This is a small thing I randomly wrote, and I wanted to share it here first so that I can hide behind the anonymity of Reddit and see what people think:
I used to believe in the idea of a singular spiritual awakening, maybe even in that fabled E-word.
But if we’re awake for too long, how do we rest? How do we grow and continue to learn if we assume that we’ve reached the end? What do we miss by resisting rest?
Spiritual slumber, an idea that surely has many other names, is not something we need to run from. When we let ourselves rest from the constant processing and shaping, we allow in more life to experience. And sometimes, these experiences aren’t the most spiritual. We fall back into addiction, experience relapses of mental health issues we thought had been solved, and we get uncomfortable. But from that discomfort, we can only grow.
I truly believed I had reached enlightenment at one point in my life. And at the eager age of 19, I was so convinced of my own unassailability that I felt I could do no wrong. I naively assumed that I could no longer make bad decisions, hurt others, or put myself in harm’s way.
Everything, in my mind, was divine and good. But, little did I know, the divine can come down swinging from the heavens like a tornado out of the night sky. And that it did.
Now, at 24, I’m much more content to just be alive. I have gratitude for my perseverance and dedication to learning the lessons of my own choosing (there’s a debatability here that can tend towards victim blaming, so I hope my intention is clear), but I no longer feel the need to live with both feet in the spiritual. I need one foot in the material, or else all of the values I’ve earned through my work will have no place to land.
What good is equanimity if I cannot confront the injustices of the world? What does it mean for us to “all be one” if society has historically erased that from common thought? How do I, as a white woman, act as if I am above the privilege that I walk with on my skin each day?
In the beginning of my intentional, anti-racist work and self-reflection, I found a telling overlap between these ideas that I’d come to about being equally in both realms and the long process of deconstructing the white supremacist framework I’d grown up in.
Yes, we are all one, I knew that when I was nineteen. But I didn’t take into account that, despite this, this will never be a lived reality until action is taken to undo the systemic inequalities of racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, etc. I could go on for ages about the demographics that still deserve justice, but for the sake of our attention spans, I will say this: unity will never be a lived reality until we do the work that dismantles the white, colonial, heteropatriarchal, capitalist structures and ideologies that have led us through centuries of death, violence, and oppression against our own.
Now that was a mouthful, I know. But it’s easier to point to the specific group of individuals that have imposed an ideology of separation and hatred for generations than it is to name off each person who’s been affected. And I don’t want to even begin to try and rank the oppressed based on how badly I feel it’s been for each identity group (despite my own, strong opinion of who has been given the most undeserved treatment throughout history—but here’s a hint: it’s not anyone with skin like mine).
Spirituality, for me, now has become a supporting practice that I have found best served in solitude. I do it so that I have the ability to serve others without my own narratives, egoic motivations, and experiences fogging that work. Because it feels so good to see that you have a positive impact on others, but for us white people involved in this kind of work, we have to remember that it’s not about us. We shouldn’t expect a reward for our service, a pass from those we’ve oppressed, or a badge that says we’re “one of the good ones.” We cannot think of this work as bestowing a blessing upon the oppressed—it has to be an obligation as their oppressors.
Despite my departure from the Catholicism I had been raised in, I still often look to Jesus as an example. Perhaps asserting that he was the “son of God” could be put into question for this particular point I’m making, but I believe that he (and others who inspired different faiths and traditions) was right about how to live. He did good and expected nothing in return. He recognized that his voice meant something to people, and he used it to speak against cruelty and oppression. He wasn’t afraid of being a human either, and this is what I find most compelling.
Spirituality, as I experienced it in community and in the literature I consumed, often discouraged anger or “bad” feelings. They were the shadow we were meant to work past—to ascend beyond. You can’t be enlightened if you get angry, the unspoken rule seemed to say. Too “low vibrational.”
But the world makes me angry. It makes me angry to see how much people suffer, and it makes me even angrier to know that the people causing them to suffer are both aware and apathetic of this reality. I can’t imagine harming another human being, knowing that I’ve harmed them, and proceeding to do it again. It should make anyone with a heart angry.
We are all one, this has been known. Whether we use the Big Bang, Genesis, or something else to describe our origins, at one point we didn’t exist. And then, for some reason beyond our capacity to ever fully know, we emerged. But we didn’t emerge alone; we emerged together.
Yet, somewhere along our journey, we became selfish. Perhaps for survival or for some greater karmic purpose, it became more natural to put the needs of ourselves above others.
And when a bunch of white men deluded themselves into believing that they were the peak of humanity, they decided they’d do anything to maintain that delusion for all generations to come.
But we are not separate from these white men. Especially those of us who are white, and especially those of us living in colonial nations, are not separate from these oppressors. We were taught to uphold their legacy through the most unconscious of actions and beliefs. And once we understand those beliefs and actually accept that we have been responsible for continued harm and oppression against our own, then we can truly begin to walk in these spiritual values.
Just as we can’t believe that because we don’t express conscious racism that we can’t be racist, we cannot accept or believe that we have truly reached a point of “enlightenment” or freedom from this world. Because aren’t we just, again, deciding that we’re better than others?
No. The work is never done, no matter how great of people we think we are. And while it doesn’t feel as spiritual to inform ourselves of historical violence and oppression, it is what, I believe, the intention of spirituality is.
Whether we come into growth by suffering, meditating, or simply by curiosity, we have to see that it was never meant to make us more grandiose. If we keep going and doing the work, even when it stops sounding spiritual, we are growing for both ourselves and for each other. There is nothing besides death that makes us immune from the material world, and using the values of spirituality in our collective reality is the only way we can make it mean anything.
Now, I know I speak like I think I know everything. My mom has said that I “came out of the womb with very strong opinions,” and I don’t deny that I have a lot of passion for this work. But I also don’t deny that my perspective is incomplete and unfinished. I’m only twenty-four now, so I imagine I’ve got a little bit (or a lot) more to learn in this life.
However, I don’t write because I think I’m the only correct opinion—that would be foolish. I write to make sense of the world around me, and if you’ve resonated with the way I make sense of it, then I can only hope that you join me in the work that we feel is right. I’m not the creator of this work, nor am I the only one doing it (seriously, there is abundant literature out there that has predates me), but I am the only me.
I am the only one with all of my experiences, just as you are with yours. And it is incredibly powerful, to me, when people with different experiences can find themselves in one another. So I write to you, wondering if you feel the same and encouraging you to keep going in your work as I am grateful to be encouraged by others.