What is enlightenment?
It’s a word we hear often—in spiritual talks, in books, even in casual conversation. And at its heart is a simple image: light.
When we say, “The light dawned,” or “She threw light on the matter,” we’re speaking in metaphors—but ones that point to something deeper. Light shows us the way. It brings clarity. Without it, we grope in the dark—confused, uncertain, lost.
It’s no coincidence that light also has real, physical effects. Sunlight nourishes our bodies with vitamin D. It lifts the spirits of those living through the winter blues of seasonal affective disorder. Studies even suggest it nudges us towards generosity—people give bigger tips in well-lit cafés. Remarkable, really.
The appearance of a being of light is a common finding amongst those having ‘the near-death experience’ and research has found that mystical experience commonly contains the experience of being bathed in light.
And light, of course, runs deep in the world’s religions.
In Hindu texts Krishna and Vishnu reveal themselves in flashes of dazzling light. The appearance of a succession of mystical coloured lights marks the stages of progression towards illumination in the yogic tradition.
Light is a recurring theme in the Christian gospels. In a vision, his followers said they saw Christ’s face shine like the sun and his clothes become white as light. The divine apparently was flowing strongly into him on that occasion.
In Buddhism, Amida—the Buddha of Infinite Light—is the radiant presence of ultimate reality. From Taoism to Judaism, to Islamism—light is the great spiritual metaphor.
So what, then, is enlightenment?
Perhaps it’s not just learning, but seeing differently.
One idea suggests that even our surface-level beliefs can contain deeper truths within them—like seeds waiting for light. Consider the notion of God as a stern judge, rewarding good and punishing bad. To a childlike mind, this feels appropriate. But enlightenment brings a deeper understanding: that the consequences of our actions are built into their very nature—that our spiritual state is woven into what we choose, and who we become.
The Swiss psychologist Carl Jung shared a story that speaks to this deeper perception. A patient of his had dreamt of a golden scarab—an image rich in symbolism. While recounting this to Jung, there was a faint tapping on the window. He turned and, astonishingly, found a scarabaeid beetle—the closest match to a golden scarab in nature. He caught it, handed it to her, and simply said, “Here is your scarab.”
The patient, until then closed off emotionally, was deeply moved. Something shifted.
Jung called this synchronicity—a meaningful coincidence that seems to defy ordinary explanation. He believed it was a moment when inner and outer worlds briefly aligned.
Emanuel Swedenborg, the 18th-century spiritual philosopher, offer us the idea that Divine Providence gently arranges the strands of our lives—quietly, subtly—always tending to our deepest needs. Often, we don’t see the pattern until later. But when we do, it’s as though a light has come on inside us. This is a philosophical idea. But we can see the idea light up if we realise how we’ve been personally guided, and inwardly nurtured—how even our mistakes have led to growth. We begin to trust, not in our own cleverness, but in something greater—a stream of providence, as Swedenborg called it. We are carried along, not aimlessly, but with purpose.
But how do we see this? Not with our physical eyes, perhaps—but with the inner eye.
Just as we have sight, we also have insight. Materialist science has its limits here. It can analyse behaviour, brain states, and biology—but it cannot weigh compassion, or measure the origin of beauty, or detect the source of kindness. These things aren’t absent—they’re just not visible under a microscope.
We humans have a remarkable capacity for abstraction—for imagining, pondering, reflecting. We read sacred texts, hear stories from parents and teachers, consider moral questions, and sense, intuitively, that something more is at play.
But information alone is not enlightenment. It’s only the beginning.
True understanding—real spiritual perception—requires something more. A light from within. Not just hearing what others say, but recognising truth inwardly. Not a lecture, but a moment of recognition.
Spiritual teachers, philosophers, mystics—yes, they can point the way. But enlightenment must be felt, not just thought. It is the shift from listening to knowing, from seeing to understanding. Spiritual knowledge and awareness are merely the beginning of wisdom.
Copyright 2025 Stephen Russell-Lacy
Author of The Great Questions of Life
