many places: co-workers, new religious/spiritual communities we join, friends, family, or among other former Christian Scientists. Sometimes, it’s something as simple as an acknowledgement of the grief or anger a person is feeling, and the offer to help in whatever way a person can; other times, it’s a knowing nod, or an “I totally ‘get’ how you feel…”; or it’s something as simple as acknowledging when someone isn’t feeling well, and offering comfort. Compassion comes in many different ways. I am among those who still marvels in this, even though it’s six years since I began to leave Christian Science myself.