Spiritual Guidance Satellite Systems

 

On the way to the gym the other morning we spotted a sign outside a church that read: BEGIN YOUR SPIRITUAL JOURNEY HERE !!!

Wow, I thought. A spiritual journey. I’ve never been on one. But, before I would attempt one, I had a lot of questions. 

For example, if I went into the church, would they really send me on a certifiable spiritual journey? Or was it just a ploy to add a baritone voice to their hymn singing and a few additional bills to their collection plate? And what would happen if I broke down midway through my journey? Would my AAA membership cover a tow truck coming out to recharge my spiritual battery or replace a punctured Tao after I ran over a chunk of jagged incredulity? And how should I pack for such a trip? How many changes of underwear would be sensible?

Most importantly, how would I know, as the journey progressed, that I hadn’t strayed away from the most efficient route to enlightenment? What I really needed was something similar to a GPS. Something that would give me step by step directions like the soothing (yet condescending) female voice on my Garmin. Yes, I needed an SPS. A Spiritual Positioning Satellite device. A Karmin if you will.

First, I would need to enter my current location. I doubted it would ask for a physical address. More likely the place I was beginning from spiritually. Agnosticism-I would tap out on the virtual keyboard provided.  

 “Hello, this is your spirit guide, Astral. Are you sure you meant to say agnosticism?” The silky, yet pious female voice would ask. “Perhaps you meant to say Adventistism.”     

“No, I’m starting at agnosticism.”

  “Okay, fine,” Astral says, an undercurrent of scorn in her voice. “Where would you like to go?”

Hmmm. Where would a spiritual journey end up? Heaven? Nirvana? Paradise? The Kona Coast?

“I’m not sure, actually. Can I do a look-up? Where might the road lead? Destinations of a Spiritual Journey?”

“Searching now,” she purrs, A lit bar crawls across the bottom of the screen as the computer taps into its knowledge base.

 “Here are several possibilities,” Astral says, all business now. “Number one-Enlightenmentland.”

“Is that like a spiritual amusement park?”

“Yes, it is.” She answers. “Truth-a-whirl is a local favorite.”

“I'm not good on high-speed rides. Wouldn't do to hurl on my spiritual journey. What else?”

“Sanctify City,” She continues the list. “Exultationville, Paradigmia, Holier--than-thou-burg.”

“Geez, I can’t decide. Surprise me.”

“I do not have a setting for surprise me.”

“Oh, alright then I’ll pick . . . Paradigmia. Maybe there’s something there I can believe in.”

“Acquiring satellites now,” Astral sniffs. “Mapping out route from your current location, Agnosticism . . . (digital snort) to destination Paradigmia.” It’s clear from her tone she’s mildly disdainful of my choice.

I wait while the SPS finishes its calculation. A map pops up with the route marked out. My position is shown by an icon in the shape of a perplexed looking emoji.

“Beginning your spiritual journey. Back out of the driveway of your agnostic comfort zone condo. Expand your consciousness and go to the stop sign. Make an immediate right turn on Illumination Avenue.”

“Alrighty then. So far, so good.”

“Continue for three-quarters of a mile. move into the far righteous lane. Turn piously at the traffic light and take Hallelujah Avenue. Stay in the righteous lane until you come to the 7-11.”

There are convenience stores along the way on your spiritual journey? Hey, you never know when you might want a Big Gulp to slake your spiritual thirst.

 “Proceed to the green light of undying faith. If you take another righteous turn, you’ll arrive at the parking lot of your destination in 500 feet.”

“Thank you Astral,”

There you have it. My spiritual journey complete. I wondered what would have happened if I’d ignored one of Astral’s instructions. What if I’d turned left on Hallelujah Avenue? Where would it have taken me? If I’d decided to mess with Astral, like I did with the semi-snotty voice on my Garmin, would it have recalculated? Insisted I go around the block and get back on spiritual track? What if I’d turned left and dead-ended on woo-woo circle and stopped to burn some incense and chant some gibberish or the lyrics from a Bob Dylan song? (Essentially the same thing). If I strayed from the correct path, would the cosmic police write me a citation for trespassing on someone else’s spiritual journey?  Would Astral out of disgust and spite, roll me right into eternal damnation or the universal headquarters for false Gods?

The naughty nine-year-old boy in me wanted to find out. Another part of me, the part that maintained a shred of sanity, said leave well enough alone. 

“Astral,” I told the SGS. “Could you stand by, please? In case I need to take another spiritual journey.”