When I moved to California several decades ago, I attended my first metaphysical church. Up until that point, I had been a convert of the Lone Ranger School of Spirituality.
The Lone Ranger approach worked out well enough. I meditated. By myself. I read a lot of books. By myself. I learned a lot. By myself. But I yearned for spiritual community.
So, upon moving to the Bay Area in the early 90’s, I found myself a place. A place with others like me.
I’ll never forget the first Sunday I attended. My heart felt like it had expanded a thousand fold. I left energized and excited. I had come home.
And I had. At least for a while.
I joined groups. I took classes. I joined the choir. It was an amazing time.
And then, after a few years, things began to sour. The choir director turned out to be a tad bit homophobic and transphobic. And by “a tad bit” I mean J.K. Rowling level.
It was bad.
What had felt like my home started to feel like my prison.
Even so, I clung on. I had friends there. I had learned and grown so much as a result of being part of that community.
Finally, I started having a recurring dream that I was attending high school after having already graduated. For a long time, I was baffled by the meaning of the dream. Then one day, after twisting my ankle on the way to a choir rehearsal, I got it.
I was done. I had graduated. I needed to leave.
Leaving was the right thing to do, but the grief went on for a long time. I missed the community. I missed singing in the choir. I missed feeling part of something bigger than me.
For years after I left, I would move in and out of a bargaining stance in relation to my old community. Maybe I could start going back. Maybe everything would be different now. My bargaining took the form of internal dialogue and actual visits to my former community.
It all ended the same way: It wasn’t my place any more. It was over.
A few months ago, I had lunch with a friend I’d originally met in that community. We hadn’t talked in years, and we were catching up on everything that had transpired in our lives since then.
Of particular interest to me was their report on my former community. It turned out that my friend rarely attended anymore. The community had a new minister. The congregation was about a quarter the size it had been. They were in a new building.
As she spoke, I was hit with a realization.
The community I had been grieving didn’t exist anymore.
All these years since I left, I’d been feeling cheated. If only that choir director hadn’t been such a jerk. I wouldn’t have been robbed of my community.
But what I was missing was gone. My victim stance was an illusion.
Since that first community, I’ve been a member of other spiritual centers. My life now involves traveling and being a part of many different spiritual communities.
Since my lunch with my friend, I’ve been feeling freer. I didn’t realize how heavy my grief and resentment were until I let them go.
It’s a beautiful reminder that often what we think we’re missing isn’t what we’re missing.
Change is a constant. I changed. The community changed. The community that fits me now is a huge one, with chapters all over the world.
I also know that my first community was a key part of my growth. I can’t deny that my heart opened a thousand-fold the first day I attended, all those years ago. That initial opening prepared me for my life now.
When I think of that old community now, sans resentment, there’s only one thing left:
Gratitude.
Will this experience help me lose the resentment quicker in future loss situations? Maybe. I hope so.
It’s certainly a template I will carry with me, going forward.
What I think I’ve lost may not exist anymore.
When it’s time to move on from a person/place/thing, I can feel the grief, sure. That’s part of the process.
But instead of staying stuck in long-term resentment over losing the person/place/thing, gratitude for what I gained is a much better way to go.
Which is, of course, yet another thing to be grateful for!
What is your experience with grief and gratitude? Share your comments below!
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I raised myself Catholic and the first time I went in to CSLSJ and they said welcome home I started crying…yes, I felt at home and started going pretty faithfully. I bought my husband and friends to the church. I took classes ETC…helped plan parties and so on. Then I started to hear and feel different about the congregation ……some mean remarks and some petty arguments not directed at me but others which I admired…this isn’t what I felt before and I lost interest ….nothing is perfect but I really felt that I had more spiritually in myself than what was there….and I slowly left.
Hi Sandee,
I can definitely relate. Sometimes a place is good for a while, and then stops being so. It’s great that you knew yourself well enough to know when it was time to go!
Thank you so much for your comment!
XOZ
What a wonderful article, Rev Z. It’s got me reflecting on things I might be “missing”… 🤔
I’m also reminded of a woman I knew whose husband left her early in their marriage, and even though she went on to lead a rich rewarding life, part of her had “What if … ? Sigh” thoughts. Some years later, she ran into him, and her first thought was “I’ve been thinking about THAT?!!?” Clearly, she wasn’t the remotest least bit into him anymore!
Hi Joyce,
Great to hear from you! And hahahahahaha. What a great story. It’s such a great example! We both miss you and love you!
XOXOZ
Come on Z,
You’ve got to stop copying my life! This is getting ridiculous! Let me explain.
I am an expert in inflicting self induced pain by thinking I am the only one going through a difficult situation. Now that I have discovered you and Meli, you both let me know that I am not the only one! Over and over again! I, too, was ensconced in a church home for 30 plus years until the Minister fired the musical directors who I worked closely with during the pandemic, and who had become my very good friends. My grief over leaving my church home was legendary. Missing my church family made me try to go back a couple of times, but I just couldn’t last through the sermon that I perceived as being so hypocritical. I realize now that the abrupt firing caused a trauma that I was not able to cope with. Also realize that for a couple of years I was suffering from PTSD because I kept looping this event in my mind. I felt constricted and just downright awful. Then came the date that will live in infamy, Nov. 13, 2022 viewing the Napa Valley Center for Spiritual Living service with Meli and Z. I truly believe my healing started with, “Love is the only truth, and the only truth is Love.” Listening to Tara Brach has also helped, making me realize that “It’s not my fault”
Anyways, I am at peace now and have great faith that my next spiritual home is waiting for me. In the meantime, I am so grateful to the both of you for keeping me in the Divine groove.
Love you both!
Gary
Hi Gary,
But it’s so fun to copy your life! 🙂
Reading the comments for this post – including yours – are making me realize how common this experience is of losing a church home, and how painful it can be. And I am grateful that the work that Melissa and I are doing is resonating with you. Yay! We are so grateful for that! And we also hold for you finding your next wonderful spritual home!!
XOZ
Thank you, Z🥰 I had a similar experience. Crying with joy for months after my first visit. Then this enormous period of spiritual growth as part of a precious community. The services, the classes, the music, the prayer groups – and the people I felt were “my tribe.” (You and Melissa were part of this.) Then things began to erode. Small things that kept getting bigger. Guilt shaming (“what were you thinking that caused this situation”) and then gossip and judgment started to grow. Staff embezzlement, discrimination against certain groups, etc. I often felt itchy, uncomfortable, but didn’t want to examine it.
Then I moved. In 2010. Across the country. To the world I grew up in. and ran away from in the 60’s. Since I arrived here, I have been constantly disappointed in my attempts to find anyone, any church, any organization that felt like “home.”
And I’ve been very, very sad. I knew I couldn’t move back, but I was still magically thinking that my original experience was still there and I wasn’t. This post of yours, Z, made me realize it is time to be grateful for what was and to let it go. Such a relief. Such a blessing. Thank you.
Hi Maggie,
Wow. Thank you for sharing this. I am grateful for you – and for the connection we had back in the old days! 🙂 I am sending you big love and blessings in the letting go process. Grateful for you.
XOZ
Thank you, Z., I have gone through the process you describe in recent times. I to am sooooooooo grateful because of the new space and avenues it has produced.
Bob
Hi Bob,
What a wonderful way to see it – new space and avenues. As always, sending you BIG love and blessings!
XOZ
I knew that I needed to move to another area of the country, but I thought I couldn’t stand being separated from my spiritual community. So I did an experiment and stopped attending. After 9 months of no one checking in on me, I realized that I had some other idea of community than they did and I left the area easily. I’d been relating to a fantasy for 20 years. I love my new spiritual community and they love me.
Hi Tracy,
What a smart thing to do. I’m sorry that there was that lack of response from your old community, but SO glad that you have found a wonderful new one. We both miss you and send you LOTS of love!
XOZ
Hey Z, I had not been reading your emails for a while, but I decided to read this one, and it was just what I needed to hear! So thank you for that! As someone once said, “churches are not museums for saints, but rather, hospitals for sinners“.
Hi Ernie,
I love that quote – I hadn’t heard it before. Thank you so much for dropping by! 🙂
XOZ
Thank you for this insight. It can be hard as someone believing in the new thought way to know you “know better” and feeling like you’re not “doing better”. Knowing that things change, knowing that acting as a victim does not serve our highest good, etc., etc. and still feeling stuck. I appreciate the idea that the things we may be grieving don’t exist anymore. It puts a positive spin on grieving the past. And also remembering the importance of gratitude. I am grateful I read your post today. Thank you.
Hi Linda,
Thank you! I am grateful I read your comment. And yes, gratitude can make such a HUGE difference in everything, including grief.
BIG Love,
Z