Am I Weird For Still Going to Raves While Living a Spiritual Life?

When I recently told a friend about my weekend plans to go out dancing, he seemed surprised.  “You still go to raves?”

Of course, I still go to raves. Why wouldn’t I?

“But I thought you don’t drink or do drugs,” he said.

I don’t. These days, I’m trying to live a more spiritual life, which involves gaining greater awareness of my mind and learning not to be controlled by my thoughts and emotions. Intoxication is one of the things I know can get in the way of this process. So, I avoid it.  

“But how does raving fit into the way you’re living your life now?” my friend responded.

It was a good question. Perhaps it did seem a bit weird to still be attending raves while trying to live more spiritually.

Was he right?

I know how it looks from the outside. People in wild outfits dancing to blaring music well into the next morning. The environment can come across as wild, unhinged, even hedonistic.

But it’s also so much fun. I love being in a crowded room full of people who have come to dance, lose themselves in the music, and enjoy the moment.  

For several years, I was attached to this feeling of escape. As I filled out spreadsheets at work, all I could think about was the next time I would be back in that crowd, dancing my troubles away.

It was a ticket to a place far from the mundane world of work meetings and rush hour commutes. In the rave world, I was no longer a stressed-out, cog-in-the-machine kind of guy. It was a moment of freedom that I couldn’t seem to get anywhere else.

It’s also where I met my wife, and something we continue to share to this day. In our current stage of life, we both cherish the opportunity to have a night out where we can dance, enjoy some music, and spend time together.

But over the past few years, I’ve made some significant changes in my life. As I got older, I became more aware of my emotions and wanted to find a way to understand them without suppressing them. After doing some research, I decided to give meditation a try.

And I’m glad I did. After consistently practicing mindfulness techniques for several months, I began to notice something I never had before. I found that I could observe my thoughts and emotions without being swept away by them. The best way I can describe this meditative state is to imagine rising above the thrashing waves of an ocean, allowing you to observe them from a safe distance. The waves are still there, but you are no longer being tossed around by them.  

With this new perspective, I became better at responding to my emotions rather than automatically reacting to them. I also became more aware of my motives and desires, which helped me recognize the habits that were getting in the way of my inner peace.

But one thing that seems to have persisted is my desire to go out dancing. My wife and I continue to attend events on a monthly basis, still finding excitement in the occasion. I can see why my friend was so confused about this. On the one hand, I claim to be trying to maintain mental equilibrium, and yet on the other, I’m voluntarily submerging myself in a hectic environment.

Inwardly, however, my new way of life has drastically altered my relationship with raves. I’ve come to realize that the happiness I associated with being in a crowded dark room isn’t entirely dependent on being there. Through meditation, I’m learning to access a sense of contentment in any setting I find myself in.

Raving still allows me to share deep moments of connection with my wife, but it’s no longer something I need or crave. I don’t feel deprived if a rave is cancelled and can still enjoy an evening at home just as much.

Becoming more in tune with my inner world has also helped me become more honest with myself. I’m better able to recognize when late nights and overstimulation begin to undermine my peace of mind.

At the same time, I have to remember that self-awareness isn’t a guarantee that I’m seeing myself clearly. It’s easy to use spirituality to justify something I don’t want to give up. Attachment can be subtle, and so I need to remain honest with myself. After all, the goal isn’t to abandon every pleasurable experience, but to examine how each one impacts my life.

To keep peace in my life, I need to remain alert to signals for change. If I start struggling to settle my mind during meditation, or the loud music and bright lights leave me feeling out of balance for days afterward, I hope I’ll be willing to walk away. None of these signs alone would tell me everything, but together they could help me recognize when raving is no longer beneficial. 

For me, a calm state of mind matters more than any particular experience, and I’m willing to do all that I can to preserve it.

So, am I weird for going to raves while trying to live a spiritual life?

While I don't consider raving a part of my spiritual practice, I do value it as a way to strengthen my bond with my wife and have a chance to move my body. I come from a culture of dancing, and so I think that this will always be a part of who I am. More than that, it’s an opportunity to apply what spirituality teaches me: to enjoy an experience without clinging to it, to remain aware of my mental state, and to recognize when it's time to let it go.

It would be difficult to practice these things if I renounced the world and lived in a cave somewhere. After all, it's relatively easy to feel tranquil when meditating in a quiet room with no distractions. The real challenge is carrying that feeling into everyday life, even onto a crowded dance floor.

My spiritual life doesn't have to end the moment the music begins.