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If there's one thing all traditions seem to agree on–from secular/scientism to ancient traditions to New Age spirituality / SBNR (spiritual but not religious)–it's that an eclipse is an opportunity for observation and reflection. It invites us to examine the lenses through which we view the world – the beliefs, assumptions, and frameworks that shape our understanding of reality. In the shadow of the eclipse, we are prompted to consider what is revealed and what is obscured, both in the sky and in our own minds.


As laid out in the previous posts, the view of eclipses within many ancient traditions is embedded within a complex system of meaning, informing specific practices for aligning with the energies at play. SBNR, in contrast, often recognizes the numinous quality of eclipses (that they are significant), but without the same depth of mythological and cosmological context (an understanding of their meaning and the practices that align with that meaning). This approach can yield a superficial patchwork of concepts lacking the coherence and transformative power of traditional systems.


This lack of coherence and rootedness also leaves SBNR vulnerable to the influence of consumerist culture. Without a robust framework of meaning to anchor the spiritual significance of eclipses (and other phenomena), they can easily be reduced to aesthetic experiences or commodities. More seriously, the risk is that this entire brand (pun-intended) of spirituality devolves into just another form of consumption–capitalism masquerading as wisdom.


Crafting a genuinely meaningful individual spirituality is a daunting task. When we choose to forge our own spiritual path, we're essentially taking on the work of an entire lineage single-handedly. Without the clarity and coherence of an established tradition, we may find ourselves grappling with confusion and contradiction as we attempt to integrate disparate ideas and practices. We may sacrifice the depth and transformative power that comes from fully committing to a single path. Whether the freedom to explore, question, and craft a personalized spirituality is worth these challenges is up to you. If you choose that path, my invitation is to approach it with eyes wide open – to be honest about our own limitations and the cultural and economic forces and systems at play, to seek out genuine sources of wisdom, and to do the hard work of integrating our insights into a coherent and deeply lived practice.


Postscript for my materialist/rationalist amigos:

Of course, scientism offers another framework for understanding the world. But it's important to recognize that science, for all its immense value, is not exempt from the limitations of belief systems. It too rests on philosophical assumptions and is shaped by cultural contexts. Though it presents itself as purely objective truth, it functions as a religion of its own.

The problem isn't dating apps, algorithmic feeds, fast fashion, or single-use plastics. They are mere symptoms of an underlying sickness infecting us all. The same forces that created those things have already shaped you. Can you live in a culture of capitalism without being profoundly shaped by it? Without having your very heart and mind commodified?


We can delete the apps (or never have used them) and still have the same commodified ways of thinking and relating that produced them. Ours is a culture prioritizing convenience, disposability, zero attention spans, and cheap dopamine hits. Is it surprising then that we date like day traders? Buying and selling penny stock relationships, while lamenting the lasting bonds our parents invested in. Our attention spans have been strip-mined to maximize corporate profit. We cannot sit with discomfort for even a moment without frantically seeking distraction. Why believe in repairing a relationship when you can simply discard it like last season's bag?


We've devoured the toxic teachings of online influencers peddling sociopathic self-obsession – that we don't owe anyone anything. We gobble it up greedily because it sanctions our worst impulses. But you don't exist in a vacuum. You live in a society, and you do owe things to people - it's the covenant of being part of a community.


We fall in love with surfaces, aesthetics, mere stories, a million little meaningless things – not the human beings behind them. We're unable to recognize the one thing that actually matters because all we've ever known are those little hollow things. We don't know ourselves deeply enough to identify and cherish what's truly important when we find it. What actually matters, beneath all these manufactured wants? To decommodify our hearts is to undertake the difficult work of unlearning all these "values" that have colonized our psyches. We must relearn presence, discomfort, commitment. Only then can we open our hearts to what's real and lasting.


It won't be easy. I'm still stumbling along, unlearning habits etched into me by a ruthlessly effective culture of commodification (that I helped perpetuate). Here are some things I've found helpful in decommodifying my own heart: Listening to The Emerald podcast. Learning from indigenous teachers. Spending time with elders. Sitting in ceremony. Jungian analysis. Conversations with friends dedicated to self-exploration.  If you decide to take this journey, know that there are others with you.

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