I was raised in a family of "devout atheists". We were liberal, ethical humanists, trying to save the world from within that narrow band of reality called the "rational mind". So even when I began to question some of these assumptions, as a teenager, and look for something more, I didn’t turn to religion.
My spiritual search developed via introspection, meditation, yoga, psychotherapy, breathwork, and experiments with altered states. My friends on this path were a loose assortment of independent seekers whose lineage was more Beat or Woodstock than Church or Temple. I was hostile to organized religion, and scoffed at the way most religious people spoke of “God”.
But then, after many years of looking within, I was overwhelmed by several dramatic spiritual experiences that felt like direct revelations of the mind of God, reaching through the skeptical walls of my reason. This was not the angry, jealous God cited by Bible-thumping preachers, but a God beyond boundaries—a pure intelligence, a limitless field of love. Prompted by these experiences, I wrote a small book, Becoming Me, a creation story as told by the Creator.
When Becoming Me was published, I figured it would appeal mostly to fringe spiritual types like me, as it doesn’t quite fit into any one particular religious tradition. Like most things mystical, it’s beyond all that. It’s a bit Jewish, a bit Christian, a bit Hindu, a bit Sufi, a bit Buddhist, and a bit Native American, to name a few.
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