Spiritual Footprint

A Meaningful Conversations gathering in Tuscon (USA) happened around a topic you had to think about for a second: what is your spiritual footprint?

The format itself was simple. A few short passages were read aloud, three at a time. Two or three sentences each. No lectures. No analysis. No one explaining what the passages “really meant.”

The words were simply placed into the room like little stepping stones across water.

“You must become distinguished for loving humanity, for unity and accord, for love and justice.”¹

“Let him do some good to every person whose path he crosseth, and be of some benefit to him.”²

Then a carefully crafted question was asked about the Writings that had just been read.

Then people talked.

Then three more passages.

Then more conversation. Then three more.

That was it.

As they spoke, one by one, people slowly began leaking their realness into the space.

A woman unexpectedly teared up while speaking. A man became visibly emotional trying to explain something he cared about. Pearls of quiet human wisdom fell on soil soft enough to hear them and receive their promise.

An older man stood up while reading one of the passages and delivered it with such startling conviction that it felt less like reading and more like a declaration that humanity itself had just been reprieved. His whole body got involved. His voice rose. His eyes widened. The room became brighter around him.

Everyone leaned in as he stood and read:

“Lift up your hearts above the present and look with eyes of faith into the future! Today the seed is sown, the grain falls upon the earth, but behold the day will come when it shall rise a glorious tree and the branches thereof shall be laden with fruit. Rejoice and be glad that this day has dawned, try to realize its power, for it is indeed wonderful! God has crowned you with honour and in your hearts has He set a radiant star; verily the light thereof shall brighten the whole world!”³

After he finished, several people burst into applause at his passionate delivery.

And that changed the atmosphere. It was sacred, but it was also fun.

There was the feeling of safety. Not manufactured intimacy. Not group therapy. Just an unusual absence of danger.

A gentleman introduced an idea that might have produced conflict in another setting. Instead, here, it wasn’t argued with. It was simply allowed.

And then something softer started to emerge: a room full of people quietly permitting one another to be human, each glowing a bit brighter as the conversation deepened, each leaking a little more realness into the space.

After the conversation, the room was almost empty. No one was speaking anymore. Most of the people had already drifted out. The chairs were empty, and yet the room itself felt saturated.

There was still a presence in it. A warmth. A softness. Something tangible lingering in the atmosphere, as though the conversations had left an imprint behind after the people themselves had gone.

Someone said: “There’s your proof. There’s your spiritual footprint.”

Another voice answered, “I feel it too.”

And suddenly the title made sense.

A spiritual footprint is not what we claim about ourselves; it is what remains in hearts and places where love has been made welcome.

1. Abdul-Baha, Promulgation of Universal Peace, pg. 190 [↩]
2. Abdu’l-Baha, Selections from the Writings of Abdu’l-Baha, #2 [↩]
3. Abdu’l-Baha, Paris Talks, #21 [↩]

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Oraea Varis

Oraea Varis is a writer, musician, and longtime student of spiritual transformation. Her work explores faith as lived experience, the healing power of creativity, and the ways love becomes visible in community. She lives in Tucson, Arizona.