It doesn’t come up much in polite conversation, and I don’t mind that it doesn’t, but occasionally someone asks me, “Are you religious?”

Before I answer, I usually try to figure out what they mean by religious and, probably more importantly, why they’re asking.

If they’re asking because they’d like me to come to their church or place of worship and become part of the community, I politely decline. While I probably could use more friends and people to hang out with, in all honesty I have a hard enough time keeping up with the people already in my life. Adding more just creates another level of complexity I’m not particularly equipped for.

If they’re asking because of their deep belief in Jesus and a desire to help other people find their way to the Bible, I again politely decline.

I respect the path. It just doesn’t fit the way I live.

I get too caught up in all the variations, interpretations and combinations that come with it. I don’t need that kind of complexity in my life. I’ve also reached a point where I believe there are some questions that don’t need answers—or maybe the answer, and more importantly the journey required to find it, just isn’t a good use of my limited time.

But if the question is really, “Do you have a guiding light? A compass?”

That answer is different.

I do.

And this is where the line gets a little blurry between religion and philosophy.

For more than 34 years, I’ve been what I jokingly call a relapsing Buddhist.

I come back to it.

The teachings don’t require me to settle every question about a higher being. What they give me is a way of looking at the journey of life, attachment, suffering, expectations and my reactions to all of it.

And apparently I need frequent refresher courses.

I spend a lot of time reflecting on my life and the people closest to me. Looking at my past and thinking about what I want from whatever time I have ahead, I’ve realized how much I struggle with dissatisfaction.

The drive to “catch up with the Joneses.”

The need to be seen as special.

The desire to be accepted.

The pressure to accept something simply because “that’s the way it’s done” and doing anything differently makes everyone uncomfortable.

Some of that pressure probably helps society move forward. Some ambition is good. Some discomfort is necessary.

But, like most things, moderation matters.

Which, ironically, is how I ended up back here again.

Finding balance. Understanding attachment. Accepting today for what it is. Deciding what from the past is worth carrying forward and what needs to be put down.

Those are pretty fundamental ideas, and I struggle with them all the time.

Most of us probably do.

Writing this even makes me feel a little like I’m trying to justify something or opening the door for a religious debate.

I’m really not.

After this long, I am who I am.

I get lost sometimes. But when I find my way back to this understanding, it tends to be where I find my center and start rebuilding again.

People occasionally ask where my patience comes from.

Part of it comes from how I was raised. When hard compromises are normal and “no” is one of the leading words in your life, you learn to adapt.

Part of it came from baseball. Baseball teaches disappointment better than almost anything. You can fail seven times out of ten and still be considered one of the greatest hitters who ever lived. It teaches you pretty quickly that failure is relative and usually temporary.

And yes, part of it comes from Buddhism.

Things suck.

Things have sucked.

Things will continue to suck.

Your reaction to those things makes a tremendous difference.

So does how long you choose to carry them.

Because ultimately, time is what’s precious.

You never get this moment back.

And I think we’re lying to ourselves if we claim we have no regrets about how some of our time was spent. There are absolutely things I could have done differently. Moments I could have appreciated more. People I could have given more attention to. Things I could have let go of sooner.

It is what it is.

The responsibility now is to use the moments I still have wisely.

Did I get something meaningful from today?

Did I give something meaningful?

Did I enjoy some of it?

Did I waste too much of it worrying about something I can’t change?

If the day was well spent, great.

If it wasn’t, that’s what Sundays are good for.

Reflect.

Figure out where you got off course.

Make the needful corrections.

Then try again.

And maybe, in the end, that’s one of the main purposes of any useful religion or philosophy anyway.

Helping us figure out how to spend the time we have a little better.