toxic spirituality
Move over, #cleaneating – now it’s all about crystals... but do they have merit?
You guys are spiritual, right?” asks the waiter serving us in a restaurant in Capri, Italy. Clad in our usual black, even on holiday, we look like the girls from The Craft. “Crystals. You’re all wearing them,” he says, before fixing his eyes on me. “Except you?” To my uncomfortable surprise, all my friends chant in unison: “No, she doesn’t believe.” He eyes me with pity, prompting a conversation about the merits of crystals. I sit in silence; I’ve lost my appetite. Friends for more than a decade, we haven’t been away together since the end of school. Now I’m wondering if this trip was even a good idea.
At 27, our careers have taken us in different directions – styling, sports PR, teaching and my job as a PA in film – but we’ve always had a shared history to keep us together. These days, though, I increasingly feel like an outsider. None of us grew up in religious families and the liberal school that cemented our strong group bond certainly wasn’t the kind where you sang Christian hymns during assembly. Yet over the past six months, they’ve developed a shared affinity to a new wave of spirituality that’s pushing me to the margins.
Until a year ago, my only reference points for crystals were the amazing mood ring in My Girl, the tiger’s eye in Practical Magic and greying, longhaired seaside hippies selling dreamcatchers and expensive turquoise (which I’ve recently learned is “fantastic for the throat chakra”). It’s been disconcerting watching my girlfriends, one after another, adopt a “spiritual” path that’s involved visiting healers, regressing to past lives and spending hours in Newage shops. The words “energy”, “vibrations” and “meant to be” have become part of our group vernacular, and I’ve somehow found myself on the other side of the beaded curtain.
I’ve read crystals “communicate” with one another and that they can help everything from period cramps to attracting a mate. I ask my friend Gabrielle what she misses most about home while she’s away. I assume she’ll reply, “My boyfriend.” Instead she says, “My crystal humidifier – it’s amazing” – then launches into a monologue about the merits of the different aromatherapy oils you can
put in it. This kind of chat has replaced our usual conversations about binge-watching The Walking
Dead, our mad love of Amy Schumer, boyfriend dramas and the ins-andouts of our careers. We have all had therapy at some point (heartbreak, grief, addiction in our families) and none of us claim to believe in God, so I find it hard to get my head around this cosmic shift.
In the past couple of years, the cult of #cleanliving has infiltrated our lives in the form of juice cleanses, yoga retreats and inspirational quotes filling everyone’s social-media feeds (#cleaneating has been Instagrammed a staggering 21 million times). Most of us seem to have fallen down the spiralised, gluten-free, organic rabbithole and it’s set up a dynamic of positive versus negative. Cleaneating is no longer enough and the “superfoods” that are said to boost our brain power just aren’t cutting it anymore. New-age spirituality is back in fashion. We must cleanse our souls, minds, chakras and bodies.
A toxic aspect of this spirituality is its emphasis on your strength of belief – taking what’s supposed to be a benevolently powered search for meaning and muddying it with competitive one-upmanship. The iconic self-help book, The Secret, has sold a whopping 19 million copies worldwide and claims if you believe in something strongly enough, it will come true. My friend Chessie, an actress, holds a specific crystal religiously before an audition. If she gets the part, she believes the crystal is responsible. If not, it must be her fault for not believing enough, prompting a cycle of self-loathing.
The spiritual path now comes with a host of must-have accessories, from crystal pendants to crystal-infused beauty products, which contradict the very definition of spirituality: relinquishing the material things in life. A growing celebrity following reinforces the idea that if you buy and believe enough, you’ll succeed. Victoria Beckham revealed she carries crystals backstage at her fashion shows. During the publicity for last year’s film Spectre, Sam Smith posted an image of crystals he’d purchased, saying he’d always been sceptical, but it was time to “give it a go”. There are even claims Oprah bathes in them.
The cost of this kind of spirituality can be seriously high, both financially and emotionally, especially when it doesn’t deliver on its healing promise. Crystals often come with a hefty price tag and there is a wealth of fakes available on the market for believers to fall victim to. So are those poor suckers who are sold fakes worse off, spiritually speaking? In 2001, a psychologist from the UK’S Goldsmiths university tested the effects of crystals on 80 participants. Half were given real crystals to hold while the others were given fakes – 74 out of 80 reported physical and emotional sensations from the “crystal” they were holding. Belief was everything.
For me, spirituality is something private and contemplative. I’m wary of anyone who announces they’re “a very spiritual person”, who posts endless yoga selfies on Instagram and puts #spiritual, #wisdom and #peace in every caption. Spirituality has evolved into a status symbol; it’s becoming a sport – another thing to add to the must-do list. It prompts a toxic cycle causing me to defensively nitpick at the integrity of my friends’ life choices, the details that don’t quite fit their spiritual bill of health, such as having a messy night out or perhaps kissing another girl’s boyfriend in between mouthfuls of spiralised zucchini.
After the waiter finally takes our dinner order in Italy, I was hoping normal conversation would resume. “I have the best idea,” says Gabrielle. “We should all go to the beach and wash our crystals under the full moon.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve heard it’s better to rub them in eucalyptus oil,” says Katie, who’s recently returned from a juice retreat. “You’re welcome to stay at the hotel,” Gabrielle says to me. “I know this isn’t your thing.”
That night, after a few cocktails, the girls head off to the beach but Sarah stays behind. I find the courage to tell her how I’ve been feeling about this new fad taking our friendship group hostage. To my utter relief, she concedes what I’ve said is fair. Spirituality is all about living with acceptance, after all. She reveals she’d felt threatened by my non-belief, that it made her feel insecure and like her behaviour was silly. The truth is, I did judge my friends for putting so much of their energy, faith and cash into what I saw as faddy, inanimate objects, and for making me feel as though I couldn’t be a spiritual or positive person if I didn’t use crystals. At the same time, knowing my cynicism had hurt their feelings was horrible.
These women are like my sisters and not sharing this “journey” has taken its toll on our friendship. But if I have faith in anything, it’s our lasting relationships. I don’t want to look into a crystal ball and predict the future, but I wonder what will happen when the next trend surfaces. Will crystals seem so 2016?
“CLEAN-EATING IS NO LONGER ENOUGH AND ‘SUPERFOODS’ AREN’T CUTTING IT ANYMORE. NEW-AGE SPIRITUALITY IS BACK – WE MUST CLEANSE OUR SOULS, CHAKRAS AND BODIES”