God Has to Make Sense!

The trail emerged from the forest and clambered up a granite outcropping. From the high point we could see the autumn-dressed landscape and a glint of water in the distance. Fall was at its peak, with colours flung like laughter across the valley. Such carefree exuberance! We crossed the massive rock, uplifted by the splendour. There were no trail markers here so we skirted the edge, searching for a way down. Not much choice. A narrow crevice dropped to a shelf that crossed the face of the cliff. It was twelve feet steep, with loose rock and precarious hand-holds. Cautiously we descended, helping each other.

Hiking down the ridge, it was as warm as a summer day. By the time we entered the forest again, the shade was a relief. Here the air was drenched with autumn. We breathed that rare perfume. Gold, scarlet and maroon leaves rippled against brilliant blue. Everything pulsed with life. My heart opened to the breathtaking beauty, and I became aware of living harmony and intelligence all around. I could feel the roots beneath my feet drinking and growing and knowing. I could feel the branches and leaves celebrating. We were immersed in truth, in all-pervading life. We walked, not speaking, embraced and awed.

Finally reaching the water's edge, we crouched, peering into the gold-green depths. It was clear enough to see the dappled stones on the bottom. Minnows darted here and there. All at once a baby turtle drifted into view, paddling lazily in the current. He studied us nonchalantly. We looked at him and each other, and burst into laughter. Such attitude for a little speck of life! Looming winter did not trouble him. The season was late, but he floated without a care. He would know when it was time to dig his muddy bed. He would just know and be fine. In that moment was proclaimed eternal, unfathomable perfection.

This ordinary turtle struck me as utterly remarkable. How could the vast diversity of life fit seamlessly together without intelligent source? How could all this exist without God! Does it not blaze of divine truth? I grew dizzy from it.

When I walk in Nature's kaleidoscope, I know without reflection or doubt, that there is one Truth. There are many religions, uncountable spiritual perspectives, but there is only one Truth. Whatever this truth is, it is immense. We cannot comprehend it and we cannot deny it. It is so wonderful we cannot even imagine it. Can we comprehend how a flower is born, manifesting delicacy and fragrance and beauty? Can we explain how Michelangelo and Mozart created their astonishing art? The vast secrets of the universe are hidden, the depths of the human being, unfathomable. Sometimes it is expansive, like my experience with the trees and the turtle, but most often, it is a whisper.

Undeniably the spiritual impulse is intrinsic to human nature. No race, religion, age or social structure can negate it. Mankind's most magnificent art and architecture proclaim it. All cultures, past and present, shows evidence of spiritual preoccupation. Sometimes the wealth of a whole civilization is committed to honouring divinity.

Aspiration is evident in every human life. Every person sustains a desire to love and be loved. We long for intimacy and in this intimacy are driven to procreate. What bliss is experienced in the passion of new love! And when a child is born, the parents' joy is unbounded. An inherent need is fulfilled. Our humanity is expanded. We do not consciously reflect in these circumstances that the flood of joy is a spiritual experience, but we have to admit that it is not quite the same feeling as buying a new car!

The diversity of human experience confounds us. How the boundless discrepancy that exists between individual lives - not only poverty and wealth, but also intelligence, talent and physical ability? Will we ever be able to reconcile the misery of a war ravaged child with the glamour and opulence of a movie star's life? Will we ever illumine these profound questions? Are these things perpetually beyond our understanding?

The final frontier is not the oceans or the skies - it is the spirit. The secrets of life are contained in spirituality, for without the spark of spirit, there is no life. We will never answer the great questions of life by intellectual effort alone. This is the great secret. Spirituality pervades existence. Everything in life is spiritual. Spirituality is Life itself. It does not matter how good or bad or religious we are - being alive is being spiritual. We are expressions of spirituality - of the divine Oneness. Everything is connected at the spiritual level. This is easily recognized in birth and death and perhaps a few events between, but naively we miss the holiness woven through the casual moments of our lives. We carry on, immersed in the minutiae, but oblivious to the greater picture. Difficult relationships, business deals, even the choice between watching television and reading a book are spiritual experiences. Truth is woven through life - in accidents, scientific discoveries, accomplishment, failure, integrity, deceit ...

We live at breathtaking speed, with responsibility and ambition exhausting us. So engrossed are we in the activity, that spiritual perspective is obscured. The daily routine is devoted to survival, while spirituality is allocated to an hour on the weekend - if that. This is not how it should be.

Living spiritually means recognizing the profound implications of relationships and events and in this understanding, striving to be the best you can be in all circumstances. To live spiritually is to be aware of all things having personal spiritual context.

This does not mean that every incident should be dissected and analyzed. Not at all. Such preoccupation immediately taints experience and diminishes spontaneity. Instead, living spiritually means living mindfully in the context that the whole life includes spiritual intention. Spiritual living is awareness and acceptance of expanded reality. But how? How can a person purposefully and without doubt become aware of spiritual reality and unerringly follow a spiritual path?

The answer is meditation.

Oh no, not another book about meditation!

Yes. Meditation. Meditation is the key to inner reality - the resting of the personality and quickening of the spirit. Meditation transforms a life lived aimlessly into a life with deliberate direction and expression. It opens intellectual and intuitive awareness to spiritual dimension.

The purpose of our earthly life is to advance our spiritual intention. We live physical lives for spiritual expression. All experience is spiritual before it becomes physical. Spiritual reality is condensed into physical form, for our experience.

The system that transforms spiritual reality into physical manifestation is perfect, as is all of creation. Physical existence springs from metaphysical order by way of metaphysical laws - universal laws. Meditating expands the role of spirit in conscious life and diminishes that of ego. These laws are integral elements of the universe - as pervasive and real as gravity. And like gravity, these spiritual laws unerringly maintain the aggregation of physical existence. They apply whether or not you know about them. But we do know them - spiritual leaders have taught us these laws many times. They are recognizable in every spiritual tradition. To our own detriment, we have misinterpreted, misunderstood and ignored them. Unfortunately (and obviously, by the mess our world is in), we do not accept that they are absolute. But, except by the God's grace, they are.

The secret to living spiritually is in understanding these laws. Living by them makes the life experience intentionally progressive. Living in harmony with universal laws is living spiritually.

The meditation method that I teach is designed to help a person live by these universal laws. It is called Colours.

This book is about Truth - about the big picture - the great scheme of things. It is about the truth that turns the universe - turns galaxies and quantum particles, day-to-day events, life and death - the truth that is so intricate and vast that we can only gape in wonder. Religions would have us believe that insight into Truth comes from the study of ancient tomes. Surely I am not alone in being discouraged by the endless opinions that are wrung from sacred texts. Even within a single religion's writing, it takes mental gymnastics to explain contradictions. If spiritual literature were easily interpreted, we would have had one world religion centuries ago. The tenets of faith would not be tangled in dogma and obscured by superstition. But this confusion was unavoidable. A reader of spiritual text can only comprehend at his own level of understanding, through the lens of his own experience. Spiritual writing is often veiled, originating from a high consciousness and referring to concepts that are misunderstood or completely unknown to most people. Allegories, metaphors and symbols, all common expression techniques in spiritual literature, are improperly translated when read from a literal perspective. Interpreting battles as historic events, for example, misses the metaphor for inner conflict. Even if a battle did occur, does it really make sense that an ancient war's outcome represented divine endorsement of national pride? Would it be relevant to us twenty-five centuries later?

Historic events, political and personal agendas, social influences and symbolism must be sifted out of spiritual writing to reveal genuine spiritual meaning. The people and events may be historic, but to be relevant, spiritual texts must be translated spiritually. But even before we get to the interpretation, if words are going to be proclaimed sacred, we have to be certain of the words. If we are going to live our lives by ancient commandments, there must be no question of the meaning. We must be unequivocally certain of their authenticity and intention. Archaic languages, alphabets and materials make this virtually impossible at times. How can we be certain of meaning when writing is in an obsolete language and script? Obviously, the nuances and subtleties would have been long lost. Was Mary a virgin or a maiden?

To make the problem more difficult, scholars seldom have the original documents to study. Copies, laboriously produced by hand, could well have been altered. It is known that scribes were often illiterate. How can we be confident that documents survived multiple duplications, unmarred? And, of course, it is not inconceivable that content may have been changed intentionally for personal, social or political reasons.

What about damaged texts? We cannot interpret what no longer exists or that we cannot read. We cannot conclude meaning from what we imagine the author would have written.

It is naive to think that the inspired works have survived, perfectly intact, through twenty or more centuries. Since mankind affords profound significance to spiritual texts, these are real concerns. Another problem faced by contemporary religious academics is a fundamental principle of research. Scholars must prevent external influences from affecting the process. They must do everything they can to ensure the integrity of their work. The scientific method demands meticulous procedure to avoid preconception and unintentional interference. Elaborate blind studies serve this function in experimental science, but it is impossible, in the investigation of spiritual transcripts, to be absolutely certain that the scholar's personal beliefs do not taint his interpretation. Bias can be so subtle that it goes undetected. What passes as accepted fact, may actually be the limit of our understanding or simply a commonly accepted theory. For example, it is a "given" in biblical interpretation that God is a being - an omnipotent, omnipresent creator. This is how he is interpreted throughout spiritual literature. To question this assumption is either unthinkable or nebulous philosophical theory. Millions of people actually think that God is watching and directing affairs - especially sports events and award shows - from above.

Reincarnation is another notion that is burden with preconception. It is mentioned in the Bible repeatedly, but the Christian church rejects it. There is a Western worldview bias against reincarnation, so millions of people read these passages and do not notice, or choose to overlook, the reference.

Well, at least interpretation of religious writings must agree with the natural world. Right? Nature, after all, is the first "word". Nature is the pure expression of the creative force. The creative force, in religious interpretation, is considered to be "God". Every religion contends that God created the universe, therefore it makes sense that interpretation of sacred writing must not deny the natural order. Well, no. Strangely enough, nature is often interpreted through prevalent religious thought. Rather than seeing the natural world as a template and opportunity for spiritual insight, religion has been notoriously reluctant to accept expanded scientific knowledge if it does not, at first glance, verify entrenched beliefs. No exception in this century, as seen by the perpetually raging creation/evolution debate!

Incredibly, the explosion of knowledge in the twentieth century has barely caused a ripple in mainstream religious thinking. For the most part, established religions have ignored the profound implications of current scientific understanding - especially discoveries that glimpse spirituality. When was the last time your minister spoke about quantum physics? (To be fair, where can the church go with the "observer effect" when God is supposed to be an omnipotent ruler?) At the same time, developments in spirituality tempt science, and the scientific community has, in turn, reacted with predictable scepticism. Undeniably, Western suspicion of all things mystical impedes our investigation and comprehension. What a predicament! The Bible, the Bhagavad-Gita, the Vedas, the Qur'an, the Tao Te'Ching and the Tibetan Book of the Dead contain the inspired heritage of mankind. We have to put away our narrow-minded literal interpretations and search with intellect and open hearts for the universal spiritual truths that these texts contain. This means that we have to acknowledge deeper insight that has been gained in the intervening centuries. If we cannot apply science and intellect to spirituality, then spirituality is nonsense. Or science is nonsense.

This is assuming, of course, that we want the Truth. Let me shift gears here. Let me explain how I came to write a book challenging the interpretation of recognized spiritual literature and demanding that God make sense. It is not that I think my opinions are profound or unusual. In fact, I think that my restless view of the status-quo is quite common. If you have not tossed this book aside yet, it is probable that I am expressing concepts that you have already pondered or intuitively felt. I think that mankind is beginning to conclude that our religions don't match our spiritual instincts. I am following my instincts. God had my attention right from the beginning - the mystery, the beauty, the power ... Perhaps I was told at a very early age that God was everywhere because I can recall my awareness of God through my earliest memories - not in a loving or fearful way, just Presence. Maybe every little child feels his divinity, but with memories of first steps and diaper changes, it fades from consciousness. I don't know, but attached to my earliest memories is an impression of all-embracing purity.

Everyone went to church in the 1950's and 60's (everyone I knew, anyway). If you weren't part of congregation, you were either lower class, or suspect. Certainly, you were looked down upon. We were Anglican. Our playmates that lived next door went to the Presbyterian Church, and other neighbourhood kids were Roman Catholic. I didn't question why we went to different churches until, when I was about five years old, I discovered that we did not all believe the same things. Huh? If Christianity was the truth, how could we have different beliefs? The truth was the truth, wasn't it? I assumed that I just did not understand. I thought that it would make sense as I got older.

But it didn't. To my astonishment, there existed religions other than Christianity. How could that be? A teeming profusion of beliefs became evident, with everyone holding adamant conviction. Every religion, every culture, every generation, every person had his own take. Strange. Was nobody else bothered by this?

As I got older, a couple of other things caught my attention. It seemed to me that church-religion was disconnected from the essence of life. Sin, sacrifice and forgiveness were dry, even painful. Where did the trees, the wind and sunshine fit? I thought that on warm Sunday mornings we should be outside, worshiping under the sky: the holiness of the natural world was obviously alive with God. Except in a few children's hymns, religion did not seem to recognize this. And secondly, I felt a longing that going to church did not ease. Services seemed like the formal recognition of God - a ceremony for God. I yearned for inner connection, but didn't understand that. But I knew there was more.

By middle childhood, I began to feel "bad". I thought that I must be bad because I wasn't perfect. Prayer and inspirational music touched me, but did not make any difference to my life. I knew that God was watching and recording all my sins. Awful things happened to people, and any day it could be my turn. I liked the decorations of religion - the music, the prayers and getting dressed up, but inwardly, I was worried and confused. Every Sunday in church, I cringed with shame. Transgressions of the past week leapt into clear relief. The cycle of sin, shame and forgiveness was endless. "There must be something to it that I just don't get." I thought.

Obviously, the character of God was central to the problem. Jesus was important, but the real mystery, I knew, was God. When I was about six, I asked my mother what she felt inside when she prayed. I wanted to know if God communicated with her when she prayed, whether she could tell if her sins had been forgiven and whether there was any relief to the longing: "Does aspiration lead to anything?" But I could not articulate this, so how could she understand me? Even so, her response surprised me: she said that prayer was personal - not something to be discussed.

If God was so important, why couldn't we talk about him? If God was our Father and Creator, why was he off limits? But she proved to be right. Nobody ever talked about the personal aspect of God - not even in Sunday school or church!

I think it is important that we talk about God. We have to sort this mess out.

As are most children of traditional Christian upbringing, I was exposed to the concept that God kept meticulous track of all transgressions, and that punishment was imminent. To be fair, it was not my family or Sunday school teachers that taught this. A little Catholic friend told me about black spots on your soul and the perilous consequences - eternal damnation in burning Hell! Yikes! (Why do we teach kids such things?) After a couple of years living in the shadow of this belief, it occurred to me that I would not cause anyone to burn for a second, never mind eternity. How could it be that I was nicer than God? How could the creator of birds, flowers and the glorious sky, be mean? No, it was ridiculous. So I rejected the concept of hell. What a relief!

But this, of course, opened a whole new can of worms. Discarding a religious concept at the age of six or seven made me conscious of the rest of my beliefs. If I was going to disagree with the Bible, I'd better pay attention. I loved the stories of Jesus calling the children to him and curing sick people. These things made him seem kind and magical. His words were hard to understand but that didn't bother me because Jesus had said that most people would not understand. His actions were good. Still, I could not make the connection between his sacrifice, and my salvation. Free admission to Heaven just for believing in Jesus struck me as implausible. I thought that believing in him meant whether or not he had existed. Was there actually a question about whether he had lived? Of course I believed in him. Why should that get me into Heaven? It didn't make sense. What was I missing? I became alert to the idiosyncrasies of Christianity. The summer I was eight I had an experience that, although it did not answer any of my questions, gave me some relief. One afternoon, in a quiet moment, I was lying on the ground staring up at the deep sky. Oh, how it mesmerized! Absorbed in this beauty, I slipped into a daydream. But this dream was vivid and came from a place above and to the right of my head. In a moment of clarity I perceived that we are a dream - that God is dreaming us - and that none of this is real. I immediately accepted this understanding, then the instant my intellect reached for more, the daydream disappeared into the point from which it had come. The vibrant clarity vanished. I tried to pull it back, but it was gone. Several times that summer, and the next, when the sun and air were bright, I would lie in the same place in the grass and try to experience that brilliance again. I was not actually pursuing further spiritual insight for I did not understand what had happened to me. I just remembered that it felt wonderful.

In my search, it was inevitable that I would find solace with the holiest thing I knew. Even though I attended church, my authentic connection occurred with nature. The land north of Lake Superior where I grew up is a sparsely populated expanse of forest, lakes and granite. Flung across the night sky is the gift of the northern lights. As a child I was steeped in this beauty and it naturally became central to my awareness of God. Nature breathed the truth. Around the age of twelve, Anglican children attend religious classes in preparation for confirmation. I looked forward to it - finally, some answers. I anticipated spiritual revelations. I actually thought that profound secrets would be revealed. There had to be deeper wisdom.

But to my frustration, nothing was explained. Instead, we had to memorize the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments and The Nicene Creed. The other kids were not mystified by sacrifice, judgment, forgiveness and grace, or the pell-mell assortment of religions. I ventured to ask: if you repeat a forgiven sin, is the first transgression still forgiven? Why do you need Jesus to forgive sins, if God knows everything? If we are all the children of God, how can Jesus be the only Son of God? Why did Jesus have to sacrifice himself for us to be forgiven? Actually, I only asked one question, and I don't remember what it was, but I remember the answer was vague and insufficient. I wanted to know about aspiration and spiritual growth. And I longed to know how it all fit together. God had to make sense! But I was clearly getting vibes from the other kids, "Shut up already!" By now I had earned the dreaded reputation of being "religious", so I shut up. Every kid knows that being religious is even worse than being a geek. Not long after this disappointment in confirmation class, I read about reincarnation and karma: souls striving life after life to attain perfection. I ran to my mother. "Look Mom, this makes sense!" But my mother was adamant. "You can't believe in reincarnation!' she said. "You are a Christian." Oh.

Then the concept that God was pure love came to my attention. It was part of the hippie philosophy. I remember sitting in my grade 8 classroom trying to figure out how God could be love. This was, by far, the most mystical concept that I had ever come across. Love is an intangible power, and pure love seemed unattainable, like God. But this theory was obviously contradicted by babies born into poverty, doomed to a life of suffering. How could the seemingly random misfortune that was part of earthly life be reconciled with a God of pure love?

In my teens I noticed the description of God as "Father, Son and Holy Ghost". Now here was something that fit. God and Jesus Christ, and a Holy Ghost made up of all our souls. I imagined that the Holy Spirit consisted of the united souls of all the humans who had ever been born. This was immense, just as I expected God would be. "Behold, the Kingdom of God is within" (Luke 17:21), Jesus had said. If my soul was, in reality, part of God, this explained my longing. I was separated from the Creator, and my spiritual urge was a natural desire to be reunited. Okay, I could live with that. Approaching adulthood, I was fairly content with this interpretation. I could accept Jesus as a divine being sent by God to teach us. I had to believe. It was all I had. I resolved to try to live by the Golden Rule. It seemed fairly sensible that what I didn't understand wouldn't hurt me if I lived without harming others. I understood that being good was tied to my relationship with others, not tradition or ritual. Instinctively I felt that I was responsible for my own transgressions. But the fate of souls who lived good lives but did not follow Jesus still troubled me. If Jesus was the only "way", what happened to these people? What did "way" mean?

I knew there was more. I suspected that the answer was hidden in the name that God hadrevealed to Moses - "I Am that I Am" (Exodus 3:14), but this was way beyond me. It was so profound that I could not even ponder it.I held it in my heart with my bright daydream. And secretly, I still believed in reincarnation.

It seemed to me that religions attempted to squeeze the truth into a box. Every denomination had its own box and diligently kept the lid on tight. I could not believe a religion-in-a-box. If I was going to believe something, it had to make sense - one part could not contradict another. Nature had to complement spirituality. Science had to embrace the metaphysical. I wanted to be Christian, because I felt that Jesus was the real deal, but it bothered me that Christianity seemed unrelated to the rest of creation. The beauty and miracles of the natural world were indisputable evidence of a bigger picture. The inconsistencies of religion clearly contradicted the holiness (and wholeness) so apparent in nature. It was utterly unthinkable that creation was two separate components - the universe and humanity - the former designed as a set for the theatrics of the latter. I knew that the truth had to be so clear and simple that it would make sense to every person. Eventually it dawned on me that Truth does not engage in argument. It just exists. Truth is separate from our religions and is magnificent.

When I was twenty years old I discovered meditation. It was not part of my search for authentic spirituality. Not consciously, anyway. At the time I didn't even think about meditation being a spiritual practice. Instead, I saw its effect shining in the face of a friend... At the end of my first year of university, I returned to Northern Ontario to work for the summer in a provincial park. It must have been a job, because they paid me. They paid me to walk a three-mile circuit of lakeside campsites every morning, checking to be sure each one had a valid permit. Usually I got back to the office wondering how many expired permits I had missed. I could tell you every bird, flower and creature I had seen, but permits ... ?

Several times that summer, Michael, who was a couple of years older than I, and whom I had known casually for years, rode his bike out to the park. He surprised me by stopping to talk. He would not have done that in the past. And he wasn't flirting, either - just talking. It struck me that there was something different about him. Although he had always been intelligent and fun, he also had had a cynical, sullen undertone to his personality. He was the kind of kid who is the centre of an exclusive clique. I had kept my distance. Suddenly he seemed genuinely nice - nonjudgmental and peaceful. I observed him all summer and could not sense a false note in his new personality. Intrigued, I confronted him. Why was he different? How had he changed?

As if he had been expecting the question, he told me that he had taken a meditation course. With reserved but genuine enthusiasm, he highly recommended it. Even though I had no idea what meditation was about, without hesitation I resolved to learn. Anything that had such a startling effect on someone had to be worthwhile.

So when we returned to university in the fall, I signed up. The course was called Inward Bound IV (meaning that for four days we explored our inner selves), and was offered by the group People Searching Inside, PSI, for short. Even thirty years later, I maintain that the $129 from my meagre student bank account is the best investment I have ever made. I learned about universal laws, the evolutionary force of kundalini, and the meditation method called Colours. They taught that spiritual aspiration was the natural evolution of the soul. The natural evolution of the soul? This was the first time that I had come across the concept of aspiration being something real, never mind natural and universal. The possibility of spirituality unfolding, blossoming, without boundaries and guilt, was astonishing. And the idea that religions all had a common source ... wow! This is what I had been looking for!

PSI was part of my life for a year. The next summer, I traveled to India with 250 people for a five-day conference with the renowned spirituality author Gopi Krishna. The focus of the conference was kundalini, which corresponds to the Christian concept of the Holy Spirit. But the understanding of kundalini was so much more! Finally, the missing link between the natural and the mystical worlds!

Gopi Krishna's explanation of universal truth was clearer than any I had ever heard. A quiet, unassuming man in his late-seventies, he spoke with conviction, personalizing the ancient mysteries. With simple humility he explained enlightenment, which he claimed was the state of his transformed consciousness. And he emphasized the vital importance of the de-mystification of the phenomenon of kundalini. He asserted that knowledge of the kundalini process (explained at length in chapter 2) is the key to the safe evolution of the human race. His adamant desire was that science should study the physical-spiritual transformation of the most highly evolved human beings. He believed that by understanding our human heritage, we would have a clearer perspective with which to solve the intractable world mess. He asserted that the only hope for mankind was in spiritual maturity, and the way for humanity to achieve this was to become aware of the natural physical-spiritual metamorphosis which we are all experiencing - for mankind to be educated about spiritual transformation.

After the conference some of the people from PSI returned to India to work with Pandit Krishna. I would have loved to go, but I was only twenty-one - too young. Anyway, "fate" had other plans for me. Back in Canada I made the decision to go into nursing. My new understanding of balancing the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual aspects of living solidified my decision to pursue this vocation. At the same time, the intense pace of school gave me the perfect excuse to decrease my involvement in PSI. The tone of the group was changing. The leaders, feeling themselves part of a divine mission, were attempting to exert influence over our personal lives. This was against the universal laws and their own philosophy. I agreed with their spiritual teaching, but not their behavior. So my brief excursion into New Age religion came to an end. I had been immeasurable enriched by the practice of meditation, knowledge of universal laws and Gopi Krishna's message, but I was on my way. A short time later my charmed life (loving parents, perfect health, friends, freedom and fun) took a challenging turn. In the third month of my R.N. course, I discovered that I was pregnant. As do most young adults, my boyfriend and I had planned to establish careers and experience the freedom of being grown-up. Instead, suddenly we were married and expecting a baby. I was okay with this, but at the same time it was difficult to see our dreams fade.

We were enthralled by our beautiful little boy. Being a mother was exhilarating beyond anything I could imagine. Even now, working with new parents, I love to watch the dawn of that ecstatic love. Some people actually shine with joy!

But as we settled into parenthood, the reality of our new life emerged. For my husband, the impact of the responsibility was devastating. In retrospect I understand that he was overwhelmed and could not share his fear with me. He withdrew. I interpreted this silence as loss of love, and was devastated. The joy of motherhood was soon eclipsed by the reality of a crumbling relationship. Poor communication, financial strain, the reality of two people going to school and caring for a little one, combined with our immaturity, made the first years of our marriage turbulent. How quickly the situation escalated into a hornet's nest! In two short years my life had transformed from excitement and fun, to exhaustion and anger - undoubtedly the ingredients of a divorce.

It was not until the situation was intolerable that it occurred to me to meditate. In the emotional turmoil, I had completely forgotten my PSI lessons. I had forgotten that I was in control and could affect the outcome of events by meditation. In desperation I began to meditate again. What could I lose?

Through meditation I was able to change my inner response to circumstances and maintain a stable home. Meditation gave me insight and strength. Slowly, slowly, I learned to remain passive and let the spiritual solution unfold. I learned to trust my Inner Self, and God. Our marriage, although still challenged, survived. These hurdles are certainly not unusual. In fact, they are pretty tame in comparison to what others endure. But maybe that is the point. I started with a solid background and was given the tools to cope with any situation. Clearly, if I had messed up, there would have been no one to blame but myself. I believe that if I had not connected with my Inner Self, if I had followed my baser inclinations, I would have ended up lurching from one difficulty to the next, dragging resentment and depression through my life. Instead, even though the challenges of young adulthood continued, our lives improved.

Colours of the Spirit is about spirituality in everyday life. It is about how we as individuals fit into the Great Scheme of Things - how our lives are expressions of the vast spirituality of existence. It draws together knowledge that supports a convincing picture of one truth - certainly not the whole truth, but at least an inclusive theory that exposes the common foundation of religions and the integrated relationship of the natural world - thus, science and spirituality - the physical and metaphysical.

Scientific evidence of the essential link between spirituality and the physical world has finally begun to hit the mainstream. Two fascinating books, The Field by Lynne McTaggart and The God Theory by Bernard Haisch explain in explicit detail, but simply enough for the nonscientist to understand, evidence of spirituality, from the quantum physical to the metaphysical. There is unity that "rolls through all things" (Wordsworth 2000, 134). This unity, when understood by the general population, unencumbered by tradition and superstition, will clarify our religions, revealing One Source and one spiritual objective for all of mankind. Not until the origin of religions is understood will humanity as a whole come to accept that religions are cultural expressions of spirituality, rather than the definitive truth. When science is able to explain the genesis of aspiration, when the mystery of the mystical is unmasked, the greatest irritant between people and cultures will be removed. At present, religions, in their pursuit of supremacy, are tearing our world apart. A necessary step toward world peace is the irrefutable, scientific verification that all religions have the same source and teach the same truths. This is imperative. We, the human race, must come to understand our spiritual heritage and purpose.

This book is not just for "religious" people. It is for any person who wants to live to his full potential. It is not complex or esoteric. It presents spirituality in a practical light. And practicable. It explains why you would want to live spiritually. Contrary to popular belief, living spiritually is not pious and boring. It is not ascetic. Living spiritually is expansive and creative. It is music, sports, work, study, family, laughter and tears, sickness and health. Even sex.

This is a self-help book.

Oh no, not another self-help book!

Yes. And it is the only self-help book you will ever need. Colour meditation can be used to solve any problem, no matter how complex or insurmountable it may seem.

For thirty years I have drawn unfailing strength and tangible benefit from meditation. I knew that when life got rocky, a spiritual solution was the answer. (To be honest, it was not until I understood the long-term, transformative benefits of meditation that it became a daily discipline). Without exception, Colour meditation has eased every difficulty that I have faced. As I watched friends and relatives struggle with similar problems, I wished that they could enjoy the benefits of meditation. As their lives became more complicated and difficult, it was clear to me that Colour meditation would be valuable to every person, no matter what his or her spiritual beliefs. In Colour meditation, each colour of the rainbow represents an aspect of spirituality. By daily contemplation on these seven aspects, they are nurtured in the person's character. Purposefully developed. For example, red represents love. Daily affirmation of love strengthens compassion in the personality. The person perceives events and people around him with a gentler attitude. His mindset is more loving so he does not judge harshly.

Colour meditation slowly and surely transforms the personality. Deliberate, persistent practice elevates the inner spirit, and the person becomes sensitive to his own spirituality. Meditation amplifies the inner voice and sharpens the ear. The person learns how to recognize the spiritual significance of events of his own life - not in relation to a religion, but in relation to himself. Spirit, thinking, emotions and behavior are brought into harmony. Harmony. This is the key. Meditation transforms the personality and nurtures inner peace. As we bring harmony to ourselves, we bring peace to our families. A person at peace affects friends and communities. Believe it or not, this is how peace will finally become a reality on Earth. World peace will only come about when individuals are peaceful. It is a mistake to expect that world leaders can create peace. Leaders cannot generate peace where there is strife within communities, families and individuals. The unrest in our world is the result of individual turmoil. Are not all the atrocious acts that dominate the news every day perpetrated by individuals? Individuals, as parts of families, cultures, gangs and armies are wreaking havoc. A spiritual solution is the only true solution to any problem. The inverse of this is that individuals can bring about change. We can change the world. By nurturing our own hearts, one by one, we can bring a measure of peace to the world. The greater the number of people that practice spiritual living, from their own place in the world, the more peaceful our earth will be. Your spirituality is as important to world peace as is the Pope's, the Dalai Lama's, or that of a monk meditating in the Himalayas. World peace is you and me, and everyone else, being peaceful.