Enlightenment: Now Available for Purchase!
Periods of political upheaval in the United States often produce an unexpected cultural phenomenon. When institutions feel unstable and conflicts escalate, Americans tend to turn inward, and that inward turn frequently takes the form of spirituality. Across decades, moments of national anxiety seem to create waves of renewed fascination with practices especially rooted in Eastern culture and philosophy. When nothing seems to be working, these novel routines are last stitch efforts to grasp at emotional clarity. This impulse repeats again and again, though the form it takes has shifted dramatically. What was once rebellion at its inception has now become about pushing product.
This pattern can be traced back to the late 1960s and early 1970s. Against the backdrop of the Vietnam War and off the heels of the civil rights movement, distrust in government authority was palpable. Countercultures thrived. Many mainstream values by embracing spirituality as an alternative social framework. Hippie communities experimented with Buddhist and Hindu philosophy, turned toward communal living, and embraced psychedelic mysticism. It’s here that the “flower child” was born. Though popular media today often caricaturizes them as barefoot, long haired, overly laid-back youth, their messages of peace, love and nonviolence were directly tied to anti-war sentiment and opposition to U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War. Their actions were all part of a broader rejection of Western militarism, and turning toward these Eastern traditions was their way of rejecting the political and cultural systems that were producing violence and inequality. Spirituality at this moment still represented a search for liberation rather than consumption.
Three decades later, a version of this “spirituality” returned to prominence under different circumstances. By the early 2000s, public confidence in political and economic institutions had again begun to fracture. The Clinton impeachment, the highly contested 2000 election, and various major corporate scandals exposed the instability of systems that the public was told to trust. With the tragic attacks on September 11, uncertainty intensified. In this climate, yoga and mindfulness entered the American mainstream at unprecedented speed. But in addition to being poised as a way to calm the mind and find inner peace, the practice’s appearance in pop culture, such as celebrity endorsements and glossy lifestyle magazines, played their own part in yoga’s popularity. What had once circulated as a discipline embedded in philosophical traditions began to take shape as a wellness routine and aspirational habit. The focus of spiritual practice now shifted away from rejecting the system, and toward learning how to endure life within it.
Across these periods, the underlying impulse remains consistent. When political life feels overwhelming, people search for meaning outside institutional authority. Spiritual practices offer frameworks that feel personal and emotionally cathartic. Something as small as lighting incense or attending a yoga class offers a sense of participation in one’s own stability, removed from a seemingly uncontrollable system.
In the present decade, this pattern is once again unfolding in real time. The return of Trump to the presidency, combined with continued political polarization, ongoing global conflict, and economic uncertainty, has once again produced this backdrop of instability. In this environment, the cultural turn inward has reappeared with even more intensity. Practices centered on mindfulness, yoga, and manifestation have surged again, offering individuals a sense of control over their lives.
What has changed is what those practices are meant to accomplish. Earlier waves of American “spirituality” emerging from collective social unrest were framed as acts of refusal. Contemporary spirituality still arises from anxiety, but is now more about self-soothing than transformation. A way to process exhaustion rather than confront its cause. While energy has always been directed inward, before it was used to create outward social change before, but now that same energy is used to artificially construct a sense of self.
This shift is captured in the recent trend circulating online of being “spiritual but materialistic.” Accompanied by aesthetically pleasing montages, we see photos of designer bags and private jets flashing between those of supermodels like Gisele Bündchen and Christy Turlington in various yoga poses. The phrase playfully references the paradox of how many young adults are living today, believing themselves to be spiritual and mindful, yet idolizing material goods. While seemingly harmless, this sentiment perfectly demonstrates how spiritual practices increasingly operate through consumption. It is not simply that wellness and luxury now coexists, but that spirituality itself is being redesigned to fit a consumer mindset. There’s no longer any philosophical commitment when everything is turned into an aesthetic display or personal branding.
When spiritual practices are designed to be bought, they must be simplified, streamlined, and made immediately gratifying. “Wellness” retreats promise a complete life transformation over a single weekend…at the small price of a down payment of course. And a new matching set is needed every time one attends a yoga class where not a single pose is said in Sanskrit. What once required true devotion, dedication, and discipline to achieve, is reshaped into an accessible, purchasable experience. In this way, capitalism restructures spirituality. Instead of asking what a practice demands, it becomes centered on what it can deliver. Reimagining these traditions is not only problematic in some ways, but the shiny veil of consumerism also starves individuals from the possibilities of actually discovering meaningful practices that can drastically improve lives when done earnestly.
Another aspect of this strangely hollow contemporary spirituality is how consumption is framed as a treat. It’s encouraged as something one deserves after hardship, and completely commodifies a previously immaterial philosophy. The tension of the world around us takes a toll on our bodies and minds, and we’re signaled that everything can be solved by purchasing the latest self-care product. Social media accelerates this transformation. Identity is now constructed with public perception in mind. Spiritual aesthetics circulate rapidly, and what may begin as a genuine practice becomes a template others can replicate to stay on trend. What was once interior is now optimized for visibility.
Seen from this perspective, contemporary “spiritual materialism” may also reflect a sense of resignation among younger generations. Many understand that their lives are so deeply intertwined with consumer culture that breaking from it entirely simply feels unrealistic. Rather than attempting a full rejection, spirituality just becomes a facet of this new reality. There is an acceptance that we live in a material world. The irony of the phrase itself suggests awareness, but awareness on its own doesn’t dissolve structure. Even when the contradiction is acknowledged, spirituality still operates within the logic of branding, display, and profit. Which is why this adaptation carries its own risk. It can be nice when spiritual practice softens the emotional weight of existing within such a corrupt system, but when it becomes absorbed into consumption and aesthetic performance, it gradually loses the ability to challenge those very systems.
Still, the persistence of these cycles reveals something deeply human. Across decades, Americans continue searching for meaning when public life feels unstable. The impulse itself has never disappeared. What’s changed is the structure surrounding it. Spirituality once existed outside the marketplace, and today it’s entirely packaged within it. The question now is not whether people will keep turning towards wellness and self-care during moments of upheaval, because history suggests they will. The real question is whether those inward turns can still produce reflection strong enough to create impactful change again.
