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Review: The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman

The Next Right Thing: A Simple, Soulful Practice for Making Life Decisions

I haven’t read author Emily P. Freeman’s other books, nor listened to the podcast by the same name for which this book is titled. I have been a longtime subscriber to her monthly e-mail newsletter, though, and I always appreciate the ways she shares her world so generously. I received a copy of her latest book, The Next Right Thing (TNRT) through her publisher, Revell, in exchange for my honest review.

I’m leading purposefully with the most superficial aspect of TNRT because aesthetic matters to me, particularly in the Christian publishing realm where it seems if you’re a female author, your book cover MUST have some picture of a delicate flower with a watercolor script. I adore Freeman’s choice of a monochromatic, sans-serif design for the cover. It’s a refreshing departure from the others in this category lining the shelves, and sets the stage for what is a refreshing read in general.

I am not usually drawn to books about making decisions because I thought, before reading TNRT, that I had no trouble making them. I’m not usually risk-averse and overthinking my next moves is rarely a hindrance to my day. But from the outset of TNRT, I learned that this does not a sound decision maker make. In fact, on page 14, Freeman puts me on blast: “Maybe you have an aversion to making decisions so you either delegate them, avoid them, or make them too quickly just to get them settled.” Bing bing bing. I’ve been hot potato handling my choices my whole life. I hate deliberations, so I just pull a straw and stick with it and hope I can drink out of it for as long as I need. It’s what has worked. Or I thought it had. TNRT showed me a better way. Better ways, to be sure, because what TNRT does best is come alongside the reader to examine the different facets of his/her life and see what areas need the most support and discernment and so much grace.

My favorite chapters were 8, “Know What You Want More” and 10 “Quit Something” because the ideas were the most applicable for me and I thought the writing was strongest. TNRT unpacks ideas in a way that is easy to visualize and understand, often with Freeman confessing her own shortcomings and stumbling blocks to disarm the reader from thinking this is a perfectionist’s formula. There are prayers and practices that bookend each chapter and they are thoughtfully written and I’m sure will be revisited as the ideas trade relevance in years to come.

Now that I think about it, going back to the cover again, the black and white is also unisex, and I think the messaging here is, too. Freeman does a good job of incorporating voices from women and men throughout the book. I’m not sure whether a diversity of voices is represented in terms of culture and race, but Freeman is aware when her own privilege needs to be acknowledged and I find the spirit in which she writes quite equitable. Her advice presumes that a person making big or small decisions already has some measure of agency in his/her life. Being a good steward of one’s privilege — time, resources, connections, talents — is foundational to the message of TNRT. It has definitely impressed upon me that making good decisions is a sort of act of worship in itself.

Who are these “Spiritual Gangsters” on the prowl?

The “Spiritual Gangster” athleisure brand caught my attention, as it was created to do.

I first saw the Spiritual Gangster apparel as a walking advertisement worn by the women, most of them white, at the yoga studios I frequent. Apparently, Deepak Chopra also proclaims himself a Spiritual Gangster, along with celebrities such as Gwen Stefani and Katherine Schwarzenegger. There really seemed to be a great spectrum of folks who were a self-proclaimed part of this spiritual gang.

Yet, spiritual people, it would seem, do not need to announce it.

And gangsters, it would seem, would not be interested in yoga.

What was I missing? Further, what does it mean to be a wearer of the SG swag, to proclaim the so-called gospel of gangster threads?

Spiritual Gangster Holdings, Inc. is a private company, founded by yoga enthusiasts. The company purports to be a “a gang of spiritual people who want to make a difference.” They consider themselves spiritual in their dedication to the practice of yoga, and their behavior of banding together to support philanthropic causes, such as Feed the Hungry, from which a portion of their athleisure proceeds are donated, is where the gangster piece derives. 

So, as I distill it, the brand is about being a gang united by yoga and philanthropy. In effect, they are seeking to flip the script on “gangster” and what an intimidating band of people hellbent on a cause can do--for good.

“Spiritual Gangster,” as monikers go, is an oxymoron. To be spiritual can be manifested - or not - in a myriad of ways, most of them peaceful (though I’m sure plenty of jihadists consider themselves deeply spiritual). To be a gangster, in my view, though, commands some measure of perilous arrogance, whether one simply hails from a a rough and tumble territory, or truly makes her business preying upon the lives of those deemed enemies.

As a yogi, I like a good pair of yoga pants that keep my organs from spilling out of place when I’m in downfacing dog. I’m not particular about brands with yoga; I sweat all over them anyway. But the Spiritual Gangster brand continues to give me pause, long after I found out that they sell a $98 sports bra. Because I’m not sure if I’m bold enough in either of my practices -- yoga or do-gooding; spirituality or philanthropy; inwardness and togetherness -- to make the kind of statement that this athleisure wearers everywhere are making.

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Perhaps it’s hubris that I lack, or perhaps it’s humility that I want to attain, but I feel both admiration and envy at the yoga gangsters who aren’t afraid to say who they are, of what they strive to be a part.

I think upon the times when Jesus told witnesses to his miracles not to tell anyone what they had seen. But, almost in the same breath, Jesus tells his apostles to be unapologetic about who they are and if any dismiss them, to shake the dust off their feet as they make their swift exit.

Even Peter’s betrayal of Jesus is, at its core, a denial of core identity. Peter denies that he is friends with Jesus. That he was part of his spiritual gang, as it were. 

At the beginning of many a yoga class, the teacher will tell students to set their intention. For the class, for their day, for their lives. I usually say to myself that I hope I’ll not give up and try to complete the whole class.

The next time I’m on the mat, though, I think I’ll modify my intention, perhaps to be both more spiritual and more gangster. Even if no one can tell.