The Commodification of Spirituality

Artwork by Gillian Keller

Deep breath in through my mouth. Hold it. And out through my nose. Once more. The smell of
burning sage carried in wisps about the room and a line of polished crystals (rose quartz for activating the
heart, obsidian for protection)on my window sill prove my centeredness, my enlightenment. Yet there
remains an emptiness no amount of material goods could fill. I had perceived the holistic wellness
boutiques situated in West Los Angeles to be a one-stop-spirituality-shop peddling the solution to my
discomfort, pain, anxiety, and depression in the shape of an organic scented candle. I would learn later
(but not before spending too much money) that an acquisition of more spiritual paraphernalia was never a
marker for improvement to my mental health or growth in my spirituality. In reality, spirituality is the
rightful opposite to this kind of consumerism with its emphasis on the human spirit or soul instead. It
seems to me that Martin Luther was on to something when he claimed good works do not achieve
salvation. It may not be salvation that I am after, but it is apparent that the symbolic stones I purchase in
Highland Park are not going to carry me over the finish line. 

The increased commercialization of spirituality has marketed kombucha, yoga, veganism, and essential
oils as cure-alls to fragmented inner peace. Corporations have commodified spiritual direction, all
wrapped in a compostable bow, and I’ve bought into it. Exploiting the movement to seek spirituality
outside of mainstream religious organizations, particularly in white middle and upper-class America,
corporations are more inclined to advertise their products for a mass market, leaving little room for
alternative spiritual groups in any context outside of a commercial one. These dominant companies have
trampled over age-old traditions and rebranded spirituality as shiny, new, and innately materialistic.
Alternative wellness and spirituality are now an accessory branded for me, the privileged American
girl. What I sought, innocently, was quick relief and comfort, and I thought it was available for
pickup in-store. 

Spirituality seekers, well-intentioned and committed, should not rely heavily on what are supposed to be
material supplements. Enigmatic descriptions and impressive promises led me astray as I made a
preliminary attempt to navigate the commercial spiritual movement. “Exuding the spiritual energy of the
wise” made me believe spiritual progress was mine for the purchasing from someone else, rather
than mine for the earning through self-reflection. Not only did this misguidance leave me feeling
unfulfilled, it also left my spiritual progress stagnant. I yearned for interconnectedness but refused to
make the effort needed to achieve it. As it turns out, paying for tangible affirmation in the form of spiritual
tools comes much easier than the price of changing your way of life for spiritual equilibrium.

Business and spiritual values differ fundamentally. The commodification of transcendence opposes the
very nature of a transcendent person. What is logical about selling for a profit the one thing that
transcends earthliness most? Spirituality is no one’s to handout nor is it anyone’s to purchase. The finest
incense, healing crystals, or adaptogenic edible dust that money can buy will hardly earn you the one
thing money can’t buy. Spiritual progress requires time. It was not until I began to see any symbolic
possessions I had invested in as reminders rather than progressives that I bore witness to growth.
Considering my materials for what they were -- of the Earth -- allowed me to make connections between
a spiritual realm and my daily, terrestrial one.

Corporations are looking to sell a watered down, fast-tracked version of spirituality to
consumers who aren’t looking for the real thing. These products have become tools customers may use
to become “at peace” with themselves and the world around them, but by catering to the feelings of an
individual consumer, companies have betrayed an initial intention of the religions these commodities
appropriate: to develop a meaningful world view. Buying into a material spirituality reinforces big
companies’ incentive to market transcendent goods in eye-catching packaging backed by descriptive
language to make their customer comfortable with the status-quo. The last person you want narrating a
path to enlightenment is a CEO aiming to sell as many downloads of a meditation app as possible.
Material goods marketed as enlightened or full of good energy are not a replacement for reflection,
knowledge, and time.