Jen Sonstein Maidenberg

About eight years ago, I went through a phase in which I was spending a lot of time on “Spiritual” YouTube. It’s been funny watching some of the influencers I discovered at 100 followers rise to fame since then; observing how they’ve re-branded themselves and their channels since their beginnings as “Law of Attraction” guy or “Space Weather” guy; “5D Ascension” Lady or “Ancient Civilizations Cyclical Catastrophe Off-Grid Prepper Family.” 

In a way, I am really glad for the growing interest in spirituality, personal growth, awakening, and mysticism over the last decade. I often joke that Little Me would be in heaven if she had this much access to esoteric content. And yet, I also feel concerned about how YouTube, TikTok, and other social media distort or dilute spiritual concepts, practices, and information. Some are outright misleading. I have long-since unsubscribed from many of those YouTube influencers because their demeanor, character, and way of being don’t line up with the teachings they appear to be offering.

If you listen carefully, you can hear between the lines their racism, misogyny, homophobia, or anti-Semitism. Oftentimes, I find myself questioning the emotional stability or mental clarity of the individual claiming to be a healer or a guide. If you read the comments section, you can quickly discern the type of community this influencer is attracting. Over the years, I have found myself asking: Is the general atmosphere of the comments section of this channel warm, kind, or welcoming? Are people curious and open-minded, or are they there seeking validation of their already-held beliefs and biases? Do the people commenting overly hype the influencer or fawn over him? Would I be comfortable being in a room with the people who are commenting here?

If the answer is no to the last question, I ask myself: why am I choosing to spend time in this virtual space? Why am I choosing to engage in this “conversation” with this “teacher” or “classroom” over another? 

To be honest, there are very few spirituality channels I do subscribe to anymore. Most of the curated spiritual content feels inauthentic and performative. I may watch a previously recorded lecture at a gathering or a center. I may seek out videos of older pre-internet offerings. In general, I find myself craving modest teachers, who are interested more in sharing their experience as a kind of thankful payback to the Universe for having learned it, rather than a self-appointed representative of a modality, spiritual path, or channelled entity.

I understand that even humble spiritual teachers must pay the bills, feed their family, or put a kid or two through college. I don’t think spiritual teachers should be impoverished or must renounce comfort or worldly pleasures. But the more popular a spiritual teacher becomes the greater care they must take to remain grounded and focused on a healthy, holistic purpose. This is true of all spiritual teachers and clergy, but especially true for social media spirituality influencers.

My main purpose in writing this article is to invite you to pay closer attention to the spirituality content you consume. Remember that on social media, the goal is always views, likes, and subscribes because views, likes, and subscribes = survival on social media. Influencers, like the rest of us, are often driven primarily by survival. It’s difficult for even the most evolved human being to put the well-being of others (especially strangers on the internet) before our own survival.

I know how difficult it is to find a spiritual teacher in your own hometown, let alone a community of people who are interested in the same wacky topics you’re interested in, such as dreams, Kabbalah, the paranormal, out-of-body experiences, UAPs, or reincarnation (some of the topics addressed on this site.) I know how tempting it is to adopt an online teacher or spiritual community as my own because they either seem to know more about a fascinating subject than I do or because they seem more aligned with my view of reality than, let’s say, my workmates or childhood friends do.

Joining an online “spiritual community” is especially alluring when we are moving through a crisis, a loss, a big personal change, or a spiritual awakening. I know how isolating and lonely it can feel when your reality has shifted due to some significant life event or insight experience, and everyone else seems to be hanging out back there in the “old reality.” In fact, many of my dreamwork clients fall into this category. It’s so important to me to offer them first my listening and then (I hope) humble guidance because I know how much I once needed it and couldn’t find it.

We are particularly vulnerable when we start to spiritually awaken. Despite our eagerness and our hunger for more learning, we should be even more careful about who we allow into our minds and hearts during such periods.  

To a lesser-but-still-important extent, we should also be careful about the New Age and Spiritual Development books we read. The mission of the book publisher is not so different from the mission of the Spirituality social media influencer. As with Spirituality YouTube, I have gotten a kick out of the growing shelf space offered to New Age books and products at the chain stores in the last ten years. However, many of the new titles feel shallow and trite. Most of the books in my own growing collection are used, out-of-print works I find through some kind of synchronicity at a small-town shop or library sale. Or they are independently published works from people whose research I’ve gotten to know well in person or online. These folks are typically passionate about their research, at the very least, and committed to ongoing self-growth, expansion, and healing. As compared to the NY Times bestselling self-help author who, these days, is required to first build a large online fan base or social media following before a publisher or agent will even consider her manuscript for review.

At the risk of sounding a little grouchy, I also want to say that I find most metaphysical shops or fairs these days are filled with mass-produced trendy token items that don’t seem to carry much energy or spirit in them despite their labels as such. Not all are this way, but many are, especially the ones you find in a shopping mall or a retreat center gift shop. Talk to the store owner or the person at the booth at the fair before you buy if you are serious about what you’re purchasing. If it’s just for fun, shop away, but consider some sort of ritual to clean the energy of the object you’re bringing into your home.

In general, I find that despite the outward appearance of a mass spiritual evolution of Westerners seeming to take place, I am more careful than ever about the types of spiritual teachers I give my attention to and the teachings I ingest, even if it’s just one video. This is less about their qualifications, certifications or degrees, and more about a deep feeling I get from them when I take the time to tune into my body and heart. I suppose I am trying to take that interaction as seriously as I would a meet-up with a stranger or a new friend in cafe. Is this person deserving of my time, trust, and attention? 

Sure, sometimes I’ll watch a video from one of the astrology influencers I used to tune in regularly to back in 2018 because her teachings resonate even if her messaging doesn’t. Sometimes I’ll drop in to one of the ancient civilizations channels to hear about some new discovery beneath the pyramids, but click off when he starts ranting about a conspiracy. 

I believe this is all just part of the spiritual growth process. We are all on different points along the path. We discover and then outgrow teachers. Some of us eventually land on one particular spiritual path or are lucky enough to meet and be apprenticed by a formal or informal mentor. Over time, many of us become more our own teacher, more secure in our own direct experience, and less reliant on the teachings of others. 

In the meantime, ask yourself some of the above questions about the online spirituality content you consume, believe, or pass on to others. Not everyone who claims to be is truly in a position to teach you or offer you healing.