Steven Joiner

The universe was batting these false starts aside and waiting for me to see that there is a different path for me. When I asked myself where my passion and Bhakti flows, it is in the spiritual practices I’ve adopted in this new life. In other words, I am on a spiritual path and I cannot pretend otherwise.

Aum-a gonna tell you a story now...

This is the second musing in an ongoing series of spiritual essays. Click here for more info or just jump straight to the first missive.

Those who have followed the tale of my life in Kansas City know that a integral part of my life here has been a spiritual reawakening. You might also know that I’ve struggled with finding a niche that both excites me and allows me to not use a credit card to buy groceries. I knew in my heart that the disconnect was not the kismet of the world, it was a misalignment within.

The Fires of Rage

I got incredibly angry on the 7th of July and felt a rage burn in me that I’ve not felt since I was young. On the surface, I was angry about money; deep within, I was enraged by the perceived futility of my quest. Those who know me well will be surprised to hear that I didn’t lose my temper that evening.

Instead, I walked and raged in my head. I name called. I ranted. I sat by a fountain and chanted a mantra to the feminine divine.

An hour before I let the fires of rage consume me, someone said, “There is a lot of emotions running rampant these days and a lot of those emotions are very negative. When negative emotions and powerful charges come up–fear, anger, worry, depression–throw yourself into them. Don’t run. Be with them. Let them consume you. These are not the days to run.”

I took his suggestion to heart and burned up something profound that evening. (more…)

The Mexico Crew

This is the first in a series of musings I’m writing about Spirituality. For more on the project (i.e. caveats, reminders, excuses, admonitions, provisos, etc.) click here. Or jump to the second entry “Waking up”.

The ‘Ditch’ Story

I grew up an interdenominational christian because my father believed “it’s the same damn book” (and I do love the fact that he used ‘damn’ in reference to the bible). We went to all sorts of churches through the years and I feel my mother’s faith carried the light for the family.

I never bought into any of it on a deep level until I went to Mexico with my Presbyterian youth group in the summer of 1991. I was ‘forced’ to go to youth group because my mom correctly saw that I was hanging out with a bunch of losers and no matter how good your upbringing may be, peer pressure can still wreck havoc. She ‘saved’ me and for that I am eternally grateful.

See, it was on this trip that I found god. While the story is referred to as ‘The Ditch Story’, I actually found god in a hole meant for a septic tank. Fortunately we were digging the hole so it was not in use at the time I ‘found’ her. Finding god in the bottom of a ten-foot deep shitter has an irreverent ring to it and my truth involves a god with a sense of humor. I wish it was a trait cultivated in more of her followers. (more…)

Me (last year) with the new mama

… due entirely to the cute overload.

I mean, really, look at the work environment in which I toil.

A hard day's work

Want to see that up close?

Cute overload

They squeak. They yelp. They blindly drag themselves around grunting. How can one concentrate? (more…)