Many of you know that I LOVE Danielle Beinstein. Not only do I turn to her for all of my astrological inquiries and needs, but I also find her to be one of the most intelligent, culturally well-rounded, grounded, and interesting people in my community. Here she shines a bit of light on our personal interaction with spirituality.
D | I’ve always been curious. Anything and everything interests me. Endlessly. I was one of those kids who loved school, loved homework, who raised my hand incessantly. I always wanted to know more, to challenge the status quo and wrestle with an idea. It’s how I’m wired.
“You’re too heady,” others would often say to me. They weren’t wrong. I had a habit of over-intellectualizing. But it was born, always, from a desire to understand, even if I knew the answer was unattainable.
Funny, then I ended up in a profession associated with those seeking answers. But the truth is that answers are not really what astrology - or spirituality, for that matter, is about. It’s about thriving in uncertainty. It’s about uncovering our truth and surrendering to our most authentic selves.
We’re wired, as humans, to seek security. Our brains are designed to keep us safe. Of course having answers makes us feel safe. But safety is an illusion. It’s born from fear.
“If you’re interested in security and certainty," Pema Chodron has said, “you’re on the wrong planet.”
Spirituality offers a bird’s eye view, it allows us to see things from a higher perspective, rather than clinging and grasping.
When we let go, we allow our lives to unfold organically. We no longer force our will. We are able to receive the life that’s waiting for us.
Spirituality is a framework, but it isn’t the whole picture. That is drawn from our interests, our passions, the things that light us up, and how we shine in the world.
There is a misunderstanding, I think, between the two. At least there was for me.
I remember when I began my spiritual journey, or least became conscious that I was on one. Anything and everything became about spirituality. Like in puberty, when sex begins to ignite the brain. For a while, I lost interest in other things. Or thought I had to. I was confused.
But the deeper I went into my spiritual practice, the less I needed to think about it, or speak about it because it became integrated. I could return to the things that had once consumed me, but from a wholly different perspective. They became expressions, rather than containers of my true self.
True spirituality gives us the courage to live more deeply, to engage with life more fully. It’s not about changing who we are, it’s about enhancing it.
I’ve found a healthy outlet for my hyper-curious mind. I can harness it. I know when I need to tune into my intuition and trust my inner self, my heart. And I know when I’m in a creative mode, replete with ideas, pulling the puzzle pieces together in an effort to extract something new.
Like anything, it’s how we use what we have and the lens through which we perceive it. I love culture and literature and theater and ideas and the arts. Others love sports or design or basket weaving or cooking. There is no right way to be in this world, no set of interests that are superior or inferior to another. They just are. Like through a stained glass window, our spirituality merely lights them aglow.