Devotion Without Belief: A Reflection for the New Year

At the beginning of a new year, words like resolution, discipline, and commitment tend to show up everywhere.
They’re often framed as something we should force ourselves into — more effort, more willpower, more fixing.

But the word that’s been alive in me lately is devotion.

And not devotion as belief. Not devotion as loyalty to a system, a teacher, or an identity.
But devotion as relationship.

A devotion to showing up for our own lives, honestly, imperfectly, again and again.

Desperation as a Doorway

I didn’t come to meditation because I was inspired. I came because I was desperate. Things weren’t working. The ways I was coping weren’t working.

I was tired of my own patterns and the pain they kept creating.
Meditation wasn’t spiritual for me at first, it was survival. It was self-reflection. It was asking, Can I sit still long enough to not run?

And something shifted.

Not all at once but enough. Enough steadiness. Enough relief. Enough space to feel like maybe this was something I could stay with.

So I went all in.

For years, I showed up, practiced hard, trusted teachers, trusted communities, trusted the path. That devotion mattered. It shaped me. In many ways, it saved me.

When Devotion Cracks

And then things got complicated.

There were experiences in communities I was part of — with teachers I respected — that no longer aligned with my core values.

It shook my trust, not just in people, but in the Dharma itself. In the teachings. In the whole thing.
I questioned everything.

If you’ve ever experienced this kind of rupture, you know it’s not abstract.

It’s personal.

It lives in the nervous system.

And it can make us pull away from the very things that once brought us home.

Staying Without Belonging

What matters for me to say is this: I didn’t stop practicing.

I kept sitting but it got quieter, more solitary, more contemplative.
I explored different practices and healing modalities, which eventually led me toward somatic healing and emotional awareness.

And slowly, something became clear.

Presence was still there. It hadn’t left.
It didn’t belong to a teacher or a tradition. It didn’t disappear when trust broke.

That realization changed everything.

The Return of Community

And still… something was missing.

When we started the Santa Cruz Meditation Group, I felt it immediately, in my body before I had words for it.

I missed community. I missed sitting together. I missed reflection. I missed not doing this alone.

This time, the question wasn’t What should I commit to?

It was What actually resonates with me now? And how do I speak to that in my own voice?

The answer surprised me.

I realized I didn’t need to devote myself to a lineage, a teacher, or a system.
I needed to devote myself to myself  and to ways of being together that felt honest and human.

Rethinking Devotion

Lately, I’ve realized I was missing devotion but not the old version.

That devotion had reverence in it, but parts of it weren’t fully true to me anymore.

So I started asking new questions:

What does devotion look like when it’s not about belief?

What does devotion look like when it’s not inherited, but chosen?

What does devotion look like when it’s honest?

For me, devotion now looks like a commitment to presence.

A commitment to return.

A commitment to my own well-being.

Not perfection.

Not purity.

Not getting it right.

Just staying in relationship.

An Invitation for the New Year

As we step into a new year, I want to offer this as a gentle inquiry, not something to answer quickly, and not something to turn into another self-improvement project.

What does devotion mean to you?

Not the ideal version.

Not the version you think you should have.

But the honest one.

What are you already devoted to, with your time, your energy, your attention?

And what might it look like to devote yourself more intentionally to the people, places, and practices that actually support your well-being?

That might mean showing up regularly to sit with others.

It might mean committing to a practice at home.

It might mean getting more involved in a community that helps you stay connected to what matters.

It might mean saying no to what pulls you away from yourself.

Devotion doesn’t have to be dramatic.

It can be quiet.

Steady.

Relational.

Beginning Again

For me, devotion now means bowing in, not down.

It means honoring the part of me that didn’t leave, even when things fell apart.

It means choosing relationship over abandonment.

And when I forget,  because I will - remembering that even forgetting is part of the practice.

Every moment is another chance to begin again.

If you’re feeling called to explore devotion in a way that’s grounded, relational, and honest, know that you don’t have to do it alone.

For some, that support might look like a personal practice at home.

For others, it might be therapy, movement, time in nature, creative expression, or deepening relationships.

And for some, it might look like sitting in community.

Sit.Feel.Heal. Meditation Center - including our Thursday night sit, exists as one place where we practice showing up together. Not to believe anything. Not to become anything. Just to sit, feel, and remember what it’s like to return to ourselves in the company of others.
Everything I offer has this same intention.

Wherever your devotion leads you this year, my hope is that you find and commit to the people, places, and practices that support your well-being and help you stay connected to what matters most.

Heart open.

Truth intact.

We begin again.

Wherever this year takes you, my hope is that you find ways and communities that support your devotion to what is real and alive in you.

And that you don’t have to do it alone.

With gratitude,

Joseph

Written by Joe Clements — meditation teacher, musician, and founder of the Sit.Feel.Heal. Meditation Center in Santa Cruz, CA. For weekly talks, meditations, and upcoming offerings, visitsitfeelheal.org.