“Awakening isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about finally listening to the parts of yourself you’ve ignored for years and choosing to rise from a place of love instead of fear.”
In a world overwhelmed by noise, polarization, and constant digital stimulation, finding authentic spiritual grounding has become more essential—and more challenging—than ever. Few voices navigate that intersection more boldly than Elias Marty, host of the podcast Politically High Tech. While known for dissecting politics, culture, and technology with sharp insight and unapologetic honesty, Elias has recently stepped into a deeper realm: the raw, unfiltered, and transformative territory of spiritual awakening. His journey is not theoretical—it is lived, felt, and powerfully human. Anchored by personal experiences with depression, identity loss, emotional suppression, and the search for inner truth, Elias brings a refreshing authenticity rarely found in public discourse.
This interview explores that journey in depth. From inner-child healing and the dangers of toxic positivity to spiritual fatigue, masculine vulnerability, and even the energetic intuition of cats, Elias shares with striking clarity what awakening looks like in real time—not glamorous, not linear, but profoundly illuminating. His perspective blends discernment, humor, vulnerability, and faith, offering readers a grounded, relatable view of what it means to peel back old identities and embrace a more conscious, spiritually aligned life. This is not just a conversation about spirituality—it is a conversation about humanity, courage, and the freedom that comes from truly knowing yourself.
Thank you so much for joining us, Elias! Our readers would love to get to know you a bit better. Can you tell us a bit about your backstory?
Everything started in a place most people don’t talk about openly—depression, confusion, and a deep disconnect from who I thought I was supposed to be. For nearly two years, I walked around feeling like my identity was dissolving. Inside, my mind felt like a battlefield where negative and positive thoughts fought for control. I wasn’t grounded. I wasn’t connected. I didn’t know who I was. Eventually, I realized I couldn’t continue living with only my “logical mind” steering the ship. That realization pushed me toward spirituality—not as an escape, but as a lifeline. I began practicing affirmations, reading spiritual texts, meditating, challenging my thoughts. And that’s when I discovered that life with spirituality feels like life with oxygen. Life without it? It’s suffocating.
Your podcast, “Politically High Tech,” is known for politics and tech. What opened the door for spirituality to come into your work?
Honestly, spirituality walked in on its own. As I studied politics and technology, I kept seeing the same thing beneath every debate: wounded people trying to navigate a wounded world. You can’t talk about society without acknowledging that individuals are hurting. So instead of skirting around it, I started engaging with it. I realized spirituality didn’t take me away from political or cultural analysis—it sharpened it. It helped me discern, stay grounded, and approach topics from a deeper, more humane perspective. I’m not afraid to question systems, beliefs, or my own assumptions. Spirituality helps me do that without losing myself in the noise.
You’ve spoken about going through depression earlier in your life. How did those experiences shape the spiritual journey you’re on today?
Depression was the wake-up call I didn’t ask for but absolutely needed. When you’re depressed, you’re forced into a quiet place where you have no choice but to confront yourself. I learned the hard way that achievement, discipline, and “being strong” don’t matter if your soul is malnourished. That period taught me that emotions can’t be shoved down like unwanted mail. They will leak out through your health, relationships, and behavior. Spirituality showed me that pain isn’t a punishment—it’s a message. And when you listen to the message instead of running from it, the entire experience becomes transformative.
What does healing your inner child look like for you right now?
Right now, it looks like acknowledging that for years, I abandoned myself. My inner child was neglected because I stayed locked in “mission mode”—keep the peace, get things done, act like everything’s fine. Meanwhile, my inner child was screaming, crying, begging to be acknowledged. The anger outbursts, the irritability, the emotional shutdowns—those weren’t failures. They were signals. So I began visualizing myself holding that child, apologizing to him, comforting him. I let myself cry for the first time in years. Healing him means listening, not silencing. Defending him, not dismissing him. And choosing to treat myself with compassion even when the adult part of me wants to push through everything like a machine.
Many people today say they feel exhausted even when life seems “normal.” How do you interpret that kind of fatigue?
That kind of fatigue is spiritual, not physical. I’ve been living it myself—sleeping fine, eating well, doing everything “right,” and still feeling heavy and drained. That’s what transformation feels like. Awakening takes energy. Shedding an identity takes energy. Letting go of attachments takes energy. Our society has conditioned us to hustle, grind, push until we break, and spiritually speaking, that conditioning is poison. Fatigue is often your soul yanking on your sleeve saying, “Slow down. I’m rearranging things in here.” It’s not failure—it’s recalibration.
You’ve talked a lot about unlearning. Why is unlearning often harder than learning?
Because learning adds something to your identity. Unlearning removes something. And humans cling to whatever feels familiar—even when it hurts. I had to unlearn the belief that hustling equals worth. I had to unlearn suppressing emotions because it looked more “adult.” I had to unlearn old habits like doom-scrolling news for hours, thinking I had to stay hyper-informed or else I’d fall behind. Unlearning is painful because you’re breaking a contract with your past self. But the truth is, familiarity is not the same as alignment. And the sooner we accept that, the freer we become.
How do you distinguish genuine spirituality from toxic positivity?
Toxic positivity is basically denial wearing a smile. It’s the person who tells you “just be happy” when your world is collapsing. It’s dismissive, shallow, and frankly, disrespectful. Spirituality, on the other hand, is grounded. It sees the darkness, acknowledges the struggle, and still chooses love—not because it’s convenient, but because it’s powerful. A spiritually grounded person listens deeply. They don’t belittle your pain or rush you into pretending everything’s fine. They help you move through the pain with awareness, compassion, and truth.
Do you believe every painful experience carries a lesson?
Yes, absolutely—though I don’t think the lesson arrives immediately. Some lessons take months or years to reveal themselves. But the key is allowing yourself to feel what you’re feeling first. If you slam the door shut on your sadness, anger, confusion, or heartbreak, the lesson gets trapped behind that door too. Spiritual growth can’t happen if you’re emotionally constipated. I’ve had to learn to let emotions move through me instead of trying to outrun them. Only then can the lesson rise to the surface.
You focus a lot on reducing “junk”—mental, digital, emotional. Why is that so important for spiritual clarity?
Because clarity requires space. If your brain is Grand Central Station—20 thoughts arriving and departing at once, constant scrolling, constant noise—you can’t hear your intuition. I had to drastically reduce negative media, chaotic content, and draining relationships. We waste hours getting sucked into feeds, news cycles, and online arguments that do nothing but feed anxiety. Cutting all that junk was like clearing a fog. When you stop feeding your mind garbage, your spirit finally gets a chance to breathe.
What role does community play in spiritual growth for you?
Community is non-negotiable. I tried isolating myself for two years and it was one of the darkest periods of my life. We’re wired for connection. We need belonging, reflection, and support. Spirituality doesn’t mean becoming a hermit in the mountains. Nor does “non-attachment” mean “no relationships.” Community keeps you grounded, accountable, and sane. Without it, people spiral into fear, paranoia, and distrust. A healthy community accelerates awakening. Isolation, on the other hand, can suffocate it.
You’ve mentioned that too many choices can actually paralyze us. How has simplifying your life helped your spiritual path?
Simplification gave me my mind back. I used to believe more choices meant more freedom—until I was standing in a tea shop with over a hundred flavors, unable to decide for two hours. That’s when it hit me: too many options create chaos. The same applies to life. We have an overload of content, relationships, decisions, and distractions. When I began reducing the noise—owning fewer things, limiting news, prioritizing what truly mattered—I became calmer, clearer, and more intuitive. Minimalism isn’t about lack. It’s about liberation.
Western masculinity often discourages emotional openness. How is your spiritual journey reshaping your view of masculinity?
Masculinity, for me, is evolving into something much more balanced. I want to be strong, yes—but also gentle, compassionate, and emotionally present. Many men fear vulnerability because they’ve been conditioned to see love or tenderness as weakness. I no longer buy into that. I want to embrace being a loving warrior—someone who can be soft without feeling ashamed and firm without being harsh. Spirituality is teaching me that strength without love becomes aggression, and love without strength becomes collapse. The balance is the goal.
You’ve been open about acknowledging dark forces without living in fear. How do you navigate that balance?
By being realistic without becoming obsessive. Denying darkness is naïve, but glorifying it is dangerous. I acknowledge that dark forces exist—energetically, spiritually, psychologically. But I choose not to let them dominate my mind. Awareness is power. Fear is bondage. When negativity shows up, I don’t battle it with rage or panic. I approach it with authority, calmness, and—believe it or not—love. Darkness can’t thrive where light is present. You don’t defeat darkness by ignoring it or fearing it. You transcend it by rising above its vibration.
You often joke that you’re “team cat.” What do cats represent to you spiritually?
Cats are spiritual teachers in fur coats. They’re intuitive, discerning, and unapologetic about their boundaries. People say my personality is similar: I choose my connections carefully, and if something violates my peace, I quietly walk away. Cats understand energy. They show affection differently but deeply. They protect, they observe, they feel. And spiritually, I think they remind us to stay grounded, aware, and confident in our worth. Plus, they’re hilarious.
For someone just beginning their awakening and feeling lost or scared, what wisdom would you offer them?
I’d tell them to breathe and pace themselves. Awakening feels like everything is falling apart because, in a way, it is—the old patterns are dissolving. But nothing “wrong” is happening. Fatigue, confusion, emotional waves—these are all signs of inner reconstruction. Lean into rest. Reduce noise. Stop chasing perfection. Trust the process even when it doesn’t make sense. And remember: discomfort is not danger. It’s transformation.
Looking ahead, where do you hope your spiritual journey leads you in the next few years?
I hope it leads me into deeper peace, deeper trust, and deeper authenticity. I want a calmer mind, a steadier heart, and a stronger connection to God. I want to embody love without self-consciousness and strength without aggression. If I can become a more grounded, compassionate, spiritually aligned version of myself—a true loving warrior—that will be enough. I don’t need to know the full destination. I just need to keep walking.
How can our readers further follow your work online?
You can find my podcast, Politically High Tech, on Buzzsprout, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, and Rumble. If you’re into the more unfiltered, uncensored conversations, Rumble is a great option. I’m also on Twitter, Facebook, and expanding onto Instagram and BlueSky. Just search my name—Elias Marty—and you’ll find all my platforms. I’d love to connect with anyone who’s walking their own awakening path.
Elias, this has been a powerful and illuminating conversation. Thank you for your honesty, your insight, and for sharing so much of yourself today.
Thank you, Stacey. Your questions were thoughtful, your energy was grounding, and this space felt safe for real conversation. I appreciate you, and I look forward to continuing this journey in future episodes.
