How to Spot a Spiritual Bypasser (and Why They Might Be You)

You know you’ve met a spiritual bypasser when they greet you with a grin so wide it could swallow your shadow whole. Their mantra? “Love and light, darling!”—preferably while ignoring the flaming dumpster fire of unprocessed grief parked behind their third eye.

Before you go pointing fingers, though—grab a mirror. We’ve all done it. Yes, even Eagle Eye (though he’d deny it with the dignity of an owl in a tie-dye poncho). And let’s not forget Moonfeather and He Who Grunts at Dawn—two of my favourite cautionary tales who prove that bypassing can happen even if you’re holding a crystal in one hand and a feather in the other.

So let’s dive headfirst into this compost heap of spiritual avoidance—bring your sense of humour and a shovel. Trust me, you’re gonna need both.

The Bypass Parade: When “Love and Light” Becomes “Run and Hide”

Picture this: we’re sitting in circle, candles flickering, drumming softly in the background. Moonfeather’s got that beatific smile on his face, chanting, “All is love, all is light,” like a New Age bobblehead, while his unspoken rage is leaking out like a leaky psychic nappy.

He Who Grunts at Dawn, clutching his battered mug and eyeing Moonfeather like he’s a suspicious wombat: “Mate, you look like you’re about to barf a rainbow. You sure that’s all love in there?”

Moonfeather, voice cracking like a cosmic eggshell: “I’m… I’m just trying to stay positive. You know, forgive and forget.”

Me, with a grin so sharp it could cut through Moonfeather’s chakra necklace: “Moonfeather, your vibe’s about as high as a flat tyre in the desert. Let’s find the mess before it finds you.”

Eagle Eye, perching with a smirk that could outshine a thousand namastes: “Forgiveness without feeling the wound first is like painting over rust. Eventually, it all peels off.”

Pieter, voice like the collective sigh of all the ancestors you’ve been ignoring: “Every time you skip the shadow, the shadow grows teeth—and eventually, it bites.”

Why We All Do It (Even If We Swear We Don’t)

Let’s face it—spiritual bypassing is like the fast-food drive-thru of enlightenment: cheap, quick, and absolutely guaranteed to give you indigestion later. We all want the shortcut to bliss—preferably one with a Spotify playlist and a “Manifest Your Best Life!” sticker.

But bypassing is the spiritual equivalent of spraying air freshener over a rotting bin: it might smell nice for five minutes, but it’s still full of crap underneath.

So ask yourself: Ever slapped “love and light” over pain because it was easier than crying into your cornflakes? Ever forgiven so fast you forgot to actually feel the rage? Ever blamed karma for why you’re stuck in the same relationship loop from hell? Ever used positivity like a suit of armour so you didn’t have to get real? If you said yes to any of the above, congratulations—you’re a bypasser. Welcome to the club; membership is mandatory for all humans.

The Intervention: More ‘Wake Up, Sunshine’ Than ‘Namaste’

Back in circle, Moonfeather’s face was contorting like a constipated emu. He was desperate to skip the messy bits and jump straight to the “I forgive, I love, I’m floating on a cosmic cloud” phase.

He Who Grunts at Dawn, raising one suspicious eyebrow (and one suspicious mug): “Moonfeather, you’re skipping the best part—the part where you actually feel the damn thing. That’s where the magic is, not in your discount incense sticks.”

Moonfeather, voice trembling like a crystal on a rickety shelf: “But I thought being spiritual meant letting go, rising above anger…”

Me, pointing my feather at his chest like I’m bestowing a cosmic wedgie: “No, mate. Being spiritual means diving headfirst into the swamp of your own triggers, dancing with the swamp monster, and coming out the other side covered in mud but finally real.”

Eagle Eye, smirking like he’s got a backstage pass to the cosmic comedy show: “It’s in the compost heap of your pain that the richest medicine grows. And trust me, compost doesn’t smell like roses.”

Pieter, voice as steady as the wind that’s about to blow your cover: “And sometimes you’ve gotta let that compost rot a bit. Spirit’s not a microwave dinner—this takes time.”

Moonfeather’s tears came. Then the rage. Then the laughter. And wouldn’t you know it—his vibe actually did shift—because he finally faced the real, not just the shiny.

So—Could It Be You?

If you’ve ever said, “I’m too evolved for anger,” or “I don’t judge anyone,” or “I just want to send them love,” while simultaneously imagining them tripping over their own spiritual ego—guess what? You’re on the bypass express, sweetheart.

The cure? Grab your drum, your journal, and your sense of humour—and dive into the compost. Call in your guides—especially the ones who give you the side-eye—and let them hold the mirror.

Spirit didn’t put you here to skip the messy bits. It put you here to compost them into gold.

So next time you find yourself sprinkling “love and light” on top of your unprocessed grief, ask yourself: “Am I actually growing love—or just avoiding the smell?”

And if you need help, come find us. Eagle Eye’s got the medicine, Pieter’s got the wisdom, and He Who Grunts at Dawn’s got… well, at least one half-decent mug of coffee and a well-timed grunt.

Ready to compost your bypass and grow some real medicine?

👉 Join our circles www.living5d3d.com for shadow work, breathwork, and soul excavation that’s more ‘Wake up, Sunshine’ than ‘Namaste.’

🪶 Stay real, stay raw, and remember—no one’s getting out of this incarnation squeaky clean.