I used to be one of those people who went to coaching courses and spiritual retreats like it’s a competitive sport.
Naturally, each course had to come with a certification or it wasn’t worth the effort. If “Shamanic Breathwork Facilitator” or “Reiki Grandmaster” doesn’t impress you, how about “Quantum Touch”? But by far the most substantial investment of time and money buried - besides an almost-Bachelor degree in medicine, went into my “Quantum Human Design™” practitioner certification, Level 3 I might add. Completed it and never touched it again.
If you had asked me about my spiritual practice five years ago, I’d proudly pull out my latest Alana Fairchild Oracle deck, recite favorite passages from Osho’s “The Secret of Secrets: Secrets of the Golden Flower” and tell you everything about my healing crystals collection. I could probably even pull off the title of a self-proclaimed evolutionary astrologer, numerologist or tarot reader, if it would only guarantee to make me be perceived as “special”.
On the cusp of the global shutdown in early 2020, the next chapter, a.k.a. my Priestess Era, was all mapped out. Ten day Vipassana in New Zealand? Booked. Awakening Heart Sacred Egypt Tour? Check. Ayahuasca ceremony in Costa Rica? All set.
At one point, I was seriously contemplating donating all my last belongings, moving in with a Native American tribe and seeking initiation in the sacred practice of shamanism.
By now you must be wondering how someone who occasionally prides themselves in being “rooted in science” ends up in the most woo of woos and still expects to be taken seriously.
I hear you asking for proof, so the obvious choice is to share my vision board and water blessing ceremony from Bali.
Nothing screams desperation like the compulsive need to instantly fill up empty space after an event that wiped your entire calendar. Good luck doing that during a global lockdown.
If midlife-crisis to a man looks like purchasing a minimum of three obscenely expensive racing bikes, a couple unflattering spanks to match the vibe and the entire Garmin product palette (coz, why not?), a woman’s (semi-)midlife crisis looks very different.
Mine arrived early dressed up as the pursuit of a late medical degree. After all, it’s never too late to make your folks proud, right? Except, this (again) turned out to be a task impossible to accomplish.
I may not have become a doctor but what my spiritual detour to Bali and my hard landing in the world of traditional medicine taught me was disturbing. Two seemingly very different worlds had something disturbing in common: their utter separation from reality.
"Happiness cannot be pursued; it must ensue." Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning” holds up the sobering mirror for the realization that the more desperate the chase for meaning, the more elusive it becomes.
In Frankl’s worldview, there are three sources of meaning:
Creating work or doing a deed (purposeful work or creativity).
Experiencing values (especially through love, relationships, beauty, truth, as opposed to the relentless pursuit and serial consumption of spiritual experiences).
Choosing your attitude toward unavoidable suffering (finding courage in the face of adversity, without trying to optimize it away).
It took me a good while to come to the shattering realization of the futility of my own lifelong pursuits up until this point. To be willing to admit how the personal development industry has corrupted each of these three sources - turning meaningful work into ego-parade, brand-building and credential collecting, turning authentic experience into spiritual consumption, and turning acceptance of suffering into another never ending self-optimization project.
Like every recovering junkie, my withdrawal symptoms from spiritual consumerism hit me hard and in places I didn’t expect.
Turning toward “hard science” to balance it off seemed like a logical next step. But my rude awakening didn’t stop there.
Take neuroscience for example. You might not want to hear this, but here's a hard truth: we've turned neuroscience into a wellness charade.
Complex neurobiological realities get reduced to clickbait brain hacks while severely understudied and underserved neurodivergent populations get relentlessly pathologized as undisciplined, unproductive and “poorly regulated.”
All so some pseudo-decorated “cognitive research” influencer can build their personal brand on your insecurities and land a podcast episode with Tom Bilyeu or Lewis Howes in the process.
Or Holistic Health - another shamelessly exploited avenue for the predatory biohacking narrative.
But the shiny instagrammable facade of “holistic” preached by health influencers who couldn't explain basic biochemistry without resorting to Wikipedia first is not holistic care.
It's exploitation under the guise of empowerment.
Your struggles deserve an approach that is grounded in actual science, not another Goddess retreat.
If you’ve been around for a while, you know that I write a lot about neurodivergence - for very personal reasons. So forgive me when I spill the beans about why “holistic” care often misses the point when it comes to (hidden) female neurodivergence:
Claiming a treatment plan as “holistic” without accounting for the biological complexity of female neurodivergent architecture is like labelling your zucchini “organic” just because you grew it in your backyard and you didn't use pesticides (knowingly).
Abandoning science at the cost of esoterics can be not only dangerous, but potentially harmful.
Not every “calm-your-nervous-system-and-you'll be-just-fine” approach works for neurodivergent women whose biology is fundamentally different.
There’s beauty in hiding behind the philosopher’s mask. Elegance even. There’s always another book, another quote, another podcast episode, another “container” that calls your name and wants you to “claim it” already. But what happens when all of it dissolves? When you throw it out of the window and try and sit with yourself for once?
I broke up with my version of spirituality years ago.
It’s been one of those on-again, off-again codependent relationships that would take me on high highs and low lows for years.
But something was stirring today, and it made me re-listen to a satsang by Gangaji I never got over. The core message?
Stop Everything. Just Be.
That’s what I’ll be sitting with for a while.
I came for the title and stayed for the story. It was really interesting to read and I can relate to some of the points. I love how you wrote it. Provocative and funny yet insightful.
My own story is leaning more towards the "hard science" but I came to a very similar conclusion. It takes some uncomfortable work to strip down the illusions our ego has built (or adopted).
In the end our search for meaning is an individual one. It's in plain sight, if only we start listening to it.
A raw, reflective, confrontational yet insightful read, Violeta!
Whether it’s spiritual retreats, degrees, or certifications, the chase for meaning often turns into consumption. And this consumption then pulls us away from the chase itself. We feel we are moving closer to finding the purpose but we just end up collecting labels.
What I have come to realize is that the meaning isn't something to search or chase. It's something we create.
Brilliant piece!