From Mirabai Starr’s wonderful book, Wild Mercy:
You follow the footprints of the Beloved across manifold spiritual landscapes. You catch the same ancient, spicy aroma of love in Judaism that you have tasted in Islam. Your attraction to the lush sensuality of Hinduism does not in any way preclude the way you rest in the intellectual purity of Buddhism. Contemplating the Tao Te Ching strengthens what the Hopi elders have taught you: that the Earth is alive, that she is your Mother, that she is the love of your life.
Institutionalized religious authorities discourage this kind of roaming; they will call you a lost soul. You lie down with the Beloved in so many forms, the purists will call you a slut. The more open-minded may still accuse you of hoping to get to water by digging many shallow wells. As if you were a fool. You are no fool. You are in love, and you will use every available means to reach the living waters of love itself, which you can’t help but notice bubbling up from the altar of every sacred space you have ever entered, including—and maybe especially—the wild spaces of this earth.
You embrace your Beloved through your friendship with Jesus alone or through Jesus plus Buddha. You walk one path or three or eleven different spiritual paths that all bring you home to the One Love. Maybe you say, “No, thank you” to any kind of organized religion and, instead, cultivate a direct relationship with the Beloved in the temple of your own heart. The singular true believers will advise you against all of this multiplicity, recommending that you pick a single tradition and “go deep.” As if your polyamorous spiritual proclivities render you a dilettante. They will mistakenly judge your way as superficial and undisciplined, rather than as the mind-blowingly, heart-openingly, soul-transfiguringly rigorous spiritual practice that it is.
You don’t care that much what they think anyway. You are not about to miss any opportunity to encounter your Beloved and bow down and rise up and take refuge.