People have asked me over the years why if I don’t believe in the Jesus birth stories or in his divinity or in an intervening God/creator I still stick with my adopted religion? I’ve never been a religionist, but I’ll be damned if I’ll give up the magic that is the world and that lies within and behind the concepts and dogma of religion, soul, spirit, and God.
The world is full of hate, fear, sadness, brutality, cold-bloodedness, cruelty, heartlessness, and loneliness that often seems to overwhelm its compassion, heart, and love. But underneath it all I’ve always detected a deeper spirit and a bigger self. The church that I immerse myself in is a constant reminder of the existence and value of the meta self, the bigger self, and the magic of the soul self. It’s a reminder that I am bigger than my image of myself, or my image of the world.
With the exception of what I experience when watching a child play, learn, and create or when people give real love to one another, most everything else is pretty blah, petty, and every day meaningless, purposeless, and unimportant. But in the light of my inner soul all of that is of no consequence, a pale imitation of the reality that lies just beyond the veil of my ego.
No, I’m not a follower of Jesus, Muhammad, or Buddha per se for when I can find it, it is the inner light that I follow and go where it takes me.
The Book of Dreams 