"Go in peace . . my own peace I give you"

Something that I struggle with internally is spirituality . . or my lack thereof. I was raised Catholic but wasn't baptized until age 10 so it's not something I have always known. Since being confirmed I have not been an active practitioner and take issue with organized religion to such a degree that I couldn't possibly submit to it. I have tried to meditate and can't seem to get past the first few seconds without my mind wandering through all the things I need to get done that day or in life in general. Not that I think I am unique in that aspect. I understand perfectly that achieving true peace and stillness through meditation is a challenge with which most are confronted when they try. I try to read spiritual books or even books from Oprah's book club but find myself gravitating back to the New York Times and books regarding U.S. foreign policy. I have lit candles, incense and put on a Tibetan chants CD but unless I am sipping on a glass of wine while doing so I never really seem to conquer my mind and relax. And here I am in Santa Barbara with my sister who practices Buddhism and has a makeshift temple in her studio complete with offerings and candles. She meditates and practices sun salutations and finds genuine solace in this. I yearn for that level of spirituality but instead find myself trapped, still, even out here, in the New York City mentality and rat race. Not that people in New York don't meditate or aren't spiritual but it's a certain pace at which I am going that is simply not conducive to quieting my mind. When addressing this issue with my sister she reminded me that every time I am in my final savasana after class I am meditating . . every time I am able to quiet my mind that tells, nags at me, to wipe the sweat, scratch the itch or adjust my hair, I am meditating and, therefore, using my own spirituality. And, she's right. When I first started practicing Bikram Yoga I couldn't run out of the room fast enough after I heard the word 'namaste' . . I wanted out of the heat and couldn't wait to gulp down ice cold water. I so wanted to be like that yogi in the corner who not only stayed for full savasana but maintained the proper position throughout its duration (heels touching, arms next to the body, palms up, chin down). Even if I was able to stay for a few minutes I found myself bending my knees, stretching my arms up over my head and darting my eyes around the room. Gradually, I have been able to demonstrate more discipline and to remain in savasana, still and undistracted, for the entire alloted fifteen minutes. In fact, I am usually the last to leave the room and if the next class didn't need access I would likely stay longer. I still struggle with my thoughts . . how thirsty I am, how much I need to get in the shower and then get to my next destination, all I need to do for the rest of the day . . and on and on . .but I close my eyes and remain still and this alone quiets the nagging thoughts. Yesterday, in savasana, while laying in stillness and hearing other people from class get up and leave the room a phrase suddenly popped into my mind, "Go in peace, my own peace I give you" . some of you will recognize that from the Catholic mass. It is a phrase recited at the end of mass as the priest sends us on our way . . anyway, for some reason this phrase popped into my mind as people walked out of the room . . "Go in peace, my own peace I give you" . . I not only had achieved some sense of peace but, apparently, I was willing to share it with others. I had that much peace to spare! I stayed for that final savasana and I questioned why that phrase had manifested in my mind but I had no logical explanation. So, now I realize that I am, indeed, spiritual. Every time I lie in savasana and soak up the incredible vibe produced from class and wish upon my fellow practitioners, "Go in peace" . . "my own peace I give you" . . I realize that I am spiritual and I am always sharing that peace or stillness with others whether or not I realize it. . So, "Go in peace, my own peace I give you" . . .