When I was in college, my best friend, who was from Oakland, California, invited me home with her for winter break. In all of 8 days, she introduced me to sushi, nose piercings, and Eastern religions. Aisha was one of the coolest people I had ever met: she was raised not just Buddhist BUT ALSO Hindu. [only in California!] She took me to an ashram, my first big venture outside of New England Congregationalism, and it blew my mind. People of every color gathered for some hot gruel and mugs of chai before the service began. It was all free. Then we gathered in a giant gymnasium, on our little mats, and chanted in Hindi for an hour or more. That was almost 25 years ago now but I can still see the gym and the Kingdom-hued people; I can still taste the gruel and chai. It was terribly novel and interesting, and a little bit boring, all at the same time, as such things tend to be for people who are just passing through. The problem was, I was outside the mystery of their worship.