Spirituality & Politics, the Ancient way

In today's fractured world, we can perceive a profound divide not just in political ideologies but fundamentally in the kind of world we envision. This divide challenges our core beliefs—what we feel is worth fighting for, how we connect with each other, and how we steward the Earth and all its inhabitants.

It is not a matter of choice but a profound truth that we are all deeply interconnected in this world. From an early age, I remember recognizing the undeniable truth that the fate of tiny ants and mine are profoundly intertwined. The water I drink is the health of a river on the other side of the world. The pain and suffering of people I have only seen on screens are inextricably linked to my own.

Despite this inherent and inescapable interconnectedness, I've encountered a disturbing trend in modern spirituality. Many have retreated into a cocoon of individualism, focusing solely on personal enlightenment while millions cry out in anguish. This self-centered lens dangerously ignores that true healing is a communal journey that must boldly extend to those most in need, embracing a vision of compassion and collective action. Each of us has a crucial role to play in this collective healing.

I do not pretend to have found the way or hold the answer to the crises we face. My intention is not to claim an enlightened path or point fingers. I am acutely aware that I am also navigating my journey through the cracks of this divide, striving to understand and contribute where I can. It is a complicated dance that we are all learning.

Our revered elders and native communities have long suffered under capitalism and greed, offering us wisdom birthed from endurance and insight. For me, their stories reveal a truth we too often ignore: politics and spirituality are not separate islands but parts of a single, teeming ecosystem. Ram Dass brilliantly observed that politics is just another spiritual practice—a system ripe for transformation through passionate activism and civic engagement. If we're willing to be part of this change, we can channel our energy to create a world steeped in respect, justice, and love.

When voices argue to "keep politics out of spirituality," they perpetuate a dangerous fallacy, cultivating an artificial rift that fractures our understanding of existence. Politics is not an external force but a reflection of our inner world, influencing every facet of life and demanding our vigilance—social equality, ecological responsibility, and human dignity.

I was recently asked, "What does politics have to do with ancient wisdom?" This question crystallized for me the connection that is both visceral and intellectual. Ancient wisdom embodies our interconnected nature, acknowledging the balance between action and consequence. To sever politics from this wisdom is to deny the essence of ancestral teachings that have long fought for justice, community care, and the sacred stewardship of Earth.

A group of students in our shamanic school concluded that "love and light" spirituality is often a seductive distraction that deepens the chasm between what it means to be truly human and engaged. At its root, it is a byproduct of colonialism in its current form.

I am not saying we do not need "love and light," but occasionally finding our center through retreat and self-nourishment is necessary, but this is not the lived reality of existence. It detaches us from humanity and blinds us to the raw and pressing realities we must face. True spirituality always calls us to the world's challenges, to bear witness, and to engage—not to retreat.

The elders I am immensely grateful to work with and native populations thrived on a philosophy where spirituality and governance were indivisible, guided by empathy and respect for all beings. Their wisdom insists on kinship, ensuring everyone flourishes in concert with the land.

At its core, politics expresses how we coexist, share, and honor each other's humanity—embodying the very essence of ancient wisdom. By participating in politics with insight and reverence, we honor those teachings, carving out a space for justice and compassion.

But to be clear, politics must not be distanced from spirituality but seen as its extension—an active engagement in creation's sacred rhythm. Each choice we make, every position we defend, is part of a complex choreography between the spiritual and the "mundane." The timeless wisdom of our ancestors cannot be removed from political discourse, for both form the bedrock of a world woven together by empathy and unity.

So yes, our world aches for transformation—a political renaissance inspired by empathy and driven by unwavering care. I envision politics that treasures our water, preserves nature, and protects the vulnerable—those besieged by war, famine, and neglect. This pursuit transcends dividing walls, blending the sacred with the worldly and mending our collective soul.

For those blessed with privilege, whether through skin color, wealth, or social standing, we must recognize its power as a tool for action rather than a shield for isolation. It demands we amplify the muted voices, empower the dreams of the silenced, and build our influence as architects of justice. Like the Indigenous communities who staunchly defend their spirit and land, we, too, must stand resolute against oppression, transforming our privilege into a beacon of positive change and support for those who need it most.

In this crisis, I call the spiritual community those whose hearts want to experience the profound blessings of genuine connection, sacred reciprocity, and empathy to shun isolation, remember their sacred promises to uplift the needy, articulate the muted voices, and challenge the forces that endanger our shared humanity.

Let us intertwine our individual narratives and weave connections into a cohesive fabric—a communal narrative woven from the threads of understanding, inclusion, and fierce love.

We hold the power to build an ancient and radical form of politics; one that honors the interconnected sacredness of every life and boldly opts for a politics of "we" over "me," a politics of "our bodies" over "my body," and a politics of "our family" over "my family."

With care,
Angell Deer