Guru-culture is dead

Gone are the days when we bowed down to self-appointed saviors who promised to light our path, charging us money to secretly extinguish our inner flames.
We are so over that because guru-culture is dead, and we are deliriously in love with ourselves now.

The seductive pull of a guru– the siren song for the soul.
For the price of a monthly membership or a ticket to the show, they promise enlightenment,
a one-way ticket to nirvana,
a roadmap to guaranteed million-dollar months,
eternal youth,
a solution to every bit of life’s chaos –
but we don’t need that anymore. We kind of love our drama and our rollercoaster learning curves.
Guru-culture is dead, and we are deliriously in love with ourselves now.

We used to love to worship at the altar of Hay House false prophets or picture-perfect know-it-alls in stiletto heels.
We used to be conditioned to seek validation, guidance, and a sense of belonging from someone with a massive social media machine, making us ripe for the picking by outlet mall sages.
We put their wisdom on our credit cards, but it cost us more than the interest.
Their approval was a golden cage, their doctrine a velvet shackle –
but are grown-up and over it.
Guru-culture is dead, and we are deliriously in love with ourselves now.

We aren’t buying our self-worth by contorting ourselves into mini-me versions of strong personalities with no soul.
We aren’t outsourcing our intuition to experts who magically make money by teaching other people to magically make money.
We aren’t looking for salvation in the arms of fake-demi-gods who promise peace for a pound of flesh.
We are happy without them.
We don’t remember their names anymore.
We don’t need fixing.
We are spending our money on girls trips and pottery classes.
Guru-culture is dead, and we are deliriously in love with ourselves now.