I don't call myself a Buddhist. I'm a free spirit. I believe I'm

Hear now the words of Alice Walker, a poet of the soul, who declared: “I don’t call myself a Buddhist. I’m a free spirit. I believe I’m here on earth to admire and enjoy it; that’s my religion.” In this saying shines a flame of ancient truth, that life itself is sacred, and the heart that marvels at existence worships more deeply than one who kneels without wonder. Her words strike not against religion, but against the chains of labels, reminding us that the truest faith is to awaken, to see, to cherish, and to rejoice in the gift of being.

For in the beginning, before temples were built and scriptures written, humanity’s first religion was wonder. The rising sun was holy, the flowing river a hymn, the stars above a choir of fire. To stand in awe before creation was the earliest prayer, and to delight in life’s abundance was the first form of worship. In calling herself a free spirit, Walker returns to this primal altar, teaching us that reverence lies not in rigid identity but in open eyes and a grateful heart.

Consider the story of Henry David Thoreau, who withdrew to Walden Pond, seeking not the noise of society but the silence of nature. There, he declared that to live deliberately, to confront the essentials of life, was to find a religion greater than dogma. Like Walker, Thoreau believed that the sacred was not confined to churches or rituals, but breathed in the rustling of leaves, the glimmer of water, the presence of dawn. His life became a testimony that one who admires the world deeply walks in holiness, even without a title.

Walker’s words remind us also of the Buddha, who, though often claimed by religion, spoke simply of seeing life clearly, free from illusion. The Buddha taught the sacredness of the present moment, and though Walker says she does not call herself Buddhist, her creed echoes his: to admire and enjoy life, to awaken to the miracle of existence. Thus her declaration is not denial but affirmation—a call to live as one liberated, not bound by labels, but boundless in spirit.

The wisdom here is fierce and gentle at once: that joy is a form of worship, and appreciation is a form of prayer. Many live as though they are prisoners, rushing through their days without pause, blind to the sky, deaf to the birds, numb to the sweetness of air. But Walker’s teaching exhorts us to slow, to notice, to let the soul drink deeply of life’s beauty. This is no idle pleasure, but a sacred duty: for one who does not appreciate the gift of life has squandered the temple in which they stand.

The lesson for us is clear. Do not be enslaved by titles that divide, but let your spirit roam free in gratitude. Practice admiration daily: look upon a flower as though it were the first bloom of creation; watch the sunset as though it were painted for your eyes alone. Practice enjoyment daily: eat with mindfulness, walk with presence, speak with joy. Let your religion be not only what you profess, but how you live—an ongoing hymn of appreciation.

Therefore, O traveler of time, follow this path: free yourself from the prison of labels, but bind yourself with cords of wonder. Do not ask, “What name is my faith?” but rather, “Do I live in reverence, do I live in joy?” For as Walker teaches, if you make admiration your creed and enjoyment your practice, you will discover a holiness larger than temples and older than scripture. You will walk the earth as a free spirit, and the earth itself will become your sanctuary.