I fell into my religion by accident: I was born into it.

As for my birth, I was a cesarean baby; I waited for someone to come and get me. I did not arrive with a splash but immediately responded to life as most of us do: I cried and sought solace. When I felt comforted, I regained my composure. Comfort brings security.

We can become emotionally caught up in what brings us comfort. As an infant, this comfort may have been primarily physical: food; human contact; warmth. As I grew older these pacifiers were superseded by a need for involvement with others and affirmations by the significant people in my life. Growing older still, the greatest need was the establishment of “security operations”—an unconscious system working to seek approval from others and the prevention of anxieties. The result: a mode of living less concerned with making sense of what was going on around me, and more focused on a pursuit of identification with others. My individuality went underground.

When you are young, winter does not seem so cold, summer not so hot, and articles of faith not so blunt. As I grew, I was indoctrinated into a belief system—before I could understand what a doctrine was or question why I needed one. I just followed the program.

We are not born mature. We need shaping. We are influenced. We begin as a human silhouette and hopefully develop into an embodiment by way of the formative forces that surround us: family, culture, society, education. These authorities and persuasions become my roots. Roots help us feel we are not alone. Roots give us the strength to incorporate changes in our lives. Roots can also govern our lives unconsciously.

“Religion is like holding onto a rock in the middle of a raging river; spirituality is learning how to swim.”
—Anonymous