My Joy Body

From Sacred to Superficial: Instagram’s Role in Shallow Spirituality

I went to a kirtan the other day. I needed kirtan. Kirtan provides an outlet for expressing devotion, love, gratitude, and longing for the divine. After a few weeks in Bali, I needed to reconcile the contrasts that are so prevalent here. By contrast, I mean seeing things in unresolved juxtaposition. A clear example is the rubbish dumped in a pond next to a holy water temple, or a monkey temple that honours the monkey, yet has the monkeys in bondage, posing for selfies. Get the idea?

So, there I was, needing to just be in my heart, in a loving relationship with all that is. And what did I find at Kirtan? Contrast! Let me tell you. I arrived and paid my $20 (yes, this should have been a clue that what I was about to enter was a capitalist venture, but I’m a yoga teacher—we all have to live in this world). The place was packed. There were eight or so seats reserved at the front, presumably for the elderly or spiritual leaders, I thought.

We started with an “Aummmmm.” The leader’s mic was so loud that the only resonance was his, so I tuned into the feeling of the vibration from my own “aum.” Okay, that’s fine. Sitting in that energy, the door flew open and in came a group of hipsters: big lips, big hats, and mala beads galore. Okay, no judgment here. They found their place at the front of the space and started to chat. Out came the phones, and the filming and texting began. Okay, okay, I got this—om friggen shanti! I got this. Just keep chanting, Anneliese.

Because our leaders had given the okay for phones in the space, others brought out their phones, and what was meant to be a sacred space of communion became a concert, complete with cheering, filming, and selfies. If I could just hear the communal chant, I might have been okay. But the rock-god leader was intent on being center stage, and well, I was done. I felt like a failure. Buddha would have laughed and smiled at it all. But I’m not the friggen Buddha! I left and went and had a cup of tea.

This experience perfectly articulated what I see so much in Bali: tourists with plastic water bottles by the dozen, oozing their sunscreen-laden bodies into sacred springs and onto coral reefs. Mala beads mined from third-world countries adorn the wrists of people constantly transmitting the experience.

Where is the receiving of the transmission in these holy places?

The impact of social media on our culture, especially in places as spiritually rich as Bali, is profound. The transmissions are strong here and kind of scary. Have you seen some of the deities represented in Balinese art? They’re powerful and intimidating, just like the forces of nature here. I held myself under the sacred spring near the Tegenungan Waterfall, and the dark, raw energy that pulsed up from deep in the earth was frightening and intense. It felt like an initiation into the guts of the mother. The crashing water on my head, the volume of pressure releasing, like the water is desperate to find the light and me, the first creature of light it finds… I felt intimidated and scared. I bowed deeply to her magic and purity and asked for a gentle initiation.

The second time I came to this holy place, people were setting up their phones and spewing their lotions into the bath. How do I reconcile this obvious idiocy? Dear Buddha, show me! I guess this story is as much about me and my inability to filter the world as it is about pointing my finger at that world. My crusade against plastic has waned in the past few years, but visiting Bali has reinvigorated my passion to keep my footprint smaller by degrees, day by day.

Reflecting on my experiences, I realize that the journey to spiritual connection is as much about inner growth as it is about external practices. Bali’s contradictions have rekindled my commitment to authenticity and environmental mindfulness. Perhaps the true lesson here is not just to observe the contrasts, but to transform them through our actions and intentions.

The Influence of Social Media on Spirituality

Social media, particularly Instagram, has transformed how we interact with spirituality. It often reduces profound experiences to mere content, shallow and performative. The presence of phones at sacred gatherings, and the incessant need to document and share every moment, detract from the depth and authenticity of these experiences. We are so focused on capturing the moment that we forget to live it.

This shift towards superficiality is not just confined to Bali. Globally, the allure of social media often leads to a disconnect from genuine experiences. Sacred rituals become backdrops for selfies, and spiritual practices are commodified for likes and followers. This is not to say that technology and spirituality are incompatible, but the balance has tipped too far towards the former, overshadowing the true essence of the latter.

The challenge for all of us is to reclaim the sacred in our lives. To use social media mindfully, to share our journeys authentically without letting the medium dilute the message. Let us strive to honour the spaces and practices that hold deep meaning, to be present in the moment, and to reconnect with the true essence of our spiritual paths. Bali, with all its contrasts, has reminded me of this need, and I hope it serves as a reminder to others as well.