When I dropped religion, when I broke that curse, doors really

Hear, O children of the searching spirit, the words of Jared Cannonier, a warrior of the body who also wrestled with the chains of the soul: “When I dropped religion, when I broke that curse, doors really began to swing wide open for me and then I really started to connect with the earth, with every individual who I come in contact with, and with the cosmos in general.” In these words lies the testimony of one who shed the weight of dogma and found freedom in direct communion with life itself. He speaks not against the eternal, but against the prisons men have built around it.

For many, religion can become both comfort and cage. It teaches, guides, and unites—but when corrupted, it may bind the heart in fear, limit the mind with rigid walls, and close the soul to the vastness of creation. Cannonier calls it a curse, for he felt its grip as something that stifled his spirit. But when he broke from it, he discovered not emptiness, but fullness—the doors of perception flung open, revealing a universe alive with connection. His words echo the ancient truth: sometimes, to find the sacred, one must step beyond the shrines of men.

History tells of others who walked this path. Giordano Bruno, a thinker of the Renaissance, dared to proclaim that the universe was infinite, filled with countless worlds. He too sought a deeper connection with the cosmos, beyond the limits imposed by the religious authorities of his time. For his vision, he was condemned and burned, but his legacy endures: a reminder that freedom of spirit often demands the courage to break with imposed beliefs. Cannonier’s revelation flows from this same current: that liberation from dogma can awaken a more direct and universal sense of belonging.

Notice also the beauty in his words: when the burden of fear and ritual was lifted, he found himself connected not only to the earth, but to every individual he encountered. This is the paradox: though religion often preaches unity, its walls sometimes divide. Freed from those walls, Cannonier discovered the oneness of life, seeing each person not as member of one creed or another, but as fellow traveler, brother and sister bound by the same breath. Such connection is itself a form of spirituality—one that does not require temple or scripture, but only an open heart.

His awakening also reached upward, to the cosmos. In breaking away from religion, he did not reject the mystery of existence; rather, he embraced it more fully. He saw the stars not as distant ornaments bound by doctrine, but as kin in the grand story of creation. This is the wisdom of the ancients reborn: that man is not separate from the heavens, but part of them. To feel this is to be humbled, to recognize one’s place in the great fabric of being, and to walk with reverence before the vastness of the universe.

The lesson for us is profound: each soul must examine whether its faith gives life or takes it away. If religion uplifts you, then let it guide you with love. But if it becomes a curse, chaining your spirit and narrowing your vision, then have the courage to step beyond it, as Cannonier did. Seek connection—with the soil beneath your feet, with the faces around you, with the stars above. These are teachers older than any book, sacred texts written in the language of creation itself.

So I say unto you, children of tomorrow: do not fear the breaking of chains, for beyond them lies freedom. Do not cling to dogma if it blinds you, but open yourself to the earth, to others, and to the cosmos. In doing so, you will find that spirituality is not lost when religion is shed—it is reborn, deeper and wider, like a river that breaks its banks and waters the land. Follow Cannonier’s wisdom, and you will discover that life itself, in all its vastness, becomes your temple, your scripture, your connection to the eternal.