Why we're burning out

This is the first in a series of posts exploring a conversation between spirituality and some form of sustainable life in our modern world.

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The world is always changing and this change impacts on the way we live, the way we see the world and the way we relate to one another. Prior to the 16th century a lot of change was relatively slow and fundamental changes to our way of being in the world would often take place over long periods of time. But after the advent of science and modernity, transformative changes have become increasingly rapid and are quickly transforming human society. The arrival of the printing press, electricity, modern medicine, the combustion engine and utilisation of fossil fuels, aeroplanes, radio and television have all radically changed the way we live (and the world we live in).

The past few decades, in particular, have seen certain kinds of change accelerate. The emergence of the information technology age, the internet and social media, along with the dawning era of augmented and virtual reality are giving rise to all sorts of new ways of being in the world, of relating to each other, of work, of home life, of faith. Access to knowledge has changed. The speed with which we can accomplish certain tasks has increased significantly. New technology combined with rapidly growing knowledge mean that we are often able to achieve much more than we ever have in the past. In many ways these changes are remarkable. Human beings have an amazing capacity to transform the world in which we live, to think our way through problems, to innovate and develop creative solutions.

But we also need to reflect on the implications of all of this change. The emergence of the industrial world irreversibly changed our relationship with the environment and we are destroying it at a rapid rate. The social order has shifted and while for many of us our status no longer depends on the nobility of our family line, it is often connected to acquiring goods, possessions or fame. The increase of speed and efficiency in tandem with a global economy shaped by consumption has not resulted in less work, but in more. Institutional religion is in a state of instability and for many people the faith of the past no longer provides the resources that help them to cope with the stresses of modern life. 

Life seems to offer us ever-increasing possibilities, but the desire for the ‘next thing’ can often drive us forward in profoundly unhealthy ways. Perhaps it is toward an accumulation and consumption of material possessions in the hope that they’ll meet the lifestyle markers we’re supposed to have acquired, and fill the void that is left when we fail to measure up to our ideal lives. Or we may drive toward a level of achievement at work that provides a feeling of value and significance, but at the expense of our own mental health, emotional wellness, physical health, and relationships.

Despite being able to accomplish more than we ever thought possible, we’re a society that is burning out. Our environment is suffering under the weight of our collective neglect. Our demand for resources outstrips the supply. Anxiety appears to be more widespread than ever. While holding to an image of the future ideal life can be inspiring and motivating, pushing us forward into innovation and progress, the constant and unrelenting pressure along with the overwhelming levels of choice, can also orient us towards a persistent feeling of agitation. And when our entire life is shaped by this narrative it can often turn out to be unsustainable over time.

So what does spirituality have to offer us in this cultural milieu? Understandably, for many of us our spirituality simply mirrors what is going on in wider society, even if it has different language. There are often connections between the way we consume material resources and constantly demand more, and the way we pursue spiritual experiences and accomplishments to meet our desires; and both can lead to a frustration with what we currently ‘have.’ Our spiritual journey can be dominated by the drive to arrive at an ideal and ultimately fulfilling place in connection to the divine and the meaning of life. There is no shortage of charismatic religious leaders and gurus who promise that the answer to life’s big questions are found within their framework of belief and practice. 

If our spirituality has largely taken the same shape as modern life, then it has simply become another layer of seeking more and more; how to go to the next level, the higher step, the keys to success, the deeper experience. But the fruit of this spirituality, while it may give rise to positive change and transformation in certain aspects of our lives, can also lead to a longer-term disillusionment and disappointment as the inevitable ambiguity of our lives creeps back in to remind us that we’re not in control and that our ideal life remains frustratingly out of reach.

Alternatively, our religious framework could compel us to look backward, to a time when we perceived things were better, reminiscing about a “more simple time” and protesting against the technological, moral and religious change that is taking place. Perhaps it is those who wish life would return to how they imagined it to be in the 1950s, or who decry the disintegration of institutional religion, traditional morality and “old-fashioned values”. Nostalgia instead of utopia is the dominant impulse at play here, but the past is often viewed through rose-tinted glasses. The ethics and social norms of yesteryear seldom worked well for those on the margins, for people of colour, for women, and for all of those who didn’t fit the script.

So instead, what would it mean to allow our spirituality to take form as it is grounded in the questions, the frustrations, the pressing concerns, and the beauty that might already be with us, here in the present? To reflect without judgement on our relatedness to God (whatever we might understand by that term), our exploration and attachment to a sense of meaning, the embodied experience of our day-to-day lives, and our connection to one another, here and now, as we currently are, rather than as we hope to be. Perhaps this is a good place to start. To begin with the question, ‘where am I at right now?’

Walter Brueggemann suggests that one of the ways the ancient texts of the Old Testament negotiate this is through the presence of testimony and counter-testimony; that is, telling the story of the good that has been experienced (and is hoped for), but also telling the story of protest, complaint and lament. The authors of the text do not usually pretend that things are better than they are. Instead, their stories are grounded in their experiences, with all of the challenges and difficulties, failures and success - they explore the spiritual life from the middle of their experience rather than from an idealised and abstract picture of a future utopia. Yes, they speak of hope and of longing for justice. And they speak of the future and of promise and of desire for change. But they speak of these things in the midst of their genuine experience in the present. Out of their places of joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, celebration and despair. And they remind us that any spirituality that does not allow us to be honest about where we find ourselves right here in the present, is unable to offer us a sustainable way of being in the world.