Writing about this feels… uncomfortable.
Not because I don’t have an opinion.
But because, whether I like it or not, I’m part of this world.
I offer sessions.
I charge money for my work.
I have a website.
You’re reading words that, in one way or another, introduce you to what I do.
So I’m not writing from outside the industry.
I’m writing from within it.
Which makes this conversation both necessary…
…and a little awkward.
Because somewhere along the way, I started wondering when personal growth quietly became a marketplace.
There are retreats.
Trainings.
Certifications.
Masterclasses.
Mentorships.
Online courses.
Teacher trainings.
VIP experiences.
Private communities.
Premium memberships.
Sometimes I catch myself wondering:
When did awakening become something we package, brand and sell?
Perhaps it always was.
Perhaps I’m simply noticing it more.
The Problem Isn’t Money
To be clear…
I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with charging money for meaningful work.
Therapists do.
Doctors do.
Teachers do.
And I do.
Time, experience, years of learning, and genuine dedication deserve to be valued.
That’s not what troubles me.
What troubles me is something much more subtle.
The suggestion that the next purchase might finally bring us closer to ourselves.
Another workshop.
Another method.
Another ceremony.
Another certification.
Another promise.
As if peace is always one payment away.
Why We’re So Drawn to Answers
And here’s the uncomfortable part.
I don’t think this is driven only by the people offering the services.
Nor do I think it’s driven only by the people seeking them.
I think it’s simply part of being human.
Sometimes life hurts.
Sometimes we’re exhausted.
Sometimes uncertainty becomes almost unbearable.
And in those moments…
Who wouldn’t want someone else to know the way?
There is another reason I wanted to write about this.
Not because I believe I’ve figured it out.
Quite the opposite.
I need this reminder as much as anyone.
There are days when I’m tired.
Days when life feels heavier than usual.
Days when I catch myself wishing someone else would simply make the decisions for me.
Someone wiser.
Someone who seems more certain.
Someone who could wave a magic wand and make everything fall into place.
I’m human.
Just like everyone else.
The Responsibility of Being Trusted
Working with people is an extraordinary privilege.
It’s also an extraordinary responsibility.
People don’t only bring us their stories.
Sometimes they bring us their uncertainty.
Their fear.
Their hope.
Occasionally, they bring us something even more precious.
Their sovereignty.
Not intentionally.
Not consciously.
But because when we’re hurting, it’s incredibly tempting to place our lives in the hands of someone who seems to know.
I’ve felt that temptation myself.
Which is why I keep reminding myself that I’m not here to become the authority in someone else’s life.
I’m here to hold a safe and supportive space for one’s journey to reconnect with their inner authority.
When Life Becomes a Recipe
I also find myself paying more attention to the language we use.
We love “how-to” guides.
How to heal.
How to let go.
How to manifest.
How to awaken.
How to find your purpose.
Perhaps they’re useful.
Sometimes they genuinely are.
But I also wonder whether life is a little too mysterious to fit into recipes.
There are moments when our work begins to sound like cooking instructions.
Add one retreat.
Two ceremonies.
Three mindset shifts.
A daily gratitude practice.
Stir gently.
Serve with abundance.
I smile as I write this.
Because I understand the appeal.
I understand the comfort of believing that if we just find the right method…
Everything will finally fall into place.
Sometimes it does.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
Perhaps that’s exactly what makes this work so delicate.
We work with human beings.
Not formulas.
Not guarantees.
Not recipes.
People.
Trying to find their way through a life that refuses to follow instructions.
Staying Curious
I don’t have a conclusion.
Only a quiet promise I hope I’ll keep making to myself throughout this journey.
To stay curious.
To speak honestly.
To resist the temptation of certainty.
To be careful with promises.
To remember that every person sitting across from me is the foremost expert on their own life.
And to never forget that no matter how much I learn…
I’m still learning too.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
With curiosity and an open heart.
