Spirituality

I value scientific understanding deeply and embrace the evolutionary view of life unfolding over billions of years. Yet I do not see this scientific story as contradicting the mystery of creation. Rather, I see them as complementary ways of exploring reality - science describing how life evolves, and spirituality asking why there is something rather than nothing. My own faith, as I currently understand it, could best be described as agnostic. It recognizes the limits of human knowledge while remaining open to the possibility of deeper meaning beyond what science can explain. Questions such as how life first emerged from non-life, or what, if anything, lies beyond death, invite me to stay humble and curious. For me, that is at the heart of faith: remaining open to what lies beyond the boundaries of thought and ego - continuing to listen, learn, and wonder about the vast mystery that gives rise to life itself.

I understand spiritual growth as an ongoing process of learning about what lies above and beyond the ego. It involves sensing a connection with something greater - a dimension that invites openness, wonder, and humility. The search for what transcends the self is, as I currently understand it. not limited to any single field; it can unfold in many forms: through careful observation, attentive listening, and/or deep reflection. Openness plays a central role in this journey. It allows receptivity to new experiences, insights, and connections. It serves as a gateway to transformation, nurturing humility, curiosity, and the courage to grow beyond ego boundaries. Psychologically, openness is closely linked to curiosity and creativity - qualities that support both spiritual exploration and self-transcendence.

At the same time, a vital part of spirituality for me is the willingness to remain open to the possibility of a divine presence - the idea that there may be a God or creative source whose power set life and the universe in motion. This openness does not rest on certainty but on wonder, an inner readiness to acknowledge that something greater may underlie existence. Faith, as I experience it, means sensing this creative presence in people, in nature, in music, and in the small meaningful encounters with other people. These moments remind me that something beyond what we can explain with words is at words.

Nature is a key element in how I experience spiritual growth. I notice that cultivating openness in daily life, for example through individual reflection walks in nature or walk-and-talks in nature with another person, helps me draw nourishment from unexpected sources. These walks have become small rituals of listening -  not only to words or thoughts, but to the quiet interplay between movement, breath, and landscape. Whether I am walking alone or in dialogue with someone else, I often find that clarity emerges from the natural rhythm of steps meeting the earth. Over the past few years, time in nature has become essential in my practice, both personally and professionally. It provides a space where I can reconnect with a slower pace of awareness, one that honors curiosity and receptivity rather than control. Watching how water moves through a river or how flowers stretch toward sunlight reminds me that change is continuously unfolding. These moments soften the boundaries between self and environment, awakening a sense of shared vitality that nourishes thought and spirit alike. I begin to sense that creativity and insight are not exclusively products of the mind but arise from being attuned to the living world around me. The trees, the wind, the movement of clouds — all seem to participate in a silent dialogue that mirrors my own search for meaning. In these times, openness becomes less a skill to practice and more a way of belonging to life itself.

Music is also an important part of my spiritual journey. I find that music invites us into a space where emotion and awareness flow together in ways that words alone rarely reach. Singing, for instance, creates resonance - an alignment between inner emotion and outer vibration. With each note, the body becomes both instrument and listener; breath transforms into sound, and sound into a carrier of meaning that touches others beyond the limits of explanation. I often notice how singing loosens something in the heart, allowing emotions that might have remained unspoken to find form and expression. The moment voice meets air, an invisible bridge emerges between the individual and the world. A single tone, clearly released, can fill an entire space — reminding me that presence itself has texture, movement, and power. There is humility in realizing that the sound I create continues beyond me, carried by air currents into distances I cannot see. Harmony deepens this experience even further. When voices blend, boundaries between selves dissolve for a moment. Differences coexist, weaving together into something larger than any one part. This merging can evoke unity and belonging in ways the intellect cannot fully capture. In those moments, music becomes both prayer and dialogue — a shared language that listens as much as it speaks. To sing, then, is to engage in an act of trust: Trust in breath, in the unseen path of vibration, in the possibility of communion through sound. Music reminds me that resonance is an essential aspect of being alive. It attunes inner and outer worlds, offering a glimpse of harmony not as perfection, but as the dynamic balance of many distinct voices creating a living whole.

Love, for me, is an essential part of spiritual growth. It is more than an emotion that comes and goes. Love is a way of seeing and being in the world. Love awakens in a variety of situations, for example when I observe nature in conscious ways, when I treat myself with kindness and curiosity, and also sometimes in encounters when my eyes and a smile meet the eyes and the smile of another person. In moments of love, I sense that life itself is sacred. Besides a smile, I think about about small gestures of care and/or a patient word. Love invites me to listen more deeply, to forgive more easily, and to trust that goodness can grow even from pain. As I walk through nature, sing or simply breathe, love seems to be working. In nature, love seems to reveal itself in the quiet harmony among living things - a reminder that every being has its place in the larger whole. In music, love seems to sing through the resonance between voices, tones, and hearts, dissolving barriers and creating shared emotion. And in my sense of God, love becomes the presence that moves quietly through all things - not demanding belief, but inviting trust and openness. When I approach life with love, I notice that energy flows more freely, creativity finds new paths, and relationships deepen. 

I believe that Jesus lived more than 2,000 years ago and that Mary was his mother. The Gospels of Matthew (Matthew 1–2) and Luke (Luke 1–2) describe his birth in Bethlehem. While I accept that Jesus was a historical person who inspired millions of people, I find it difficult to believe in the supernatural or miraculous parts of his story. For example, the idea that Jesus was born from a virgin by the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:26–35, Matthew 1:18–25) strongly challenges my understanding of human life and nature. Similarly, I find it hard to take literally the accounts of Jesus walking on water (Matthew 14:22–33), giving sight to the blind (John 9:1–12), or calming a storm with words (Mark 4:35–41). Rather than focusing on these miracles, what matters most to me are the words and actions of Jesus that help people live meaningful, compassionate, and truthful lives. Jesus stood out because he led by example. His leadership was about service, fairness, patience, and hope. Jesus practiced a kind of leadership, which was grounded in a deep concern for other people, quiet strength and moral integrity. His example continues to remind us that leadership begins with actions that are guided by love. To carry forward the best of what Jesus taught, I try to learn from the values he lived out in different situations.

Value example # 1: Being thankful
Jesus often gave expressed thankfulness, even for simple things. For Jesus, thankfulness was a daily practice rooted in awareness and humility. For example, Jesus gave thanks before he shared bread and fish with the crowd (Matthew 14:19). At the Last Supper, he gave thanks over the bread and wine before sharing them with his disciples (Luke 22:19–20). 

Value example # 2: Being humble
Jesus lived simply, walking from place to place without possessions. His life was a quiet statement that meaning and dignity are not found in material abundance but in how we treat other people. When he knelt to wash his disciples’ feet (John 13:1–17), he showed that true greatness begins with humility. We glimpse this same spirit whenever someone chooses service over recognition. In this regard, think of a teacher who gives time and patience to students or a leader who listens to people.

Value example # 3: Standing up for what is right
The moral courage of Jesus remains one of the most enduring lessons of his life. For example, he confronted both religious and political authorities when he saw injustice, and when he saw people acting in contradiction to their stated opinions. In Matthew 23, Jesus openly criticized the Pharisees and teachers of the law for valuing appearances and status over compassion and fairness. Jesus said that they “tie up heavy burdens” for others but “neglect the weightier matters of the law: Justice, mercy, and faithfulness.” Jesus also defended the dignity of women, which was radical in his cultural context. In John 8:1–11, when a woman accused of adultery was brought before him to be condemned, Jesus did not join the crowd demanding punishment. Instead, he turned the judgment back on them, saying, “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone.” His response upheld compassion over cruelty and affirmed the woman’s humanity. In our world, the example of Jesus calls us to speak up when we witness injustice. This can mean admitting our own mistakes instead of passing blame, refusing to remain silent when other people are treated unfairly, and standing up for a classmate or colleague who is bullied.

Value example # 4: Forgiving people
Jesus taught forgiveness through words as well as through his actions. He told Peter to forgive “not seven times, but seventy times seven” (Matthew 18:21–22). From the cross, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Forgiving others frees us from anger and restores peace. In daily life, that might mean choosing dialogue over resentment or letting go of grudges to make room for reconciliation. 

Value example # 5: Helping people when they need it - in compassionate ways
Jesus consistently offered help to those who were poor, sick, or excluded. For example, he comforted the grieving (John 11:32–44) and welcomed people who had been rejected by others (Mark 10:13–16; Luke 19:1–10). Jesus showed that loving one’s neighbor (Luke 10:25–37) stands at the very heart of living rightly. Following the example of Jesus begins with simple acts: including someone who feels left out, volunteering to support people in need, and/or listening with genuine care when another person is struggling. Again and again, the Bible shows that Jesus responded to suffering with compassion. His empathy was not only an emotion he felt. He expressed it through action. When he saw pain, he acted to bring relief. For example, when he noticed a large crowd, he “had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd” (Mark 6:34). Out of that compassion, he began to teach and guide them. In the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30–37), Jesus portrayed compassion as love in action - crossing boundaries of religion, ethnicity, and convenience to care for a person in distress. For him, compassion was not optional but the very expression of divine love. In our own time, living out this value means noticing when someone is feeling some kind of pain and responding with kindness, i.e. offering time, attention, and/or a helping hand. In doing so, we continue the compassionate way of Jesus in everyday life.

I believe that when a person dies, a profound transition takes place - one that begins in the physical and ends in the unseen. The body’s systems, once harmoniously coordinated, gradually fall silent. The heart stops beating, the lungs release their final breath, and the circulation of blood - the lifeline of warmth and vitality - comes to rest. Without the heart’s steady rhythm, oxygen and nutrients no longer reach the tissues. The organs, which are strongly dependent on that delicate balance, begin to shut down one by one. Cells starved of oxygen start to break apart, and in a remarkably short span, the body’s intricate network of functions stops altogether. Yet death, while final in a biological sense, is also part of a vast continuum. There is something, which keeps on going. Once the living processes stop, nature assumes its quiet work. The body cools, softens, and eventually returns to the earth. Microorganisms, moisture, and the slow turning of the seasons reclaim what was once animated by consciousness. Over weeks, months, and years, all that remains of a person’s physical form blends again with soil and atmosphere. Minerals enrich the ground, nourishing plants, which in turn feed animals and sustain new life. In this way, death is much more about transformation than about disappearance. When a person dies, he or she merges with the cycles that sustain the planet.

When the body stops working, we can clearly see the physical changes that follow. But what happens to the parts of us that cannot be touched or measured? That remains one of life’s deep mysteries. A person’s inner world is the invisible landscape that makes each of us uniquely human. A person's inner world is the home of thoughts we have, emotions we feel, our hopes as well as quiet personal moments known only to ourselves. The inner world of a person holds memories we have and stories we quietly tell ourselves about who we are. The inner world of a human being also includes ways we perceive and connect with other people around us. In a person' inner world love takes root, dreams take shape, ideas unfold, and meaning quietly grows. While our bodies can be observed and weighed, the inner world stays hidden from direct view. It lives through our experiences, choices, relationships, and reflections - all the threads that weave depth into our days. When death comes, this unspoken essence does not simply vanish. It may live on in transformed ways. The kindness someone offered, the wisdom they passed along, the joy they shared - these become woven into the lives they touched. A person’s laughter remains in fond memories, their values quietly guide others’ choices, and their words continue to comfort and uplift long after they’re gone.

Perhaps the warmth of our caring, the spark of our thoughts, and the kindness we extended endure in subtle, unseen forms. Every shared smile, lesson taught, or gentle word of encouragement carries forward a fragment of who we were, rippling into the world. Memories of us can inspire those we leave behind, even years later. In this way, our inner life persists - not as the person we once embodied, but as a living influence on others. Love, creativity, and conviction do not evaporate; they flow outward, quietly shaping people, ideas, and bonds we once nurtured. Consciousness itself may dissolve into something vast - like a single drop merging with the sea. From this view, death is less an ending than a profound return. The body rejoins the earth, feeding its cycles. Meanwhile, our essence - be it spirit, memory, or quiet energy - blends into humanity’s shared story.