What Is a Spiritual Teacher?

A Conversation With One Of My Teachers

William Bloom is one of my spiritual teachers. I’ve never sat in a room with him, but his books have shaped how I think, how I practise, and what I pass on — so much so that his work forms a thread running right through my Nuts &Bolts 4 Newbies course. When he writes, I read. And sometimes, I answer back.

A few days ago he published a blog titled What Is a ‘Spiritual’ Teacher, asking why we call spiritual teachers ‘spiritual’ when so many of them aren’t — and offering his own description of what a spiritual person actually is: someone developing a relationship with the mystery of the universe, and letting that relationship make them loving, compassionate and mindful.

It’s a beautiful definition. And it got me writing.

Here’s what I wrote back to him — and a little of what’s unfolded in my thinking since.

My Response

Thanks, William, for a thought-provoking blog!

I’m reacting a bit to the demand for stillness, quiet and calm as properties all teachers of what we call spirituality should embrace. While I agree that it is very pleasant to encounter these people, there are also deeply spiritual people who are (loudly) expressive, creative, maybe even a bit wild.

To me, the definition above is lovely AND it totally excludes neurodivergent people, at least those who have trouble sitting still, or being discreet, or keeping their mouths shut.

Yes, I love calming New Age music, and I can also deeply enjoy, say Jacob Collier’s wonderfully creative and expansive expression of pure spirituality (what else is it??) as he brings joy and exuberance and fun just by showing up, not to mention the brilliant music he brings forth through pure inspiration. A wonderful example of someone turned on from the inside affecting millions across the world, bringing the realisation that we all have that God-spark in us. He was allowed to find his at a young age, some of us are still fumbling, but what an amazing example he is of just being who you are and not giving a fig about what others think… and then sharing that with the whole world.

I think the description you have, with all respect, William, while lovely, is a bit of a burden for people like me. It seems as though only certain types of people fit the bill, those who already have a predisposition to be those calm, collected, quiet, deeply listening beings. And yes, they often make brilliant teachers.

I’ve worked as a teacher myself and did my utmost to be more the way that you describe. I remember I’d promised myself I’d become that person before I retired… Somehow it never really happened. And it wasn’t because I didn’t love my pupils, or encourage them or work stubbornly, passionately to empower them, not just with knowledge but with self-knowledge. Some of them loved me back, some didn’t. That’s life.

Question: If we don’t call someone a spiritual teacher (someone who teaches the subject and practice of being spiritual), what should we call them instead, so as to not mix them up with the Math, French, Sports or Civics teacher? While we expect all of those to have gone through a particular type of learning so that they may teach, so-called spiritual teachers have, thank goodness, no school they are forced to attend before beginning to teach other than their own contact with their own Spirit, with their God, their Oneness, their eternal being.

What should these people be called?

And yes, we have some very highly respected spiritual teachers who have recently taken some hard knocks, and in some cases, rightly so. Does that mean that everything they have ever taught has now lost its meaning?

Actually, if you think about it, there are so many spiritual teachers, gurus, priests, New Age leaders etc who use their status to gain unfair advantage over others… Again, has their teaching lost its meaning? Has, for example, TM stopped being an extremely effective meditation technique just because Maharishi apparently couldn’t help himself? I think not.

I believe we are all inherently spiritual, it’s just who we all are, and we express it differently, just like snowflakes or grains of sand or blades of grass. No one way is better than the other. Some ways are better in certain situations than others, that’s all. I think I’ll call myself a reminder.