How is it that one approaches issues of spirituality in marriage counseling sessions? Are these questions not best handled by a minister, priest, or religious elder? Perhaps. Perhaps, when the topic is a theological or doctrinal question.

But my focus develops a communication process for a couple that not only brings clarity, but also a communication style that reflects their stated religious or spiritual beliefs. This is only a first step in a process that the couple will return to periodically during their partnership.

First, I want each individual to share what he/she remembers about their spiritual training as a youngster. What do you remember about what your church, your parents, or your grandparents taught you about religion, or spirituality in your growing up.? What was it that you were taught as a child?

What was your church or synagogue, or temple experience?

How have you modified some of those original beliefs as you have grown and have had new experiences? What part of your original teachings do you still carry or that bring you comfort in difficult times? What experiences and relationships have helped you rethink and reshape your own beliefs? Are there events, specific events that have had a major impact upon shifting your notions of spirituality?

Do you currently have any spiritual or religious practices, either weekly, or daily? How much are your religious or spiritual teachings of part of your daily thought life, or a part of your daily decision-making.?

How easy is it for you to express to your partner what your spiritual or religious views are? What is most central and most important to you?

How well do you believe that you understand your partner views and what is most central to them? What is your understanding as to the differences and the areas of agreement the two of you have on your views of religion or spirituality?

At this early point in the process, I am not stressing agreement or compromises; just a clarity of understanding.

Secondly, I want to know how much the couple’s views overlap, and how much is separate. How much emotion is attached to these differences? How much does each of them desire to find that common ground? Can the each focus on what is the common ground? Or are they fixated on the differences?

Does their approach to this discussion, how each of them conducts themselves, reflect their stated spiritual beliefs? How compassionate can they each be when it comes to tolerating differences?

And, most importantly, how much is the quality of compassion a part of their daily thought life?

Developing this dialogue process, helping each of the partners to describe the nature of their internal beliefs gives the couple a way of connecting during critical crisis moments in the years to come as they face unexpected events or experiences.

That is what makes this issue important part of marriage counseling sessions.

For those of you who do not know me, this is the time of year I attend to my annual ritual of a solitary retreat, taking my tent camper to an empty state park campground for the week. When I arrive late on Labor Day Monday, the campers are gone, the dumpsters are spilling over with trash, and only raccoons or cats scavenging for food can be seen in the campground.

A friend of mine remarked, “How can you spend a week by yourself? The most I have ever done is one day.”

After spending the mornings meditating and writing in the retreat journal, it is time to take a 3 hour hike on trails through woods and steep terrain. After an early dinner, I settle by the campfire or the river to read until dark, then retiring to sleep until the herons awaken me. (When I say dark, I mean dark, -- moonless, no electricity, stars only, dark. )

The retreat is an annual ritual; a time without human contact, a time to read, write and reflect on the life I have watched and lived over the past year.

“The life which is unexamined is not worth living.” Plato noted a few years ago.

Listening to the inner dialogue on retreat helps me find meaning in this life.

For more than 90 minutes, Daved and I watched with amused interest.

Except for bathroom breaks, the four Certified Zentangle Teachers® shared nonstop in an excited, animated way their experiences of Zentangle Art, their insights from the last training, their experiences of teaching others, and the joys expressed by those they had newly trained. The emotional fervor of the moment forced them to occasionally reach out and touch each other, or shed tears of rapture and wonder.

 I could've sworn that these women had just returned from some fundamentalist revival meeting.

 A one point, my eyes lost focus on the scene in front of me as the women’s words faded. Suddenly, I am an 8 year old boy, watching from the top step, mesmerized, as my aunts, Maude, Fanny, and Amanda, three of my dad’s sisters, circled on the porch for a Sunday afternoon, competitively share their experiences of the latest revival meetings, of hearing the most inspiring evangelists, of giving testimony to their spiritual experiences, and of having brought others into the fold.


 This scene from my childhood has not been in my consciousness for half a century. Now it has been called forth most vividly by the four women in front of me sharing their inspiration from the latest “revival meeting” with “Brother Rick” and “Sister Maria"; thus having been inspired to go out and “teach the gospel” to others.

Profoundly touched by this experience, their lives have moved to newer, richer paths.

"In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.” wrote Norman Maclean in his novel A River Runs Through It. One could easily paraphrase his quote to “between religion and Zentangle”.

“But……….” I can hear you protest, “There's no theological doctrine in Zentangle. No right. No wrong. Nothing that gets you sent to Hell. They have nothing in common.”

I beg to differ. Even an alien visiting this planet for the first time can see the similarities.

In your mind, picture two video screens, side by side, one shows your usual religious service, the second, a Zentangle® teacher training. No sound; only video. What do we see on both screens?

We see people entering quietly, expectantly, greeting each other with smiles, anticipating a shared experience.

People move to their places, sit down and become less animated.

The moment the leader/ leaders stand in front of the group, the group members all give their undivided attention.

Soon, they all bow their heads.

For everyone, the focus is on the space in front of them.

After a period of time, the quiet focus comes to an end, people look up, turn to each other and smile.

Later, when the entire gathered ritual is complete, and the participants continue to congregate, speaking warmly to each other of what they had just experienced.


Since ancient times, the function of religious rituals has been to quiet the body, to still the mind, to narrow the focus to very specific point in time and space, and to lower the frequency of vibration in which we exist. In that stillness, we can come in contact with the very ground of our being. In that place, we become more loving, compassionate, and creative. From that place, artists create, musicians compose, and writers write.


In the silence of our observation, Daved commented it was his thinking that creativity was about connection; connection to something deep inside, as well as in connection to others outside. I think he's onto something there. Zentangle, like religion, connects us with something deep and mystical inside, and allows us to somehow connect with the community at large in some more creative, compassionate way.


Community, whether it comes from shared creativity, or shared Christianity, has a kindred basis. For both congregations, community is a byproduct that arises from a collective transcendent experience. Zentangle, like all spiritual practices, is one path to that experience.