Some people put up their guard at the word “spiritual”, suspecting an evangelical membership drive or a snake oil sales pitch. I can understand that. I am guilty of doing the same. I dislike the way the experience of awe has been commodified. I have no truck with retailers who purport to sell me salvation in the form of culturally appropriated, mass-produced dream catchers.
For most of my life I have been a devotee of modernity, believing in science as the only valid epistemology. When I was 17 I turned my back on the Catholic faith of my childhood and rebelled in the biggest way I knew how, joining the astrophysics team at summer science camp. I used to pit science and spirituality against each other, thinking I had to declare fidelity to one.
The word “spirituality” can be traced to the Latin spirare, to breathe. It has taken me years to allow the spiritual part of myself to do just that. It has been hard, coming out as “spiritual”. People sometimes shudder when I tell them I am an interfaith minister, and edge away from me at dinner parties, even after I explain that I don’t believe in God. They don’t hang around long enough for me to tell them that science is on my side.
Over the last 40 years scientists have also taken an interest in spirituality, looking to define it and discover its utility. The 32-item self-report questionnaire, the Expressions of Spirituality Inventory – Revised (ESI-R), operationalises spirituality into five dimensions, including cognitive, experiential and existential aspects of this domain of human functioning.
As someone embracing spirituality outside religion, I am not alone. A fifth of Americans describe themselves as spiritual but not religious, half of those in Britain who do not identify as religious are still open to mystery or a higher power and in Australia, 38% of gen Z identify as spiritual.
Australians are especially low-key when it comes to spiritual expression. The sociologist Gary Bouma described Australian spirituality as less publicly explicit than in other western nations, with Australians having a more “laid back” spirituality. He quoted the historian Manning Clark, who described the Australian approach to spirituality as “a shy hope in the heart”.
Spirituality also has an ecological dimension, with many people describing their most profound experiences of awe and transcendence when they are in nature.
Australians are lucky to benefit from the wisdom of First Nations spiritualities, which frequently place the wellbeing of the Earth on an equal or higher footing than human progress. A spiritual connection with, and veneration of, the environment can help people to “re-member” humans as part of a wider ecology.
For me, spirituality is not about believing in a set of facts or praying to a deity. Spirituality may contribute to my wellbeing but is not solely (pun intended) about how I feel. Instead of a fear of eternal damnation, cultivating a deep sense of connection can motivate me to be of service to others, the group, and the wider world that I live in.
Being spiritual is about feeling spiritually connected to others, and the planet and the long arc of history, and acting as though I am spiritually connected to others, and the planet and the long arc of history. Awe, transcendence, wonder, mystery – these are the affective states of spirituality, sparking the shy hope in my heart that I can co-create a better world.
Jackie Bailey is the author of The Eulogy, winner of the 2023 NSW premier’s literary multicultural award. When she is not writing, Jackie works as a funeral celebrant, helping families navigate death and dying. This article draws on research for her forthcoming nonfiction book about spirituality for the non-religious
