I write about recovery from addiction without religion, but spirituality has always been something that has given me great meaning in life.

And the meaning of spirituality has changed for me over time. I was raised without any religious belief and was encouraged by loving parents to ‘find my own path’. I visited a couple of different places of worship in my teens, but didn’t find a home in them.

In my twenties, I discovered meditation. The first book I read was A Gradual Awakening by Stephen Levine. I began to practise meditation, and this was my first experience of opening to a greater awareness, a higher self, or what Eckhart Tolle would some years later call ‘presence’.

Another impactful book for me was Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. In this story, I discovered a concept of Quality, and this led me to explore Taoism a little bit. I’ve alway felt a kinship with Taoism, as if it’s the only religion that I would gravitate towards if I was forced to pick a one.

In my thirties, I started to expand my awareness into the universe. I opened my mind to the possibility that there was a plane of disembodied consciousness that evaded empirical proofs. Rather than ‘you have to see it to believe it’, I embraced the wider possibilities of ‘you have to believe it to see it’. I realized that this was irrational from an objective point of view. But I wanted to explore beyond the boundaries of our five senses and delve into the limitless opportunities of multi-sensory existence.

One of the most important teachings for me during this phase was Gary Zukav’s The Seat of the Soul. This work really tethered me to the here and now, while at the same time providing me with guidance to probe this concept of greater self, the soul, and other experiences such as reverence, responsibility, love, community, and so on. Zukav eloquently and deftly forges a synthesis of Eastern and Western spirituality that is original and universal. It will always be among my most favourite works about the spiritual journey.

In my mid-thirties, my tastes gravitated toward mystery schools, the occult, and esoteric philosophies. I was also using alcohol as a ‘shortcut’ to expanding awareness, but of course this path would shortly lead to my ruin. I trained in Reiki, becoming a master, and opened a small studio to practice my healing work. But instead of caring for myself and for my new enterprise, I spent my time in the pub down the street and eventually had to close shop.

One of my most cherished periods of time during this pre-recovery exploration was attending a small spiritual chatroom in a forum on the Delphi Forums platform. This was around 1998. I met some very wonderful people here, one in particular remains a good friend to this day. We were all experiencing the sharing of consciousness online, years before emojis, social media, and smartphones. We wrote in chat about our spiritual experiences, and in the communing of our energies the chat itself became such an experience. It felt like ceremony, because it was. It was a time and ‘place’ when we believed that the Internet was a vehicle for planetary spiritual evolution. Once social media arrived, that spark was extinguished.

When I entered into recovery from alcoholism, I left behind that chatroom community. I found a spiritual home in the recovery community where I lived. But I’ll always have a dear place in my heart for that Delphi chatroom. There was so much wisdom to be found there. I believe my participation in that circle helped to propel me into recovery.

In early recovery, for the first few years at least, I tried to adopt a ‘higher power’ methodology in order to feel a part of my recovery community. I was not being spiritually honest with myself, however; and that dishonesty eventually led to me relapsing and leaving recovery for many years.

Today, I work a secular recovery program, setting aside questions of theology and softer concerns of spirituality in order to focus on the pragmatic concerns of the personal character changes required to stay sober, recover, and be useful to others.

But I find myself yearning for the spiritual journey again. I don’t know what shape it will take, but I miss that conscious connection to something greater. If I do explore this renewal of curiosity, I don’t expect I’ll try to force it into my recovery program.

It can’t be too surprising to want to return to innocence, to open to wonder as with the eyes of a child. We live in a very dark timeline today. There is a need for spiritual refuge. Perhaps I will seek the Buddha, or the Tao, or even a collective human consciousness that seeks the light during times of shadow. Perhaps I’ll forge some new path, daring to explore some undocumented path. And maybe I will cross paths with you on this excursion.

Oh. You’re reading this now! Then our paths have crossed!