Embracing the Bittersweet:

Exploring the Spaces Between Spirituality and Self

In her poignant exploration, Susan Cain writes about the bittersweet — that profound longing etched into the fabric of our lives. This notion resonates deeply with me; it's where I feel most at home. This is not just a fleeting emotion; it's a space nestled between my creativity and my soul, where my spirituality breathes.

Spirituality is a word I often hear tossed about, a lightweight in casual conversations yet heavy with unspoken meaning. Many express this sentiment: “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual.” 

I nod in agreement, recognizing the phrase but grappling with its true essence. So, I attempt here to define what we really mean by the phrase, “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual.” 

For me, spirituality is found in the liminal — where the spiritual meets the physiological and the psychological, creating meaning that Maria Popova describes as being "laced with neurochemistry and chance."

It's a delicate balance where yearning and contentment meet.

At this intersection, I understand that spirituality is not just about finding peace or reaching for something beyond ourselves. It's about embracing all parts of life—the good, the bad, and everything in between (the bittersweet).

This embrace of the bittersweet helps us truly understand who we are. It's not about escaping the world, but engaging with it more deeply, facing the nuance and complexities of who we are head-on. This is where true growth (both personally and creatively) happens.

Through my creative work, I aim to create an understanding of spirituality that acknowledges the deep feelings within me that long to be heard. This leads me not only to greater understanding of myself and how I relate to the world around me, but also to deep personal change as well.

Our spirituality is deeply personal, as unique and detailed as the complex patterns of our experiences, just like the creative work we pursue.

Spirituality, to me, is about connecting deeply with my core self—the part of me that's always been there, from birth until the end. It’s about growing towards the self, the someone that is wise and whole.

You might use different words for it—'inner self,' 'true nature,' or anything that feels right.

It's that unchanging part of you, who you really are at your core.

I love the idea that spirituality is about recognizing that you are composed of stardust.

Crafted from the same dust as your parents, grandparents, and all who came before them. This same essence flows onward into your children, their children, and all who will follow.

A bit poetic, yes, but it captures something deeply real about our existence.

Your essential self is intertwined with your thoughts, stories, and connections throughout life.

This deep-seated longing we experience serves as a reminder that we instinctually want to reveal and embrace this truest part of ourselves.

For me, the clearest path to this profound inner space is through artistic expression. Creating from this core part of myself feels like returning home—it's where I am most truly me.

The liminal space of longing and bittersweetness is elusive and undefined, without clear guidelines. To truly navigate this space, you must trust your instincts and feelings as your guide. This is challenging for so many reasons:

  • It can seem strange or unconventional.

  • It might sound odd to others.

  • It feels exposing, revealing parts of you that are usually hidden.

  • It can unleash intense, perhaps frightening, emotions.

  • The journey might be long and arduous.

  • You have to surrender control.

All of this requires a tremendous amount of courage, as we step into a realm where the usual rules do not apply.

There are countless reasons to stay on the surface, to avoid the bittersweet. However, when I get scared and stay away from this kind of deep, introspective work, I often find myself feeling unsatisfied, under appreciated, and depressed.

So I actively seek ways to enter this space every day. Either at the piano, at the computer in my writing, or in a script I’m plotting.

Sometimes, it's as simple as taking a walk where I allow myself to be alone with my thoughts. Just ten minutes of free thinking can be enough to open up a moment of insight and peace.

When I lose my nerve, or struggle to reach this on my own, I seek out other writers, artists, podcasts, music from others who create from this same place of depth. It's comforting to read or listen to their expressions that resonate with the bittersweet experiences I seek.

My body and mind quickly recognize when creations stem from this authentic space, and I can just as easily sense when they do not.

Do you experience this too? Can you feel the depth in someone’s work and distinguish it from the superficial?

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