THAT’S NOT VERY SPIRITUAL

We tend to think of being spiritual as perhaps living a pure life or eating a perfect diet. We align spirituality with holy temples, meditation, incense, ancient philosophies or wise people speaking in soft voices quoting ancient texts or maybe through mystical magical encounters. We might think spirituality exists in certain places, with certain people, using a certain language. But we are being spiritual in everything; in every connection, presence and moment of life. Whatever you’re looking at, whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re reacting to, is a spiritual doorway. You can sit in a silent retreat for ten days and still spend the entire time comparing yourself to the person next to you, wondering if you’re doing it right, or congratulating yourself for being more aware than others. The room may be silent, but inside you can be as noisy as ever. Stillness isn’t a location, it’s a way of being, and life offers you that doorway anywhere.

A pub is just as holy as a Himalayan retreat. Have you ever been in a crowded, noisy pub and felt a sudden, overwhelming warmth of human connection? Connections are valuable, whether over a herbal tea or a cold Guinness. It’s a moment where we are really being seen by another person. Being three pints deep into a conversation with a friend, laughing till your ribs ache, raises your vibration.

Even the most ordinary tasks can become mirrors. Let’s say, your life is quite stressful and busy. You’re reading a cookbook as you prepare dinner and the recipe says - ‘take time cooking the onions. Be patient. If they burn, you need to start over.’ Suddenly, you see it isn’t just about the onions; it’s about how you are moving through your life.

We treat some activities as being non-spiritual, like going to the pub or watching trash TV, as if they’re detours from the real path. But these can reveal just as much as if we were sitting quietly in nature. One person drinks to disappear, to get numb and avoid. Another sits with the same pint but stays present, noticing their reactions, when they tense up or relax, when they are pretending to be someone else and where they are real. The location doesn’t determine the depth. Awareness does. People can run guilt trips on themselves by getting annoyed in traffic, as if irritation somehow cancels out spiritual progress. But the irritation is the progress. It’s the moment we get to see ourselves clearly.

Housework, too, becomes a teacher. You stand at the sink, hands in warm water, annoyed that no one else has helped. You feel the irritation rising, and in that moment you have a choice. You may choose to let it dissolve and that tiny shift, invisible to everyone else, is as spiritual as any meditation. Washing a muddy dog, folding laundry, wiping crumbs off the bench … these are not distractions from life. They are life.

Growth isn’t reserved for the quiet moments; it’s offered in the friction. It’s there when an interruption sparks irritation, when you feel the desperate urge to prove a point, or when you’re simply tired, bored, and uncomfortable. Yet, it is equally present in the stillness, in the steam rising from a cup of coffee, a fit of genuine laughter, or the simple act of sitting in the sun, content in the moment without holding onto it.

So the next time you think, ‘I’m not being very spiritual’ because you just spent hours on internet games or indulged in cream cakes, pause for a minute. Enlightenment isn’t a fragile vase you’ll shatter by swearing or eating a burger. It’s not a club with a dress code. It’s something that threads through every moment, whether sitting on a yoga mat or inside a cathedral, a car wash or supermarket queue.

Whatever you’re looking at, whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re reacting to, that is the doorway.

Love,

Sandy Stevenson

4.4.26