I’ve always loved and respect Huston Smith for both his ability to translate the religious traditions of other cultures and how his soul has been influenced by his study. But Pico Iyer in reviewing Smith’s latest books in the September 2003 issue of Shambhala Sun (page 96) mentions a famous quote of Smith’s that I’ve always taken exception to:

The “spiritual” is always affirmed these days, while “religion” is discarded… and yet spirituality is only as meaningful as its place within a community.

I left my childhood community and wandered around for a while looking for a new community. But I never found one that actually vitalized my “spiritual” journey. However, earlier in this same Shambhala Sun issue, Norman Fischer, in his article, “Sometimes Full, Sometimes Half Full” (page 46) gives a new interpretation of the three refuges of Buddhism. He translates the term sangha as not just a “Buddhist community” but “the community of all beings.”

This idea works for me. For my religious congregation is not very formal— It includes dear people who have been close to me for many years. Sometimes I meet over breakfast to discuss dreams while others settle for a weekly phone call or instant messages. But the conversations are so helpful and life-affirming that I couldn’t imagine going about my journey without them.

But these dear friends and family aren’t the only people who influence me… there are writers and teachers, the bus driver who doesn’t see me standing and passes by making me late for work but early enough for another chapter in my book. There’s also the old woman on the next bus that mentions that “Life is colorful, isn’t it?” as well as the shaggy man with a sign on the roadside that reads, “Looking for human kindness … but I really need a beer.” The woman on the elevator that smells of lilac shampoo… the community of all beings. Everyone and every little thing adds their contribution.

On my way into work, I noticed a huge, scraggy… and quite ugly weed growing out of a crack of the sidewalk. I suppose if I hadn’t of planted one of these in my garden, I wouldn’t have recognized it, but I knew it as a fennel plant. I grabbed a small handful of the dainty yellow flowers and rubbed them between my fingers, inhaling the intoxicating scent all the way to the office. Heaven is hidden in so many nooks and crannies.