The divine doesn't care how many times you bow

 Religion offers the map. Spirituality walks the path. These words have echoed in my heart for years, especially in moments when the road beneath me felt uncertain. They hold a quiet truth, one that doesn’t ask for loyalty to one over the other, but invites us to recognize the difference, and the dance, between them.

Religion is the container. It gives shape and form to the ineffable. It’s where so many of us begin, baptized, named, blessed, or whispered into a lineage older than memory. Religion gives us stories to anchor our existence, rituals to mark the seasons of our lives, and teachings to steady us when we’re lost. It tells us how the saints prayed, how the prophets listened, how the ancestors walked. It gives us language to speak to the divine and tells us what to say when we don’t know how to begin.

And yet, the map is not the journey. We can know all the verses by heart and still feel untouched by spirit. We can bow at the altar and still feel hollow. That’s when spirituality steps in, not to replace religion, but to awaken it.

Spirituality is the moment you leave the safety of the temple and walk into the forest, barefoot, unsure of where you’re going but certain you can no longer stay still. It is personal, intimate, raw. It is found in the tear that falls silently during meditation, in the unexpected peace that comes after surrender, in the way your breath catches when you speak a truth you didn’t know you were holding. Spirituality is what happens when you stop reciting and start listening.

Religion gives answers. Spirituality asks questions. And both are needed. There are times when we need the comfort of a clear answer: “This is the way. This is what’s right. This is what will keep you safe.” But there are other times, often the ones that change us, when the answers no longer fit. When grief knocks us to our knees and the prayers feel like echoes. When life refuses to unfold the way it “should.” When the mystery demands to be met on its own terms.

Spirituality doesn’t rush to fix or explain. It whispers, Stay with it. It says, Let the grief speak. Let the anger move. Let the silence teach you. It doesn’t promise certainty, but it does promise presence. And in that presence, something holy arises, something tender, fierce, and deeply alive.

My father, Swami Hari Har Das, lived this paradox. Born in Varanasi, raised in the Ashram, he wore his robe and tilak with pride. He fasted with the moon, recited verses I didn’t yet understand, and taught the scriptures with fire in his voice. But behind his discipline was a yearning that couldn’t be contained in tradition alone. He danced between worlds, the structure of his lineage and the wild freedom of his inner knowing. He taught that true devotion isn’t about being good; it’s about being real. He taught that God doesn’t need our perfection, only our presence.

He used to say,  “The divine doesn’t care how many times you bow. The divine cares if your heart is open when you do.” That has stayed with me. Especially now, as I walk my own path, weaving Ayurveda and shamanism, yoga and spirit, sacred fire and fierce love.

Religion and spirituality are not opposites. One is the riverbed; the other is the current. One shows us where others have gone; the other asks, Where are you going?

So I say: honor the map. Trace the lines drawn by those who came before. Learn their stories. Bow to their wisdom. And then, when you’re ready, walk. Walk through the questions. Walk through the doubts. Walk with reverence, but also with courage. And trust that your path, no matter how winding, is holy.

~Shanti Freedom Das