I hate the spiritual path

...and why you would too

I hate the spiritual path because there is an ultimate authority and it’s not me. You can call it God, the divine, universe, reality, life. The name doesn’t change how it operates. It doesn’t respond to what you want, what you think you deserve, or what you’ve worked for. It acts on its own will and doesn’t follow your expectations. It doesn’t reward effort in the way you’ve been taught to expect. What stays and goes from your life doesn’t answer to you, which would have been useful to know earlier before committing to this path.

I hate the spiritual path because it destroys the illusion that you get to keep what you’ve materially earned. The whole idea that doing it right leads to wealth or stability is a comforting fiction. You can be stripped of your income, stability, and the privileges you worked hard to attain without a performance review.

I hate the spiritual path because the moment I step out of line, I experience the consequences. I can’t pretend I didn’t know better and or my actions were guided by misunderstanding. There’s no delay or way to deflect responsibility. I know exactly what I’m doing and I can’t proceed as if I don’t because that would be too easy.

I hate the spiritual path because once you see it, the alternative is no longer available. To go back would mean ignoring what you now recognise in your own behaviour and continuing anyway. It means saying things you know are not true and staying in situations that require a fake version of you. Self-betrayal stings once you’ve seen it clearly, and it doesn’t stop.

I hate the spiritual path because it strips you of borrowed authority. Titles, roles, affiliations, and proximity to people or institutions that once gave you legitimacy stop working. You stop assuming that authority is protective or fair and see how quickly it shifts when something is at stake. It dismantles the belief that doing the right thing will protect you. You can follow the rules the way you always have and still lose your role, status, access, and reputation.

I hate the spiritual path because what remains after everything is stripped is far from reassuring. There’s no new identity to replace the old one. There’s no title, no affiliation, no structure to rely on. What’s left is your judgement in real situations and the results of the decisions you make. Nothing else supports it.

I hate the spiritual path because there is no external feedback. No one can tell you you’re doing well or that you’re on track. There’s no recognition, reward, or signal that you’ve made the right move and whatever you think is that signal is an interpretation. Nothing confirms you’re on track. You can’t lose yourself in achievement or build an identity around being good, helpful, successful, or right. All you have are principles and disciplined practice to work with and trust that they’re enough.

I hate the spiritual path because good intentions aren’t enough. I think I’m acting in my own best interest or handling a situation properly until I see that the decision was driven by a need for validation or control rather than surrender to something more reliable than my own preferences.

I hate the spiritual path because it exposes patterns that don’t change until I do. It doesn’t care what I say I am. It reflects what I actually am, and if those don’t match, I sense it. What I avoid returns with more pressure. What I justify becomes harder to justify. What I ignore becomes confronting. The intensity increases until I either change my response or accept the consequences of repeating it.

I hate the spiritual path because you can’t blame the system anymore. You see how that deflects responsibility away from behaviour. You see how repeated actions, including your own, produce outcomes that are unavoidable. You have to keep agency and responsibility at the forefront. You start to see how ideology is used to justify behaviour rather than correct it.

I hate the spiritual path because you can’t choose when you see yourself clearly. It shows you at the worst possible time, in specific moments, through specific behaviours, in things you said and things you justified. It becomes an endless cringefest that you have to endure.

I hate the spiritual path because it forces you into discernment whether you want it or not. You realise how much of what you were chasing was about feeling special and important, and how quickly you feel special when you get it, and how little that actually means. You realise how often you abandoned your own discernment to stay in good standing, to avoid conflict, or to avoid loss, and you can’t unsee it once you see it.

I hate the spiritual path because you can’t outsource it. No teacher, framework, or language can protect you. At some point, it’s just you and your choices.

I hate the spiritual path because you see narcissistic behaviour more clearly, in yourself and in other people. You see how people act to secure status, protection, and significance, and you can’t participate in those games anymore. You have to navigate it without using the same tactics to control perception or restore superiority.

I hate the spiritual path because people try to turn it into a system they can sell. They package it into steps and formulas as if they have worked out how it operates. Gurupreneurs act as if alignment produces predictable outcomes, as if thinking, feeling, and acting the Right Way™ will give you the life you want. This gives people the impression that if it is not working, they are doing it wrong, rather than recognising that the path itself does not operate on preference or outcome. It can’t be standardised, which is annoying when you want to succeed and attain enlightenment. The moment it becomes a formula, it’s a performance. The more you try to control it, the further you move from it. Some people reflect your own longing back to you in a way that feels like insight but doesn’t change anything.

I hate the spiritual path because you realise not everything that looks like a path is one. A cult and a spiritual path are not the same thing, and your devotion can be the right action in the wrong place, or the wrong action. You see how easily authority can be mimicked, how easily you can attach to something that looks meaningful, and how long it can take to recognise that you’ve misplaced your trust without letting wounded pride convince you that a real spiritual path should be easy.

I hate the spiritual path because peace doesn’t come the way you expect. It’s not something you get and keep. It comes when you stop forcing things, and it goes when you try to control what isn’t yours to control. You can experience it, lose it, and realise how quickly you return to urgency. I hate that you have to choose between peace and the things you think will give you peace, like the roles, the income, and what you built your life around.

I hate the spiritual path because you can’t use it to justify leaving people who don’t meet your expectations. You see how quickly that turns into a fantasy where other people are the problem and you’re the one Doing The Work™. You see how easy it is to devalue stability and what’s good enough because it doesn’t match the fantasy you believe you deserve. You can no longer position yourself as more aware and use that to distance yourself from people who haven’t changed in the way you expect. You’re not shaping other people to match your ideal. It sucks because you have to get over your resentment and develop compassion, when resentment and contempt are more satisfying.

I hate the spiritual path because you don’t end up on it by accident. You end up here because what you were told would work didn’t, or because it worked but it felt off. You wanted something real and you get it, but not alongside the things you used to feel secure, like the title, the income, the recognition, the identity you built, and the relationships that depended on that version of you. You can’t to keep all of that and follow this at the same time.

I hate the spiritual path because I stop caring about smashing glass ceilings, getting a seat at the table, or getting more women into leadership positions. I can see exactly why I wanted those things, and that path wasn’t as principled as I made it sound. Attaining success is easy in comparison because you follow rules and you get validation and recognition. This path doesn’t work like that, and I can’t pretend those motivations were anything else.

This is a path that only allows truth and requires ongoing trust in something I don’t control and can’t map out in advance. There’s no standard to meet and no confirmation I’m doing it right. It’s difficult and wonderful.

I hate the spiritual path but it’s the only path I’ll follow in this lifetime.

Photo by Le Vu on Unsplash

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Hacking Narcissism is for people trying to make sense of and effectively navigate a morally distorting and chaotic age. When moral development is disincentivised, people lose reliable reference points for discernment and struggle to distinguish between what’s real, what’s performative, and what’s covertly shaping their perception.

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