WHO’S YOUR GURU?
The new cult of celebrity enlightenment.
Is your luminary Jess Magic, the musical storyteller who runs invitation-only Soul Salons for the rich and famous? Or Amanda Chantal Bacon, Moon Juice founder. Perhaps it’s her more famous contemporary, Gwyneth Paltrow? Maybe you visit the Hairwitch when you’re in Brooklyn and get a side of Sanskrit healing with your blow-dry? Do you follow Instagram affirmation queen Cleo Wade? Progressive pop-stars Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez? How about the self-help author Gabrielle Bernstein, who says “the universe has your back”? Or are you more into memoirist-turned-civil rights spokesperson Glennon Doyle? Is your guru Oprah? The woman you buy crystals from? Or is it someone so cool and niche we haven’t even heard of them yet?
Welcome to the golden age of the guru, where it seems as though everyone has someone to turn to in times of trouble — or at least, in those times when we’re scrolling through Instagram, a little bored and in need of a boost to get us through the rest of the day. It feels as if just about everyone I follow (and by that I mean, every woman I follow) on social media has something or someone they rely on for faith and affirmation. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen someone credit their massive promotion/swift recovery from heartbreak/long-awaited pregnancy/[insert chosen major life milestone here] to their birth chart, a self-help book or a citrine crystal.
At a time when we’re more inclined than ever to believe that crystals hold the key to success, it comes as little surprise that mainstream religion is seriously on the decline. According to the most recent Australian census, in 2016, “no religion” is now the most popular choice, ahead of Catholic, Anglican, Uniting Church, Islamic, Buddhist, Presbyterian, Eastern Orthodox, Hindu, Baptist, Pentecostal, Lutheran and Sikh. Furthermore, niche religions including paganism, Wiccan and even druidism are increasing in numbers. Where traditional belief systems such as Christianity are suffering from major PR crises (the Royal Commission into child sex abuse, for one), smaller, more personalised religions are gaining traction. And alternate forms of faith in surprising areas — from astrology to self-help to Instagram-friendly affirmations — are cropping up everywhere.
“[Astrology] is like a new philosophy, one that doesn’t give a shit about sexuality, gender identification or socioeconomic class,” says astrologer and influencer Cori Amato Hartwig (@manicpixiememequeen). Many millennial women feel these alternate forms of faith offer a type of inclusive, accepting spirituality that is not always found in more traditional forms of religion. It’s easy to see why people are into this stuff, even if to some of us it looks a little kooky. Jess Magic, the musician who runs singalong salons in the living rooms of tech billionaires (described as “Burning Man at home”), encourages all participants to embrace, smile and have a “songversation” with her. Cleo Wade, who has turned her Instagram affirmations into the self-help/memoir bestseller Heart Talk: Poetic Wisdom
For A Better Life, has become a guru for the millennial feminist — many of those who attended the March For Our Lives in 2018 used Wade’s slogans for their placards. “[Girls] revere her in the way that you would adore your favourite loving, creative aunt or older sister,” says Reese Witherspoon of Wade. The Cut simply called her “the millennial Oprah”.
These new-wave faiths could not have come at a better time and their increased popularity is indeed due to the current climate of instability. During moments of political and cultural uncertainty, we crave strong narratives and solutions to tricky questions — or even just the ability to put the question out there to the universe. Krista Burton, writing in The New York Times, ascribed the popularity of these new forms of faith to a future that “feels terrifying”. “We’re trying out new things that are actually old things,” she says, referring to crystals, astrology and the positive kind of charismatic leadership. “We’re seeing what else could make life a little more meaningful, a little more bearable.” As the world gets (literally) hotter, as house prices rise and rise and as politicians continue to disappoint, is it any wonder we’re turning to ourselves (through the guidance of others) for introspection and nurturing?
This quest for personal transformation — whether it be fuelled by gurus such as Gabrielle Bernstein, Elizabeth Gilbert, Cheryl Strayed, Sheryl Sandberg or even Oprah — is nothing new, says Cristina Rocha, an associate professor at Western Sydney University. “It has its roots in the Human Potential Movement of the ’60s and ’70s, and other counterculture movements,” she explains. “It’s about understanding and healing yourself — constantly being on the lookout for ways to improve who you are.” Sophi Bruce, who teaches at The School of Life, says the desire to be more self-aware is noble. “People need to be nourished in different ways, and if looking inside yourself to find healing can help you, then I think that’s fantastic.” The flipside of this, though, says Rocha, is that these new forms of faith are so introspective they don’t allow for collective action and collective growth. “Turning to something like astrology because you feel lost is fine, but it doesn’t allow you to look at the structural problems in society and what role you might play there.”
If there are any women in this brave new world of gurus who have a real shot at making lasting changes that could overcome structural inequality, it’s those like Glennon Doyle, who have parlayed their fame in this new sphere into true political activism. Doyle, a Christian mummy blogger turned bestselling memoirist, who ELLE US referred to as “the guru of the moment”, has positioned herself as the leader of the Christian resistance to Trump. She told ELLE US last year, “We wake up in the morning and literally say to each other, ‘Coffee and revolution.’”
The guru movement is not without its detractors, of course — there are those who dismiss astrology or affirmations or self-help as inconsequential and lacking in substance. Banu Guler, co-founder and CEO of popular astrology app Co-star, says she’s used to people seeing her field as silly. “We’re so quick to dismiss things that are embraced or driven by women — think about fashion or beauty, how quick we are to write those off as trivial.” Astrology, she says, is a “social glue” that helps women, in particular, find a sense of community. “Politically, we’re in a tumultuous moment,” she says. “The situation is untenable, so people want something to cling to that can make sense of the chaos.” When it comes to the dissolution of faith, Guler points out that people aren’t just losing their faith in politics, it’s social media as well, especially after Facebook’s Cambridge Analytica data-leak fiasco. “People want to find meaning and structure. So what if they find that in astrology or crystals or in reading a book with new ideas? I just don’t get why you’d want to dismiss that, if someone found real meaning in it. Isn’t that what we all want?”