Devotion and Practice: Finding the Sacred in the Everyday

I was seven years old when I first bowed my forehead to the earth in a karate dojo.

At the time it was simply what we did. We knelt in seiza at the beginning of every class, shared a moment of meditation to calm the mind, took a moment to lay any down the day's frustrations or anger that we may still be holding on to, bowed to one another, bowed to our teachers, and then got on with the business of training. I became completely immersed in it. I loved it wholeheartedly. I would practise my kata over and over again every day until my body knew the movement patterns better than my brain, and I could allow the kata to simply be the kata without me getting in the way.

Of course, I had no idea then that forty years later I would find myself doing something remarkably similar in an ashram in Northern India, kneeling before Maharaj-ji's takhat, bowing forehead to the earth, with tears streaming down my face for reasons that still aren't entirely clear to me.

Looking back though, I can see a thread connecting those moments.

Both the language and setting had changed. The expression of my devotion had changed, but the quality underneath it all felt strangely familiar.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

Not because I think I've reached some profound understanding, but because I'm beginning to wonder whether the thread of devotion has quietly been woven through my entire life... It feels like something that has always been a part of my being... present in me long before I ever encountered bhakti or had a word for what I was experiencing.

You see, I've never really been a dabbler. “Half-hearted” isn’t in my vernacular. When something matters to me, I tend to give all of my energy to it.

Looking back, that's been true whether I was practising karate as a child, serving as a military nurse, running a yoga studio, or studying the Gita. The forms have changed. But I'm beginning to wonder whether the heart, the devotion underneath them has always been the same…

We often talk about our yoga practice, spiritual practice, or maybe you have a journaling practice... We say these things but don't always consider what we mean by "practice".

I've heard the term "practice" used to simply describe the activities that folks do regularly. And then of course we also use the word to describe a professional undertaking... for example; legal practice, medical practice, physiotherapy and nursing practices... though I'd class those as something a little different...

For the purpose of our conversation today, I think the aim of the kind of Practice I am discussing here, is to improve our understanding of the Self or to increase our connection to something greater than the "small-s" self...

Anyway, let's get back on track.

Most of us can think of various practices we've engaged in over the years. Personally, I have practised:

Karate.

Nursing.

Writing.

Zazen (Soto Zen meditation).

Yoga.

Japa.

Kirtan.

But I increasingly feel a difference between the practices and the Practice.

The practices are many.

The Practice is one.

At least, that's how it feels to me.

To me, the practices appear to be tools. Methods we can use to go deeper.

It occurred to me that if yoga asana and journalling can both be called practices, perhaps the word isn't pointing to the activity at all. Perhaps it's pointing to the thing they have in common.

The Practice itself feels different.

We all have our idiosyncrasies, preferences and interests. So it makes sense that as there are many types of people, there are many activities or practices that can bring us into deeper relationship with life and with whatever interpretation of the divine that we might personally connect with.

I'm beginning to wonder whether devotion is what transforms a practice, into the Practice.

Devotion has the power to transform the mundane into the sacred.

But what is devotion?

When I think about what devotion means to me, I think it’s the commitment to return to our practice again and again, with wholehearted attention, love and care.

I don’t think the activity itself has to be special per se, but it is made scared because of the quality with which we embody it... By this I mean to say the intention, awareness, energy, and love with which we perform the activity...

Cooking dinner can simply be cooking dinner.

Or it can become the Practice.

Lifting weights can simply be exercise.

Or it can become the Practice.

Listening to a friend.

Writing a letter.

Sitting meditation.

Walking the dog.

Studying the sacred texts.

Washing dishes.

Chanting kirtan.

The activity doesn't seem to be the defining feature.

The way we engage with it is.

Without devotion, perhaps they are simply practices.

With devotion, they become the Practice.

And I think this relational aspect develops and deepens over time. As we repeat our practices we move into deeper relationship with them, with ourselves, and with God...

[I know, I used the G-O-D word nd that makes some folks uncomfortable, so feel free to insert Divine/Higher Self/Universe etc as best resonates with you... maybe an essay on reclaiming the word God to follow... anyway back to the scheduled broadcast]

And I don't think it is simple repetition makes something sacred.

But every return builds upon the previous practice, and gives us yet another chance to meet the moment wholeheartedly.

Looking back, I think maybe Zen, yoga and bhakti have all been pointing me towards the same thing. They simply used different languages.

These were questions I had before going to India, and these thoughts have been brewing ever since my return.

One of the things that moved me so deeply there wasn't simply the temples or the mountains or the chanting. It was the ordinariness of devotion. People spoke about God over chai with the same ease we might speak about the weather. Devotion wasn't hidden away for special occasions. It was simply part of everyday life, where talking about God wasn't awkward, but expressing devotion was as ordinary as pouring chai.

I found myself wondering whether that was why it felt so familiar.

Not because India gave me devotion, but because the places I visited and the people I met gave me a glimpse of a culture where devotion could simply be lived.

Since coming home, I've found myself thinking less about individual significant spiritual experiences and more about how to live well on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon in Bangor.

Making tea for my partner.

Offering incense before dawn.

Going to the gym with kirtan in my headphones.

Helping family.

Writing.

Doing the laundry.

None of those moments look particularly extraordinary.

And yet I feel they are the Practice.

Maybe that's the real practice.

Not finding more extraordinary moments.

Learning to meet ordinary ones with devotion.

If that's true, then the practices aren't the destination.

They're simply places where devotion can be practised.

I don't think the point is to collect more "spiritual experiences". Or to continually get high, as Ram Dass would have said.

I think perhaps the point is to meet ordinary life with a little more awareness than we did yesterday.

A little more patience.

A little more love.

A little more wholeheartedness.

And to find the sacred in the mundane.

When Ram Dass wrote Be Here Now, I think this is what he was pointing towards.

Not simply paying attention, but inhabiting the moment so fully that it is whole, and somehow imperfectly perfect, just as it is.

More and more, it seems to me that the present moment is where we encounter the divine.

Not because the divine suddenly appears when we become mindful enough, or have meditated enough, but because the divine is always quietly present, just waiting for us to notice.

I don't know whether any of this is objectively true, neither am I claiming this as original thought... My worldview is heavily influenced by Buddhist and Yogic Philosophy... but I'm not trying to convince anyone here... I'm just thinking out loud and sharing my musings.

Maybe a devotional life isn't primarily about religion.

Perhaps devotion is the commitment to meet each moment of life with wholehearted attention, love and care.

Perhaps that same devotion can be expressed through prayer.

Or yoga.

Or lifting weights.

Or washing dishes.

Or making tea for someone we love.

At least, that's where my practice seems to be leading me.

राम राम 🙏