2011: The New Now

Opening the yoga class I attended today, our teacher Elizabeth Cooke asked if any of us had New Year’s resolutions. A silent class of yogis stared back at Elizabeth; not a single hand was raised. She seemed pleasantly surprised. I smiled as I listened to her describe our tendency to “lean into the future” at the beginning of every new year, promising to lose weight, save more money, or find one more way to improve ourselves or our lives. Lately I have been thinking a lot about acceptance and presence and where those words are pointing me. I agree with Elizabeth that those wonderful intentions we have to make new things happen this time of year can pull us away from what is. As she put it, we are here now and we are fully embodied. We have everything we need to be in the present moment.


What if the present moment is unpleasant? Does that mean we need to change it? How do we react to unpleasant circumstances and sensations? Elizabeth said, “This moment might be really crappy for you. And you may just have to be OK with feeling crappy for a while. How hard is that?” It is hard. But it is part of this experience we are having as spiritual beings in human bodies. Many of us fervently strive to avoid pain and to eliminate all suffering from our lives. How does it feel to strive that way? Does it work? Are we getting everything that we want? Is it harder to accept suffering when it comes, or to strive away from suffering?

Each moment brings a new experience, a new sensation. Naturally we love the sweeter and easier sensations. When it is time to enjoy a delicious meal, a beautiful day, making love, watching the sun set or listening to a symphony, we readily accept the experience. And we are thankful that these pleasures grace our lives. When we are in the midst of an illness, an ice storm, the loss of a loved one or a time of financial constraint, what do we do? What “should” we do? Personally, I used to pull away. Often I still do. When I am starting to get sick, I swallow Chinese herbs and vitamins, I drink a lot of tea and I try to “fight it off.” Usually I get sick anyway. Recently I have experimented with accepting sickness as its own unique experience. Sometimes it is an enforced break from business. Sometimes it brings vivid dreams due to more time spent in bed. Sometimes feeling crappy is wonderful because…it is still feeling! I am still in a body, alive and aware in the present moment.

When we accept what is, we cultivate patience. When we accept what is, we are not pulling away from the present moment, or suggesting that it needs to change. One of my sons is two years old. He is uninhibited. When he covers me with kisses and yells, “Mommy, I really love you!” in public, I happily accept his authentic behavior. When he throws a tantrum, screaming, kicking and writhing on the floor, I begrudgingly accept it. If he is in danger, I pick him up and move him. Otherwise, I let him cry it out. I find my two year old son to be a great spiritual teacher.

A great place to begin practicing unconditional acceptance is within our precious human body. Ironically, the sooner we accept something, the sooner it can change, if it needs to. If we truly need to lose weight, first we must accept the condition of being overweight. If we are sick and need to get better, first we must accept that our body is ill. Approaching the body with unconditional acceptance, we are better able to care for it enough to make it stronger and healthier. I have learned this through experience. In 2006 I contracted Lyme disease when I was pregnant. As a result, I developed permanent nerve damage in my seventh cranial nerve. Over the past four years I have gradually approached my body with more love. My recovery has been slow, but I can truthfully say that I love my body more than ever before. My smile looks a little different. One eye is a little smaller. I still believe that I am beautiful. My energy levels have been lower, but I have more physical strength than at any time in my life. Through yoga, I have learned to nurture my body. Through this nurturance, I have gained strength. Through illness, I have learned to feel well.

Through approaching all experience with acceptance, we live life more fully. Instead of leaning toward the future or leaning away from the past, we fully inhabit the now. I have nothing to say about 2011, other than: here it is, and let it be.

"Will I Have Feet When I Die?" Discussing Death with Preschoolers

“What does die mean?”  My son Alec, who is soon turning four, has been asking about death quite a lot.  Unexpectedly, he initiates conversations about his fear of dying.  My two year old echoes him, yelling, “I don’t wanna die!”  Nothing seems to trigger these interjections.  During a recent bath, Alec declared, “When I die, you and Daddy and Rhys are gonna die too, so our family will stay together.”  On another occasion, he asked if he would still have feet when he dies. 

Since death is such a hot discussion topic in my household these days, I am prompted to share how we are handling it.  As a person who is spiritual but not religious, it is of great importance to me to handle this subject with care.  As a mother, I want to encourage in my sons a healthy and open approach to death.  I don’t want to overdo it and feed a growing preoccupation, but at the same time I don’t want to play it down. 

Our family had just finished dinner when Alec’s father launched into a mini-dissertation on the meaning of death.  “Dad, I just don’t want to die!”  My husband, who was born in Scotland, reached for this William Wallace quote: “Every man dies. Not every man really lives.”  He continued, “Here is how I see it, Alec.  Because you know you are going to die one day, you do your very best in all that you do each day of your life.”  He then explained that working hard and doing a good job in every endeavor defines one’s life and gives it meaning.  I was thinking to myself, “This is pretty heavy for a preschooler.  And I’m not sure that striving is the answer to the problem of impermanence.”  I thought about busting out some lines from the Kansas song, Dust in the Wind.  I refrained, not wanting to be left alone in the dining room.

When Alec first asked me what death is, I replied spontaneously, “Death means losing your body.  When a person or animal dies, their body stops working.  Dying means that you don’t have a body anymore.”  He went on to inquire, “Will I die?”  I told him that he would, and that everyone else will, too.  Naturally, he asked, “Why?”  I told him that is the way things work in our world.  We come and go and we are always changing.  And so it is.  I was thankful when he fell asleep thereafter, giving me time to prepare for the next inquisition.

I have been told by psychologists and early childhood education experts that children go through phases where they think and talk a lot about death.  Last year, when Alec’s class pet died, his teachers sent home an article providing tips for discussing death with preschoolers.  Alec’s school director lent us a wonderful book, Lifetimes: The beautiful way to explain death to children.  While I respect this input, it is essential for me to develop my own approach.  I strongly believe that the way we think about death informs the way we live life. 

It is possible to convey peace and confidence when discussing death with children.  Our little ones can tell when we’re being honest and when we ourselves are comfortable.  What we tell our kids about death is a reflection of our core beliefs.  Our culture, our religion and our education present us with standard notions of death and what it means.  Nonetheless, we’re not obligated to take all of that at face value.  According to our own wisdom, we can bring authenticity and integrity to the discussion.  Below are some foundational questions for articulating your beliefs about death.  Based on your unique and truthful answers, find the approach that works best for your family.  

1. Do you believe that there is more to humans than a physical body? If not, then be honest about the finality of death.  One comforting and truthful phrase in this situation could be, “What matters is that we are here now and I love you now.”  A discussion of memories that survive in the minds of loved ones is also a possibility.  If you do believe in a soul that lives on, this is the perfect time to open up about that belief to your child.  We tell our children, “The love and the light in you will always be alive.”
2. Do you have specific beliefs about an afterlife? If you do believe in a Heaven or Hell, think about how to frame these concepts for a small child.  I remember a dream from early childhood about masked robbers celebrating in Heaven.  This was how I made sense of what I heard in Sunday School.  If you think your child is not ready to hear about Hell, dig deeper into the origins of your belief.  Seek guidance from a clergy member.  If it feels wrong to you to talk about something to your child, take a look at that.  Don’t distrust your own feelings on the matter. 
3. What is your view of reincarnation? If your tradition or your personal convictions uphold reincarnation, this belief has a very rich history.  There are beautiful examples of the natural cycle of life, death and renewal in nature as well as in religious texts.  My son has hinted at reincarnation asking if he can live a new life someplace else after he dies.  I have responded that I like that idea but I’m not sure how true it is.  For me, honesty feels best.  We are all growing together. 
4. Does death have implications for the way we live now? Are you a carpe diem sort of person, or does vanitas vanitatum better capture your philosophy?  In my example above, my husband took a discussion about death as an opportunity to explain his work ethic to my son.  According to your own values, does death move us to accomplish more, to give more of ourselves or to fully enjoy each moment?  Your child will see you exemplify these values, but the words you say still have a big impact. 

My Nebulous Spirituality

“Kind prince, many people are pleased and satisfied with the various limited religious doctrines existing in the world today. They all hope to live in the kingdom of Heaven someday and sit sublimely at the side of their personal deity, but by entertaining such hopes and beliefs they only foster concepts of self and others, longevity and brevity, life and death, and so on without end. With such conceptual entanglements they cannot even listen to the truth, much less study, practice and embrace it or explain it to others. In this case, how can they ever uplift themselves to the subtle, central realm to be with the Universal One of One Universal Life?” –Hua Hu Ching, as taught by Lao Tzu, translation and elucidation by Hua Ching Ni.

I follow a spiritual path. Some people call it a spiritual journey. Either way, there is an implication of motion. I am not standing still. I am traveling. On my journey I meet other travelers. We exchange experiences and impressions. We encourage one another in our growth. We may walk together for brief intervals, but mostly we travel alone.

Just as in a literal journey, some of us carry heavy baggage. Others pack light. Sometimes we pack our suitcase with souvenirs, only to arrive home with some of them broken. Our heaviest bags are usually the preconceived ideas and judgments we carry with us. As I progress, I am dropping a lot of this excess poundage.

When I started down this road, my heaviest bag was Christianity. For most of my life, I had considered myself a Christian. I needed to adhere to a defined belief system. As I grow, I no longer need a clearly defined structure for my beliefs. In fact, my spirituality could be called nebulous.

The word nebulous can take on a negative connotation, as in “unclear” or “weak.” Nebulous means cloud-like; misty; hazy; lacking a definite form. I think the formless is beautiful. I like to go that formless part of my mind where new ideas emerge. I love the romantic image of mist covering the mountains. A crystal clear sky is not always the most beautiful. Mist and clouds reflect and refract light creating beautiful sunsets.

I need to let go of the concepts and doctrines of Christianity. I cannot claim to know what will happen after my death. I know nothing about an afterlife. I do not know where mind or consciousness goes after death and I believe that the body succumbs to physical decay. I do not believe in “the resurrection of the body,” as Christians do. There is very little concrete definition to my spiritual beliefs, and I see that as progress. I feel unburdened by shedding my “Christianity.”

I still read and wish to follow the teachings of Jesus. I still pray. But now, I don’t have any predetermined agenda. I can respect Christianity as a tradition and want my children to learn about it, but I don’t want us to be hindered by notions of Heaven or Hell, the judgment to come, the life everlasting, original sin or any other Christian precepts or concepts. For example, I will never tell my sons, as I was told as a child, “If you have premarital sex God will not bless your marriage,” or “Satan is always lurking nearby to defeat you.”

Jesus said, “You will know them by their fruit,” and the fruit that distinguishes Christians from other faiths is not charity. Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus and Taoists are also charitable, as are atheists. Christians are not the only ones giving aid to the sick and poor. Christians are also not distinguished by their message of hope. In fact, many preach about the end of the world and the great destruction to come. The main distinguishing feature of Christianity that I can see is its evangelism. Christians have traditionally worked hard to convert others to their faith.

In disclaiming my Christianity, I am not singling out the Christian faith as worse than the other alternatives. In general, religious doctrine is a burden to people. I simply prefer spiritual development to religious indoctrination. This has been my viewpoint for a long time, but I have persisted in calling myself a Christian when asked about my faith. Usually, it comes out as, “I am a Christian, but…” If I need to qualify my Christianity, then it is probably not serving me well as a belief system. Other Christians will undoubtedly agree with me. We all have the right to claim our beliefs with joy and confidence.

I joyfully claim my nebulous spirituality. I embrace my own values. The cultivation and pursuit of the following values form my spiritual practice: 1) Love, 2) Awareness, 3) Compassion and 4) Equanimity. There are certainly aspects of the Christian faith that are at odds with these values, for example: an emphasis on sin and the need for redemption; the concept of salvation; a focus on the afterlife rather than the here and now. There are many more opposing concepts, but those three alone are enough motivation for me to disengage from Christian faith.

How will I practice going forward? I will continue to pray. I will continue to meditate. I will continue to read the Bible along with religious texts from other faiths. I will practice yoga. I will acquaint myself more and more with presence.

Am I still a cultural Christian? Of course. I will still put up a Christmas tree. I will attend religious services with other family members who request that I do so. I will educate my sons in the tradition of their ancestors and culture. But instead of teaching them that “Jesus is the Reason for the Season,” I will tell them how Christmas was conceived. They will learn about the pagan traditions that influenced Christian holidays and the development of the Gregorian calendar. They will also learn about the unique and life changing teachings of Jesus Christ, whether or not they choose to adopt Christianity as a belief system. After all, they will be free to choose their own values as they grow. Although I cannot know this now, perhaps one day our individual paths will dissect.

Resilience Through Connection

"This moment for you really is resilient, because you are facing [the legacy of bipolar] it and letting it in.  Otherwise it would be fake resilience.  You can slide away from things and use quasi denial, and not want to face it, and that looks resilient to the world, but that starts to crack.  If you have been through this kind of shit, there’s stuff to face.  If you are reacting when you hear and read this stuff, that is good.  That means your inner self is waking up and saying, 'Me, me!  I know about that.'  Giving yourself a season to pay attention to that takes strength.  I think humility is very big.  Doing what looks strong on the outside isn’t always real strength.  In the end, everyone has to face real emotions."  - Dr. Ellen Luborsky, Psychotherapist

I interviewed Dr. Ellen Luborsky in connection with the book I am writing about the adult offspring of depressed parents.  Dr. Luborsky has written professionally about depression and has worked with many grown children of the depressed. 

I have taken a three month break from writing about resilience and depression.  I am finding that this work brings up a lot of emotions for me.  Coincidentally, my mother's struggle with bipolar disorder has taken a negative turn during this period.  Facing this topic forcefully and directly is often painful. 

My major obstacle in completing this work is affirming my own resilience.  Fortunately, interviewing psychology experts and working with my own therapist has reinforced my confidence.  The quote above illustrates the kind of encouragement I have received as a result of reaching out. 

The ability to reach out and connect is actually the major predictor for psychological resilience.  I am a big communicator and have thrived through connection all of my life.  I use social networking and blogging not so that I can live in a fish bowl, but so that I can consistently reach out to others in the midst of parenting two young children and self-motivating on my own project. 

I am decidedly resuming work on my book, and also on this blog.  I haven't stopped reaching out, and I don't plan to.  An integral part of this practice is my spritual column for Patch.com.  Patch is local news, and I love that, because it is a way to work on a smaller scale, and to do, as Mother Teresa said, "small things with great love."  For each column I connect with an individual or group in my community.  Global begins with local. 

In addition to the column, I am going to post regular entries here.  I am excited about coming out of a reflective and nurturing period and sharing the benefits I am gaining with anyone who is interested. 

Discernment: The Internal Authority Figure

“If your friends told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?” Did your parents ever ask you that question in relation to peer pressure? I definitely remember hearing it and thinking that my parents were unoriginal, to say the least. Nonetheless, this trite rhetorical question serves as a reminder to navigate life with our own compass. “If your GPS tells you to drive straight into the ocean, will you follow it?” There’s an updated version.

I have been interviewing a lot of advisers lately. I write a local column about spirituality, Spirit Beat. The column features a different spiritual perspective or practice each week. To write Spirit Beat, I have to connect with people who are on a spiritual path. Most of these people are in the business of helping others, so they have theories and advice to share. I truly enjoy listening to and writing about all of them. This process is helping me to connect with my community and to define my own spirituality.

While I love gathering various theosophical perspectives, I have to be careful to remain detached from the work. On a personal level, I have to exercise discernment. Discernment is defined as “keenness of insight and judgment.” I believe that discernment is personal to each one of us. Only we know what is going to work for us and what is not. Only I know what perspectives are enriching to me and will help me to make sense of my life and relationships.

As children, we are constantly bombarded by messages from authority figures. Everyone tells us how to be and what to do: our parents, school principals, teachers, counselors, aunts and uncles. As adults, we don’t necessarily think about being guided by authority figures, but we are. Many people relate to doctors as authority figures. “She wrote me a prescription for this medication, so I have to take it.” Accountants are financial authority figures. Lawyers, psychologists and real estate agents advise us. We may not think of following professional advice as an act of obedience, but any time we surrender control of our own will to comply with someone else’s opinion, we are giving our power away. Of course, we willingly cede to the advice of others when it benefits us and when we need help. This is obviously the right thing to do, for our own self-preservation.

In following the advice of other people, whether hired professionals or trusted friends, it is a good idea to check in with our inner guidance. If my doctor tells me to take a medication that I think I do not need, I am going to research it and decide for myself. I have done this in the past and found out later that I was improperly diagnosed. By contrast, on an interpersonal level, I find myself listening not only to the people I interview for my column, but to almost anyone who has an opinion to share with me. I really want to know what people think and more often than not, I will give a lot of thought to what they say. I internally give other people the same credence that I give myself. This tendency of mine can be a real handicap. I care too much about the opinions of others, to the point that I second guess my own choices. I know I am not alone in this predicament. So what is the solution?

When reacting to external information from any source, we need to become empowered internally. We need to access the authority figure within us. We can listen to the words. We can genuinely like the person who is talking. In most instances, if someone is advising you they are well-meaning. That’s why we don’t shoot Jehovah’s Witnesses. Even if we don’t like the missionary, we can respect the mission. That doesn’t mean that we have to comply with the advice or even take it seriously. This is where discernment comes in. Am I able to separate what someone is telling me from what I personally believe to be true? Can I hold their advice up to the light of my own truth? I am finding out that I can. I can respect you and me, and follow my own path all the same.

How am I applying this with respect to Spirit Beat? I listen to what people say. I generally admire the individual expertise of each person. When I am able to sort out the information I have gathered, I give myself some mental space. This space allows me the room to change my own mind if I want to. That way I can incorporate new things I learn. In this space, I can also interview myself. “How do you feel about this? How does this compare to what you believe?” It is a moment where I simultaneously open up and create a boundary. I don’t want to be closed, but my mind needs shelter. Within the structure of my internal wisdom, there is always room for an outside perspective.

We can call on our powers of discernment in every informational exchange. It is an ability we tend to forget we possess. We live in a culture where people read headlines and run for cover. We don’t have to be those people. You are at the center of your school, and you are your own guidance counselor. If you are confused about a class, knock on the counselor’s door and talk it out. You’ll be glad you did.

Eye Splinters

A former boss and friend told me, "Sometimes it's better to be alone than in the company of the wrong people." Today as I switched the car radio to WNYE, I heard this advice, "Positive thoughts, positive people, positive outcome." How can we surround ourselves with positive people that uplift us with their words and energy? We make definitive choices about who we spend time with, but we must also give out what we wish to receive. The latter is the greater challenge.

I want to be around more positive people, so I am focusing on my own thoughts. Are they positive? Are my words positive? If not, then I won't attract the type of people I'd like to meet. It is often said, "Like attracts like," and as I look back through my life I see how true this is. My friends and partners have reflected the values and priorities I have held through time. I consciously chose them, but I also unconsciously attracted them.

Currently I would love to meet people who are more focused on the heart and less focused on the ego. The ironic part of that is my new tendency to look for ego-centered behaviors in others. As I focus on posturing and self-importance in the people I meet, I judge them. In this act of judging, I am putting out the type of negative energy I seek to avoid. I would do better to let go of any judgments and simply act like the person I want to hang out with. If I encourage others when I would like to be encouraged, listen when I would like to be heard and give love when I would like to receive it, I will be surrounded with support. This is how I want to start living.

This concept also works within existing relationships. Do you want your child to calm down? Take a moment to get centered yourself, and then ask him to chill out. Do you wish your spouse would open up to you more often? Try being more open yourself. Take the initiative when you feel you have lost touch with a friend. As my husband likes to say, “The phone works both ways.”

Displaying the qualities you are looking for in others can change the dynamic of a group, as well. I have seen this recently in yoga class. It always helps when the teacher sets the tone of the class, but students can also impact the vibe. Sunday I attended a class that I usually avoid. When I walked in the people who weren’t talking loudly were already in headstands or arm balances. I feel that the class attracts type-A personalities and show-offs, but that thought is not going to help me get through the class. I tried closing my eyes and meditating on my mat until the class started. I found that the students near me were quieter and less active as a result. Of course, when the teacher started by asking, “What do you guys want to do?” and someone replied, “Kick ass!” I did not yell, “Namaste, motherfuckers!” like I wanted to. That was probably a good move. I do consciously avoid the class as a rule, just as I might avoid certain people. All the same, if I miss a favorite class and need a makeup, I can still get my practice in and enjoy it. For all I know, the teacher may take it in a different direction or my perceptions of the class could shift. Maybe next week I’ll be positive about “kicking ass.”

“Be the change you wish to see in the world,” taught Mahatma Gandhi. To get an idea of how to adjust my attitudes, I am making a list of all outward changes I would like to see. I will list everything I want for myself and the people in my life. Then I will study that list and attempt to embody it. If I start there, I am less likely to injure myself. Jesus taught, “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.” Sounds painful, doesn’t it?

The Value of Religious Affiliation

I made the decision to have my 2 and 3 year old sons baptized at the church where I was christened as a baby. We had the opportunity to celebrate their baptism this past Sunday on a week-long visit to my hometown. Since we do not have a church of our own, my husband and I were grateful for the support of my mother’s Lutheran church community.

When my father asked me why I chose to baptize my children, I began to articulate my individual beliefs. I do not belong to a church and my spiritual practices are in no way institutionalized. This is true for the majority of Americans and applies particularly to my generation. Nonetheless, most parents I know have held some sort of religious ceremony for their infants or young children. In March, I attended a bris for the first time. My twin nephews were recently baptized. Following these events, I thought more seriously about planning a baptism for my own sons.

My father is adamantly opposed to organized religion. I have many friends and acquaintances who agree with him. Religion can be divisive and exclusionary. Fundamentalist religious practices have caused great harm to humanity by spreading fear, hatred and violence. Christianity in particular is associated with intolerance, war and genocide. My Dad wanted to know how it was possible for me to baptize my children into a church that continues to ostracize homosexuals and includes teachings about Hell in its liturgy. Since I had already given it some thought, my answers to his questions came easily.

Institutions are created by and for humans. Human behavior does not follow simple patterns. No person is all good or all bad. Pitting good vs. evil is convenient, but simplistic. I find it impossible to separate institutions from the people that created them. I have yet to see one political, religious or social movement that does no harm. I made a common argument to my father; Christian institutions have acted both beneficially and destructively over history. He replied that I might say the same thing about the Nazis. For obvious reasons, I disagree. I continue to believe that our relationships with institutions are much like our relationships with individuals: we take what good we can from them, attempt to exist peacefully with them and support or oppose them according to our conscience. One iron-clad approach does not fit all. I do not fully condone or contest any person or any group.

I do not oppose any religion. I understand the energy of opposition. Formerly I worked in the law and will likely re-enter the practice in the future. I know how to entrench myself in a cause. Lawyers argue one side of an issue irrespective of their personal beliefs. In litigation and transactional practice, the law requires adherence to one side. Many people who are not lawyers live life in that way, supporting Y and opposing X, an approach that I find myopic. Resistance requires force and the outcome often disappoints. Hence, I try to spend less time resisting and more time cooperating.

Religious rites are acts of tribal affiliation. This is particularly evident in marriage and baptism rituals. Humans find comfort in belonging. We commemorate our belonging to a larger group through adherence to cultural rites. Our spiritual inclinations are organized into religious systems. When we affiliate with a religion, we affirm our belonging to a tribe. Christianity historically united a large number of tribes under one banner. Human tribes go to war with one another; they also create favorable alliances. If we evolve in another direction and tribal loyalties become obsolete, religion may one day disappear. The importance of religion in modern Western society is diminishing, but in many parts of the world religion continues to dominate thought and behavior. Even in our part of the world, most every person interacts with a religious institution on some level. It takes effort to avoid all weddings, funerals, and any other events with a presiding religious official. Religion has an impact on our lives, irrespective of what we believe.

Choosing to baptize a child is a clear and direct action in support of Christianity. When I chose to have my sons baptized in the same church and by the pastor who baptized me, I affirmed my ancestry. I affirmed my cultural heritage. I affirmed a church community. I also affirmed a part of who I am and what I believe. While I do not endorse every belief and practice of the Lutheran church, I cannot dismiss it as the initial source of my religious education. I am very grateful for the education I received and for the love and support that was shown to me as a child in the church where I was confirmed and had my first communion. I will not dismiss the value of affiliation in the nurturance of a child. It is important to belong; this is an undeniable human need. Religious rituals for children are intended to be sweet and memorable occasions, and for our family, this intent was preserved.

In preparation for my sons’ baptism, I promised the two presiding pastors that I would educate my sons in the Christian tradition. Indeed, I intend for my children to learn about the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. In addition to the Hebrew and Christian Bibles, I intend for them to study the texts of all spiritual traditions. As they get older, I would like to be able to talk about the Bhagavad Gita, the Koran, the Tao Teh Ching, the Yoga Sutras, the Vedas, the Upanishads and any other texts that we can discover together. I will teach them not to hate, exclude or discriminate. I will attempt to raise them in an open and affirming tradition. As a family, we will honor the divine within ourselves through respecting these outward expressions of divinity. At the same time, my sons will benefit from the context of a particular familial and cultural tradition.