| Spirituality on the Road During the years that I worked in the television business, I mostly considered myself to be an agnostic. I did not reject the notion of God outright, but I was not convinced of His/Its existence either. Whatever the case were, it didn’t seem to make much difference in my life. Although I was a self-proclaimed agnostic, I still prayed from time to time. I figured that, at best, I was talking to God—at worst, it was a personal catharsis. It seemed like a win-win situation to me. In doing this, I suppose that I had, in some way, avoided uprooting the seeds of spirituality. My experience in Cross Timbers, Missouri with Merlin, my former trainer, and his family, and the people of this small community, may have been the first event to pour some water upon these seeds. The camaraderie, love, trust, and pure selflessness that I experienced there seemed to transcend the human behavior to which I had been previously exposed. I could not help having a distinct “feeling” that something else was at play here. In the days to come, I would view the majestic beauty of a Wyoming sunrise, the rolling green hills of southern California, the jaw-dropping craggy peaks of the Colorado Rockies, and the sharply eroded pinnacles and spires in South Dakota’s Badlands, where you can look for miles and see no signs of civilization. It was difficult to view natural beauty such as this without getting a sense of wonder and awe, and without getting a profound spiritual feeling—the feeling of something greater than myself that transcends human knowledge. Trucking is a bit like the old adage of “being in a foxhole” which says, “There are no atheists in a foxhole.” Likewise, there are damned few atheists behind the wheel of a big rig. I wish that I had a nickel for every time I’ve proclaimed my gratitude to Jesus for either finding a parking spot in a crowded truck stop, avoiding a collision, or finally getting to go home after 5 or 6 grueling weeks on the road. I have no doubt that my time on the road has afforded me the ability to forge a relationship with God, although my path to this relationship is a spiritual one rather than religious. I have never been a huge proponent of organized religion, and I probably never will be. The repressive mindset of many sects of organized religion, the narrow-minded “our way is the only way” thinking, the corruption and hypocrisy, and the blatant disregard to sound rational foundations and logical consistency in various dogmatic assertions leads me to reject the “holy” community. In saying this, however, I do not mean to suggest that faith is an unnecessary component in the path to spiritual growth. I used to wonder why God would not just rearrange the stars to spell out something like, “Hello this is God… just wanted you to know.” But, I came to suppose that God would never do anything to prove his own existence because belief in him must be based on faith alone. God, in essence, would be violating his own word if he created such an improbable event pointing to his existence. And therein lies the rub—the word “faith”. “Faith” is the single word that has probably inspired more religious and philosophical debates than any other. A skeptic might claim that taking a “leap of faith” into a spiritual belief attends the risk of losing truth. However, I believe that skepticism attends the same risk. The philosopher, Kierkegaard, set forth the theory that human beings do not have the capacity to know anything that is certain, and that only through some sort of miraculous event can they ever acquire such knowledge. That seems well and good for the enlightened few, but what about those of us who have never experienced a “miracle”? Kierkegaard goes on to say that the miracle of “knowing” can be significant for a human being only if he desires it to happen without being able to form any judgment about the advantages or disadvantages of the transformation. In a way, Kierkegaard himself is a skeptic because he is trying to show that human beings, by themselves, can know nothing; an assertion shared by Socrates. After developing that skepticism, he maintains that the only solution to this predicament lies in first recognizing it, and then blindly and irrationally seeking a way out of it through faith alone. But doesn’t this present the risk of losing truth? How does anyone know what to believe in? The truth is, we can’t know. According to Kierkegaard, man’s solutions lies solely in the decision to believe and to have faith. This presents the conundrum that some people are inherently geared toward faith while others are geared toward skepticism. As a skeptic, I claimed that I, at least, needed a tiny modicum of proof to base faith on. Most of us are convinced that love exists because we have had this knowledge revealed to us through experience. But if asked to prove love, it becomes a monumental challenge to prove an ineffable quality. The Bible or the “holy” community doesn’t help to prove anything about faith and religion any more than a book of sonnets proves anything about love. The acceptance or rejection of any unknowable concept is based on personal experience and faith alone. As human beings, we are forced to take a leap of faith, whether it is into the realm of spirituality, or the realm of skepticism. Skepticism attends the same risk of losing truth as does spiritual faith. This, of course, is just my humble opinion… I could be wrong. Even with my decision to take the leap into spiritual faith, I do not claim to be “absolutely positive”. I believe that “absolute certainty” in regard to the unknowable requires an approach with a closed mind. Whether one has chosen the path of spiritual faith or skepticism, in order to maintain honesty, the words “I believe” should take precedence over the words “I know”. I believe that there are many paths toward spirituality, and that we each must find our own. My particular path turned out to be the highways and interstates of America. I recall a humorous event on the road in which someone (or something) attempted to guide me toward a spiritual path. I had stopped at a rest area on I-20 in Norris, Mississippi, and when I entered the men’s room, I saw a series of pamphlets entitled “The Roman’s Map to Heaven”, strategically placed on top of the urinals. I thought that this would, perhaps, serve as a metaphor and, not unlike a Holy pilgrimage to Mecca, I would be enlightened with an epiphany upon completing my quest and flushing. So, when I flushed, it was with great anticipation, but when the septic cycle had whirled to its conclusion, I remained standing in front of a urinal just as unenlightened as before. Despite my disappointment, I realized that I’d still had an epiphany of sorts. For I learned on this day that if I were to ever, truly, discover a path to heaven, I probably wasn’t going to find the directions perched atop a urinal in Mississippi. Even in choosing a path toward spirituality, I do not believe that there is anything wrong with expressing doubt from time to time. Even my beloved Grandfather expressed religious doubt on occasion, even though he was a devout Catholic. I considered this to provide more proof that he was a thinking man rather than a bad Christian. Despite my Grandfather’s eighth-grade education, he was a master carpenter who designed and built immaculate houses, along with a lot of other things. When I was old enough to see it, I realized one day that my Grandfather, in his carpentry work, was performing algebraic calculations in his head. I knew that he had never been near an algebra class in school, so I asked him how he did it. “Oh, I don’t know,” he humbly replied. “I just think on it awhile.” I hope to strengthen my own spirituality as the years pass, and I suppose that I’ll just continue to “think on it awhile”. Based on the relationship that I have developed with God to this point, my faith makes me think that’s exactly what He’d want me to do. |