https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hddHUVsVO-w&pp=ygUecmFtYW5hIG1haGFyc2hpIGZpbmFsIHRlYWNoaW5n

I grew up attending private Catholic schools until I was 14 or 15 years old. During that time, I was the problem child. I spent more time in Mrs. Brand's (the school principal) than anyone else I knew. We would fight like cats and dogs about my behavior, and I was labeled by nearly every teacher, student, and parent, as a "bully." By the time I left that school, I hated everything about Catholicism. I hated the judgment, the hypocrisy, and the damnation I witnesses and experienced. Throughout my public high school experience, I never once had a similar issue. I never even saw the inside of the principal's office and I didn't change that much. While this was very nice, it only served to strengthen my conviction that Mrs. Brand and all those other Catho-lickers were "bad" and "wrong" about me. Needless to say, some samskaras were formed. To this day, I struggle with all things Christian. When I meet a proud Christian, my internal narrative picks up. When conversing about the Church, I have to hold the words of scorn that leap from my heart to my mouth. When I see pictures of Jesus, I don't feel love, but a childish pain of rejection. Recently, however, I've been traveling through Europe. Traveling long-term on a budget requires a lot of time spent in hostels where I'm surrounded by people. It's a great social experience, but when I want to sit down to meditate, there aren't many options. Two months ago when I was in Paris, I went to visit one of the churches mentioned in the book The DaVinci Code. While I was there, I realized, "This would be a great place to meditate," and so I did. Regardless of any other opinions my personal self might hold, it can't deny that those Christians knew how to build temples of worship. Since then, I've been making a point to walk into as many churches as possible whenever I walk by one. I find the quietest, out-of-the-way spot and do 10-20 minutes of meditation. The more I do this, the more I find myself enjoying the churches and the less I feel that childish pain they used to evoke.

The other day I sent an email through Help A Reporter Out (HARO) that asked for "a story about an encounter with a houseless person that changed your perception about those less fortunate." As I wrote it, I realized what a spiritual experience it was so I figured I'd share it here as well: When I'm in Washington, I go to one of my local parks nearly every day to work at the coffee shop in the center of the park. It's an absolutely gorgeous place right on the water that is connected to another part of town by a long "boardwalk" on concrete pillars elevated over the bay (see the attached picture). I'd park my car at one end of the boardwalk and walk across to the park to get some work done. At the end of the walk, there's a gravel trail with several benches at the foot of a large hill/cliffside that shades the benches from the sun. On one of those benches, sat a bearded man with a small cardboard sign labeled "Free sports cards" with several vintage baseball and football cards on display. As long as it wasn't raining, this guy was always there. For the longest time, I walked by and didn't pay much attention to him based on the stigma of unhoused people. But the more I saw him, the more curious I became. One day, I was feeling generous. I had just received my COVID stimulus check and when I walked by him I thought, "I'm going to buy him out and make his day." So I went to the ATM, pulled out $100, and walked to talk with him. He was very nice and gracious, we had a good chat, and he told me that, although he was homeless, he had a storage locker filled with cards and it was the best way he could make a few extra dollars each day. As I walked away, my personal self was very proud of the good deed I had done. Those cards are still sitting in my closet at home. From that point, every time I walked by him, he greeted me with a loud, happy, "HEYYY!" and we'd talk from time to time. This guy was always so kind and positive, I couldn't help but think that I'd never be able to keep that kind of positivity if I were in his situation.