I believe we desperately need ‘normal’ spiritual people.

The ones who swear, and get jealous, and kick their cat once in a while, and sometimes drink too much, or wanna hide under a blanket for a week when they feel like shit.

The ones who do or don’t meditate (because it doesn’t really matter).

The ones who don’t necessarily lóók or act spiritual and flawless and sage-like.

The ones who own their darkest moments, and put them right next to their brightest experiences.

I believe that would be helpful.

I’d like to see spirituality as the most normal thing in the world.

The vibrant, living glue that holds everything together.

And the building blocks of our everchanging stories.

The beauty, and the ugliness.

The pain, and the relief.

The unconsciousness, and the consciousness.

No beads, no robes, no pictures of enlightened bearded corpses, no mantra’s, no yoga, no silent retreats, no meditation cushion, no fucking namaste.

At least not as an obligation, as proof of anything.

Just this tiny bit of being awake to something other than our mental circus and hopeless stories, a glimmer of this elusive totality.

While totally keeping it real.

I believe it would be the biggest thing in the world.

But it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

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