Spiritual Rebel Read online

  Advance praise for SPIRITUAL REBEL

  “Spiritual Rebel makes discovering spirituality fun! In this modern-day approach, Sarah’s wisdom, wit, and knowledge take us on an illuminating journey of discovery. A must-read for anyone seeking to find or deepen their spiritual path.”

  —Francesco Mastalia, author of Yoga: The Secret of Life

  “Spiritual Rebel is a fresh and timely take on religion and spirituality, particularly appealing to those who have outgrown more traditional approaches to ‘finding God.’ Sarah Bowen is a remarkably engaging writer, using pop culture references in an inviting, highly personal approach that from the first page invites you to join her in the exploration of the diverse teachings that many of the world’s religions and spiritual teachers provide. She weaves together the parallels and archetypal characteristics of these teachings that are both provocative and sensible, appealing to the deepest sense of one’s involvement and participation in the Great Mystery. I highly recommend this for anyone who is exploring new avenues for their spiritual discoveries.”

  —Dr. Steven Farmer, author of several best-selling books and oracle cards, including Animal Spirit Guides and Healing Ancestral Karma

  “Part interfaith instigator, part spiritual sister, Sarah Bowen will kindly and impishly guide you to the next step of your journey to your own true heart.”

  —Barbara Becker, blogger All Beings Everywhere

  “Sarah Bowen’s Spiritual Rebel is a Jedi-infused, interspiritual smorgasbord of personal/universally attuned stories and activities that can be tried out, tossed out, worked through, and which will awaken and encourage the depth and breadth of ourselves to flourish, even in the chaos of our times. Approachable, a little snarky, a little sweet, Sarah brings us along on a great journey of larger-Self discovery!”

  —Leslie Reambeault, LCSW, eco-spiritual psychotherapist and author of the forthcoming Meeting Death: Mapping the Territory for Therapists and Spiritual Companions

  “Spiritual Rebel will become a must-read. Sarah’s experience with her religious heritage and her spiritual path will resonate with so many who, like me, have experienced religious trauma and yet still yearn for a deeper connection. The daily practices are practical, powerful, and enlightening. Sarah has a gift of writing, is a gift in spirit, and this book is sacred.”

  —Rev. Karla Kamstra, owner and founder of The Bridge Spiritual Center

  “Sarah is a skillful writer who weaves her spiritual knowledge throughout this book while providing simple and practical advice on ways to deepen your own personal spiritual journey. You will want to keep this book within arm’s reach so that you can refer to it often.”

  —Reverend Joie Barry, founder of The Gathering of One

  “With humor, wit, and authenticity Sarah Bowen provides a simple and easy roadmap for strengthening your spiritual muscles and living with a greater sense of wonder, freedom, and satisfaction.”

  —Bianca Lynn, transformational workshop leader and contributing author to the bestselling 365 Book Series

  “In sum, I found Spiritual Rebel to be a humorous, slightly irreverent, concise guide for people who are searching for meaning—and aren’t we all?”

  —Judy Ranniger-Meza, LCSW

  “With humor, occasional irreverence, and wisdom from life and study, Sarah Bowen offers an excellent book for the Spiritual-but-not-Religious person to explore and deepen what exactly that means to them personally. Through a series of very approachable and effective exercises, her readers are challenged to look at their preconceptions and their experiences to determine what being a spiritual rebel means for them—and how to use this new understanding to define their path in a way that is personally authentic and effective.”

  —AnnE O’Neil, author of If You Want the Rainbow, Welcome the Rain: A Memoir of Grief and Recovery

  “Spiritual Rebel is a practical guide for personal growth and spiritual evolution. Those new to spirituality will find Sarah’s casual, honest communication inspiring. Likewise, those who have been spiritual rebels for a long time will discover (or rediscover) ways to grow deeper into God and Spirit. Spiritual Rebel reminded me to appreciate my personal rebellion and embrace it as a valuable part of my own spiritual growth. May you find peace and friendship in these pages, fellow rebel. Welcome to the sangha.”

  —Rev. Nicole Losie, founder of Presence Yoga

  “Sarah Bowen is a bookworm who can’t stop reading, an unrelenting researcher, and a humble, nerdy rebel. As a result, Spiritual Rebel is an overflowing treasure trove of practices and resources that will inspire the Force within you.”

  —Sandy Fischman, interfaith/interspiritual minister

  “Sarah Bowen writes in bold prose with vivid imagery compliments of precise vocabulary. Her tongue-in-cheek style conveys humor and an upbeat colloquial tone, which draws the reader into friendly intimacy, while her spicy language preserves her reputation as a spiritual rebel.”

  —Reverend Cheryl Trenholme, founder of One World Family

  Spiritual Rebel: A Positively Addictive Guide to Finding Deeper Perspective & Higher Purpose © 2019 by Sarah Bowen. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews (which must credit the author). Contact the publisher for information.

  The information contained in this book is not medical, religious, or psychological advice. The ideas, suggestions, techniques, and activities are not intended to be used to prevent, diagnose, treat, or cure any medical or psychological issue. If you have a serious health imbalance, please see a doctor or other appropriate professional. Remember, your health and mental wellbeing are your responsibility and are essential parts of a spiritual lifestyle. Proceed at your own pace and with self-care.

  “12 Essential Reasons to Yawn Each Day” from How God Changes Your Brain: Breakthrough Findings from a Leading Neuroscientist by Dr. Andrew Newberg and Mark Waldman. Copyright © 2009 by Andrew Newberg and Mark Robert Waldman. (Ballantine Books). Reprinted by author’s permission.

  “Affirmation of the Eight Rooms” from Integral Church: A Handbook for New Spiritual Communities by Joran Slane Oppelt. Copyright © 2018 by Joran Slane Oppelt. Reprinted by author’s permission.

  Spiritual Rebel® and SpiritualtarianSM are registered servicemarks of Renewed Creative, LLC. All rights reserved.

  Neither this book nor its contents are endorsed or approved by or affiliated in any way with Lucasfilms Ltd. or Disney. Jedi™, Star Wars®, YodaTM and The Force™ are trademarks of Lucasfilms Ltd.

  Cover illustration © 2019 by Sarah Bowen & Renewed Creative LLC. All rights reserved. Author photo © 2018 Francesco Mastalia Book design by Colin Rolfe

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-948626-04-0

  eBook ISBN 978-1-948626-05-7

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Bowen, Sarah, 1971- author.

  Title: Spiritual rebel : a positively addictive guide to finding deeper perspective & higher purpose / Sarah Bowen.

  Description: Rhinebeck, N.Y. : Monkfish Book Publishing Company, [2019]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019004966 (print) | LCCN 2019014493 (ebook) | ISBN 9781948626057 (eBook) | ISBN 9781948626040 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Meaning (Philosophy) | Spirituality. | Spiritual life.

  Classification: LCC B105.M4 (ebook) | LCC B105.M4 B68 2019 (print) | DDC 204/.4--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019004966

  Monkfish Book Publishing Company

  22 East Market Street, Suite 304


  Rhinebeck, NY 12572

  (845) 876-4861

  monkfishpublishing.com

  He’s got to follow his own path.

  No one can choose it for him.

  PRINCESS LEIA

  Contents

  The F-word

  Are you a spiritual rebel?

  A unicorn among sheep

  Taking out the sacred trash

  Redefining spirituality

  SPIRITUAL MOMENTS

  Week 1: Being

  Mindful Monday

  Talking Tuesday

  Wonder-filled Wednesday

  Trekking Thursday

  Fearless Friday

  Seva Saturday

  Sangha Sunday

  Week 2: Deepening

  Mindful Monday

  Talking Tuesday

  Wonder-filled Wednesday

  Trekking Thursday

  Fearless Friday

  Seva Saturday

  Sangha Sunday

  Week 3: Expanding

  Mindful Monday

  Talking Tuesday

  Wonder-filled Wednesday

  Trekking Thursday

  Fearless Friday

  Seva Saturday

  Sangha Sunday

  Rebel with (a lot of) clues

  Revealing higher purpose

  The rebel and the saint

  Reflections and ahas

  Pointer words for sacred pondering

  Sacred shout-outs

  Really recommended reading

  About the author

  The F-word

  It started with the F-word.

  Not the highly-charged four-letter fuck.

  Not the saintly five-letter faith.

  It started with the Force.

  Because in the beginning there was the word.

  * * *

  Or, in my case, the words. They appeared as gigantic yellow characters in all caps, rolling up a darkened movie theater screen. A wise sage named Obi-Wan Kenobi vividly described mystical energy called the Force. My life was forever changed.

  Afterward, my imaginative friends and I met daily to act out stories about the Force, creating our own complex variants over time. With an unbridled spirit, we dubbed ourselves honorary members of the Rebel Alliance, standing bravely against any injustice or evil in our suburban neighborhood. We thought ourselves rare space warriors, yet we were unknowingly taking part in an age-old hero’s journey which had been acted out for millennia. Inspired by the original Star Wars trilogy, we applied archetypal drama to our everyday lives on Earth.

  Unsurprisingly, the myth of Star Wars felt more alive than what I learned at church. Star Wars had what my favorite Bible stories had—heroes, heroines, and wise sages. (Translation: Luke, Leia, and Yoda.) But unlike my church’s religion, our Star Wars religiosity seemed more expansive and less exclusive. It was literally “Universe-al.” Our neighborhood was a mashup of mostly Jewish and Catholic kids, with a few of us Protestants scattered around. Our families all had different religious beliefs and rituals, but there was one thing we kids could all agree on: the awesome power of the Force.

  Looking back, I recognize that our youthful play was rife with sacred symbolism. Our memories of the film and the tales we created formed our oral tradition. Brightly colored Star Wars comic books became authoritative texts to consult during disagreements in our forming doctrine. As we acted out the myth, day after day, our play took on a ritualistic feel. Before long, the Kenner toy company hooked us on 3.75-inch-scale “icons” of our favorite characters. Cosmic sacred music blared from our tiny record players, compliments of the prolific composer John Williams.

  Brushing off parental criticism that we were embracing violence with our lightsaber battles, we banded together as Jedis for the breathtaking destruction of the Death Star. Through our play, we learned about personal responsibility and the difficulty of making moral decisions. Mastering our fear of the evil Darth Vader, we began to understand the concepts of forgiveness and redemption.

  Through Star Wars, we were discovering what our religious institutions were trying to teach us. But instead of being told precisely what to believe, we were encouraged to let belief awaken. And for some of us, that awakening became a tiny piece of our spiritual DNA.

  And then I lost it.

  I blame puberty. But for many years, I blamed religion. In seventh grade, my fellow hormone-rich, self-absorbed friends and I were enrolled in something called “confirmation class.” Once a week we were taught about what our church affirmed—and by extension what we were supposed to think too. At great length, I learned about our denomination’s faith, traditions, and practices. My focus, meanwhile, was on the cute blond boy in the class, and whether he liked me. Or if he thought I was too tall. Or too short. As I worried incessantly about my looks and what other people thought about me, the strong, confident child inside me turned into a nervous gangly girl who felt ugly, poor, and not good enough. Unable to connect the confirmation class teacher’s lessons with anything relevant to my life, I began to harbor a deep, dark secret that I could not share: I did not believe.

  As a preacher’s kid, this was quite a liability. Somehow though, I managed to pass the class final (including writing an ordered list, pulled from my shaky memory, of all the books of the Bible) so that I could stand in front of the entire church congregation and be confirmed—right next to that cute blond boy. While my father was always willing to help me with any questions, and never told me what to believe, my self-absorption was growing to a colossal size.

  Eventually, my secret attracted friends. Their names were Guilt and Depression. Soon, they found a leader. Her name was Addiction. Slyly, I hid them all behind studded black leather, blue hair, and absurd amounts of black eyeliner. Increasingly, my weekends were rife with the proverbial sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll. Or in my 1980s version, 40-oz. bottles of cheap beer, cartons of Camels, long nights full of punk rock, and random awkward hookups in the backseat of my tiny Ford Fiesta.

  I got so good at all that, I figured I’d try it for another four years through college.

  Occasionally, I attended my father’s church out of loyalty to him. But my late Saturday bar nights soon turned that into rarely. It became harder to ignore the exclusionary beliefs of some church members, which left me constantly gnashing my teeth. Confused by their words and actions, which seemed inconsistent with my experience of this “God” thing, I slowly drifted away from attending church at all. My life and academics suffered as I struggled to deal with anxiety and trauma, without the support of a community or spiritual path.

  I oozed resistance with a side of defiance, some refusal, and a healthy dose of stubbornness. More and more, I spent time rebelling against, well, everything. Railing about what I was against, I spent very little time talking about what I was for. Religion was one of my favorite targets. Time after time, I would point out what was wrong with this group or that ritual. This dogma or that congregation. This religious leader or that scripture.

  I became a rebel without a real cause, stuck in a place of dividedness. My only cause was knocking down yours—making you out to be an “other” who was just plain wrong. With this narrow-minded tunnel vision, I spoke in gross generalizations: “Religion is the opium of the people!” I’d insist, quoting Karl Marx, or “Religion is for the weak-minded!” That was me in the corner, losing my religion.

  Graduating from college to pursue a life in New York City was the final nail in the coffin. Consequently, I became a very successful workaholic, seeking sanity through money. As I tried to avoid the flaws of this plan, my apartment became littered with self-help books. Convinced that the key to balance was in the next book, I tried to fill the hole created from turning my back on spirituality. Over the next 10 years, my apartments and jobs improved. Traveling extensively on business and vacationing in foreign countries, my passport proved I could get around. Stockpiling stuff, chasing success, and wooing money, everything appeared to be going as planned. Yet I was drown
ing in addiction, and a fathomless void was growing inside.

  Too many mornings I woke up next to my friend Guilt. Occasionally, it was a threesome with Shame. Lust, Greed, and Gluttony had assuredly been present the prior night. In my hungover state, Sloth would keep me company. The Seven Deadly Sins had moved into my Hell’s Kitchen apartment with me and my not-so-secret secrets.

  One day I received a call from my sister, asking me to come to the hospital ASAP. Mom and Dad had just returned from vacation, and my father was sick. An excruciating six weeks later, his body gave out. The day he died, I woke up hungover and dressed for battle: black steel-toe boots, ripped jeans, and a Superman T-shirt. As I walked across the city to the hospital, I passed a group of schoolchildren. A small boy pointed at me and declared, “Superman!” A little girl looked at him with disdain and corrected, “Supergirl!”

  But I had never felt less super.

  When I arrived at the hospital, our family held hands in a circle. Someone said a prayer. My mind screamed, “Need to get out of here!” Forcefully, I stormed through the hospital’s huge glass doors and marched up First Avenue with no other direction in mind than away, which happened to be north. Angry, with tears streaming down my face, I stomped along, helpless and hopeless.

  Twenty blocks later, I spotted a chapel across the street. I remembered all the times my father had been called away for an emergency at the church. Or the hospital. Or the nursing home. I decided now was my emergency. I tried the doors. Locked.

  Angrier, I continued up the street, soon spotting a synagogue. Locked. A cathedral. Locked. Finally, I saw a church with the doors open. I burst in, yelling, “I need clergy!” Softly, the janitor told me to wait in a pew. Soon, a man appeared and sat down in front of me. He gently asked me what was going on.

  Out spouted my anger at God. “Why would he take his best employee? It’s not fair! It’s too soon! He’s only 65. I didn’t get to say goodbye right!” That was the gist of my 20-minute rant.

  “Do you have a Bible?” the minister asked. I looked at him blankly. Really? What good would a Bible do me now? My father was dead. Hadn’t this man heard me?