Religion vs. Spirituality

There was a period in my life when I wanted badly to be religious. I attended church with friends. I attended a Bible study class. I tried writing religious articles for a local newspaper, which got good feedback but left me feeling like a fake. I read up on different denominations and different religions looking for the right one.

When I was little, Auntie, who was more like a grandmother, took us to church. If we were good, we got to sit in the chapel with her instead of going to the children’s classes. I worked hard at being quiet and sitting still so I could be in the grown-up chapel. I loved the smell there, of wood polish and musty books. I loved the songs where everyone knew the words. I loved the sermons, but more the sound of them, the cadence, than because of any understanding of the words. And of course, I loved dressing up and the grown-up clacking sound my shoes made on stone.

When I was a young adult, going to church with friends, I loved the Presbyterian church with its stained glass and simple pews, and it appealed to me because of my Scottish ancestry. I loved the simplicity as much as I loved attending a traditional Catholic mass. I learned that what I loved wasn’t religion but ritual.

But in spite of loving all those aspects, nothing resonated with me, no matter how much I tried. And then, during a Bible study, the teacher read the following verse from Isaiah 55:12. ‘…the mountains and the hills shall break forth into singing before you and the trees of the field shall clap their hands’.

The sudden image of mountains singing and trees clapping their hands resonated. I could just feel the joy in the earth from those words.

My sister introduced me to poetry and Kahlil Gibran’s words ‘And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair’. There, again, words gave me a sense of kinship with the world around me.

Yet I thought I had failed because what I felt couldn’t be religion. I still don’t feel religious. Plus I’m too analytical/skeptical. It’s weird to try and reconcile skepticism with belief.

There’s a difference between religion and spirituality though. One is defined as a specific set of organized beliefs and practices and one is defined as not having those specific organized beliefs. And who knew? There’s even an acronym. SBNR. Spiritual But Not Religious. While I’m not sure that’s me, either, it seems a little closer. Maybe. On the days I can quiet my skeptical thoughts.

I’m proud of my friends who believe with passion and who live their lives according to those beliefs. I love that the practice of religion gives them peace. But I don’t aspire to be that anymore, and I no longer feel like I’ve failed some far-distant male God by not believing, or that I’ve let down my friends.

What I do aspire to is that some day, when I am out in the woods, with my feet on loamy soil and wind in my hair and rain on my face, I will hear the mountains singing and the trees clapping their hands in joy. I will feel the ancient energy of stones and see dreams in clouds and feel the heartbeat of earth under my feet.

That will be my religion and my spirituality.

Flying to Freedom

Juliana Rose Teal has just published her memoir, Flying to Freedom: Healing From Ritual Abuse Through My Life’s Work and Flight. As with all memoirs, the road to this point has been long and difficult. Yet, she has a powerful story to tell and I’m thankful that she found the strength she needed to stick with writing this. The memoir itself may be difficult for some to read, but as Juliana says below, this interview will be gentle with the reader.

Your memoir tackles a difficult subject, and healing is a clear theme. Did you consciously set out with that theme immediately apparent to you, and were there other themes or messages you wanted to explore?

Yes. I wanted Flying to Freedom to be about healing. That is my sole theme.

I wrote my memoir to shed light on satanic ritual abuse, but I wanted to be as gentle with the reader as possible. For this reason, scenes of my astrology, medium, and healing work, scenes of flight training and flying, and descriptions of nature far outweigh the scenes of abuse.

Each chapter that describes flying is tied to my healing process. I showed how I persevered through learning fears and gained confidence as I mastered different aspects of flight. Each flying accomplishment began breaking the hold the cult and my abusive parents had over me.

The chapters about my work are also tied to my healing. I gained self-assurance as I worked with clients, and learned to trust myself and also the guides (angels) that work so closely with me. My work and my intuitive abilities opened and healed my spirituality which was something that had been taken away from me as a child.

My goal is to show that no matter what trauma we have endured, healing is possible, and even though our scars remain, we can find enjoyment and fulfillment in life.

You had many, many roadblocks to telling your story, from the personal to the professional (as in editors telling you it would never happen). What helped you remain true to this story?

I sure did! The whole process of writing and publishing has been quite the learning experience.

I was about halfway through the book when I realized I needed some help. I know how to write
(this is something that has always come naturally to me), but I felt something was missing in
terms of tying my theme to the different storylines in my book. I began to look for an editor to
help me, which was difficult because I had no connections to the writing world. I found the
names of two editors in the back of two New York Times best-selling novels. I contacted them.
Neither would edit books on abuse, but both saw samples of my writing, and I received the gift
of them telling me that I was a talented writer. I had never shown my writing to anyone (besides my monthly astrology newsletter). Their belief in my writing abilities helped me continue to move forward.

Then I approached another editor. She thought my life story sounded interesting and agreed to
edit my book. We exchanged many lengthy emails, where she asked too many detailed
questions about the books I have read and my approach to my book. She eventually asked me
to send my manuscript. A few weeks later I received an incredibly abusive email from her,
letting me know that I should toss this manuscript and write something else. She said some
terribly harsh things that were untrue and uncalled for. I fired her.

I despaired that I would not find an editor, and thought for a short time about stopping. But
what helped me to remain true to my story and continue was an inner knowing that I was
called to shine light on ritual abuse, and that my story is unique and must be told. I felt my book
would be healing to other survivors of any trauma, and that kept me going.

Over time, I not only found one editor, I found three to work with! All had different talents and
focuses. The information they shared helped me to complete my book. Their belief in my story
and their desire to see it published healed the pain of dealing with the abusive editor and
helped solidify my determination to publish my book.

How do you think the manuscript evolved during the editing process?

My book changed quite a bit over time. I cleaned up sentences and fixed typos. I was reminded
to expand certain parts of the book—I had been concerned that I was giving too many details of
my life in certain sections, but found when I expanded these sections, it actually added more
richness and interest to my book.

I also changed some of the content of my manuscript. I learned that each book has one theme.
Just one! Chapters that stray from the theme of the book take away from the storyline and can
cause a loss of focus that can weaken a book. I deleted several chapters that did not contain
healing themes. It was difficult to do, because I liked these chapters, but ultimately, it tightened
and improved my book quite a bit.

Because this is a memoir, obviously you have lived the story your whole life. But at the same time, you’ve carried the weight of needing to share the story, to write it down, for a long time. What does it feel like, having the memoir finally done?

It feels amazing. I worked hard on it for over five years, and to have the finished product in my
hands feels surreal. It is very exciting, yet it is also a bit scary. I did not have a difficult time
writing the book, even the abuse scenes, because I have wanted to write my entire life. I am
fascinated with the writing process and this distracted me from the difficulties I could have
experienced when writing about abuse.

But putting my book out there into the world is another matter. There is a feeling of
vulnerability that comes with it. I have always been a private person, and now the world knows
intimate and painful details of my life.

There is, unfortunately, a lot of denial that satanic ritual abuse exists. I am sure I will run up
against the people who will say that my story is not true because such horrendous abuse is not
possible.

But I am happy my book has been published, and hope that it helps other survivors and their
loved ones.

You became a healer because of the life you had but I’m wondering what you dreamed you would be when you were young.

I was made to believe, from a very young age, that becoming a doctor would be a good career
for me. I am not sure why my parents insisted on this. It would not have been. I have always
loved animals and nature but never thought it was possible to make this love into a career, so I
imagine as a child, any musings about this were stuffed deep inside of me. From a young age I
wanted to be a writer, but I found no encouragement for this path, and did not have the
confidence to pursue it. I did have a hidden interest in the metaphysical/spiritual, and if I had
been allowed to dream about having a career that I desired, I most likely would have dreamed
about this as well.

After all it’s taken you to get to a finished book, to be able to hold your voice in your hands, do you think there is another story waiting to be told inside you?

I would love to write another book, but am not sure what to write about. I am thinking about it.

With the knowledge of the writing process that you now have, what would you do differently when writing another book?

I have learned a lot about linking stories together in a book to help with the flow. My first draft
did not link stories within a chapter or even chapters together well. Now that I am aware of how important this is, I would make sure my next book had good flow from the start. Other
than that, I would proceed in the same fashion—motivation was never a problem, so I would
write every day, and when I was ready, submit my manuscript to editors.

Thank you for taking the time to answer these questions, but thank you even more for sharing such an intimate, difficult, and powerful story.

← Back

Thank you for your response. ✨

The Baby of the Family

Five siblings; four of them girls. Don’t have sympathy for that lone boy. He did just fine harassing his sisters. For example, hiding under our beds at night to grab our ankles.

I thought I’d interview the youngest sister. The baby of the family. You know, the one who got away with everything. Probably because she was so dang cute.

Did you really, from your perspective, get away with everything? Remember now, I had to wait until high school to wear nylons and you didn’t, so be honest.

Did I get away with everything? Absolutely not. The only boy of the family did. He could skip school. Smoke. Drink. Drive earlier. I think the parents were more strict with me after things he did. But I did get to do things sooner than you did. Like wear nylons or pants or makeup.

(An aside: I believe she wore pants even sooner than she had permission to, by smuggling jeans to school.)

Who was the most perfect sibling? Remember now, I’d get up in the middle of the night to take care spiders for you.

Most perfect? You. Duh. Never got in trouble. Never disobeyed or swore or talked back. Was the perfect child. Read all the time. Didn’t stay out late. Didn’t cause any drama or anger for parents. Lived at home the longest. Definitely the favorite child.

(An aside: geez, I was boring.)

Can you overcome childhood trauma to tell us of your experiences with liver and onions?

I think this is what started my food OCD. I was forced to eat liver and onions. Literally. I hated it. Would take me hours to be able to eat it. Gagging. Our sister Beth would sit with me giving suggestions on how to get it down. I couldn’t leave the table until I was finished and mom discovered early on that the dog was the recipient so that option didn’t last. Hiding it in a napkin was also discovered. To this day the smell makes me sick and brings back traumatic memories.

(An aside: it really was that bad. It would be time for bed and she’d still be in tears, gagging and barfing at the table.)

Have you ever forced your favorite sister into a life of crime? Remember now, you made me stop the car so you could uproot a political sign. Might be time to confess.

Did not force my sister into a life of crime. Ever. She was goody two shoes and never did anything wrong. Yes, other than stealing the political sign that I hung in my room that made me feel like I was married to Woody. And, it was her idea!

(An aside again: This was the era of the Bay City Rollers and her favorite was Woody. The political sign was a local politician running for re-election with the last name of Woody. We took the sign and the post and everything. But she never did marry Woody. His loss.)

Can you respond to allegations that you were actually the one who wet the bed and let your favorite sister take the blame for years?

I plead the 5th.

Get your brother in trouble all over again by telling us about the time you were sitting on the hood of his car, or about the rope swing.

Too much to list. But the highlight was when he thought he was being funny and going to scare me. So I am sitting on the hood of his car. After all, why not? All of a sudden he steps on the gas and I flew off. Sprained my wrist which was very painful but not as painful as telling mom. Than the rope swing. In all honesty not his fault but his idea. Swinging out over a slope on a rope tied to tree branch. When it was my turn the rope breaks. Landed on the tree trunk and pulled ligaments in my ankle. We got in a lot of trouble over that one. Was on crutches for a long time. Dad made me a shoe for that foot because mine wouldn’t fit. Cut toes off one of his shoes. I was so embarrassed wearing it. But I got super good using crutches and could even run. When I didn’t need them anymore Dad literally had to teach me to walk again. I’m still not coordinated.

Did you, or did you not, live with a tumbleweed?

Ah, the tumbleweed. I was fascinated by them. They would blow in the wind like a ball. I finally got my very own on a trip and displayed it proudly in my room. Ironically ended up living where they were in abundance and I could watch them out my windows.

Please take a moment to double check the accuracy of your answer to the second question. (Unless of course, you answered it correctly.)

Can’t remember what that question was.

What do you wish I’d asked you?

How it was all those years sharing a bedroom and how it felt growing up the youngest and always having a houseful of people, to being one of the last to leave the herd.

(A final aside: how it was sharing a room? She had to tape a line on the floor that all my junk couldn’t cross.)