Listen while you workout, cook, or commute.
I flew to Mexico to meet a spiritual teacher I’d found through a strange Google search. I was bored, seeking, and testing whether I could take a leap of faith into something I didn’t fully understand. What I found wasn’t what I expected—but it taught me more about myself than any “legitimate” teacher ever had.
The event turned out to be five people in a messy apartment. The guru was in his underwear when I arrived. A girl was still sleeping on the fold-out bed. This was not the conference room with donut breaks I’d imagined.
But I’d decided to surrender to the experience—to treat everything as a mirror teacher, regardless of whether the content was “real.”
The Improv Game of New Age Spirituality
During the ceremony, something interesting happened. The energy work was real—I could feel heat, intensity, my nervous system responding to something. But I couldn’t see the grids everyone else claimed to see. I couldn’t remember the past life on the spaceship we’d supposedly shared.
What I noticed instead was a game of improv. In improv, the rule is “yes, and”—whatever someone says, you affirm it and add to it. That’s exactly what was happening. Someone would share an experience, the guru would affirm it, and in return they’d affirm his experience. A feedback loop where everyone convinced each other that the fantasy was real.
When the wizard claimed Draco entities were coming through a portal at the bar across the street—when he wrapped tinfoil around his head and swung an imaginary sword—everyone nodded along. When he said we needed to eat quail eggs to unlock our ship memories, people immediately started “remembering” being on the ship together.
I couldn’t remember anything. I felt stupid. But I also noticed: everyone in that room seemed lonely, seeking something to work for them, needing to believe.
That was me too. That’s why I was there.
Why People Lie About Feeling the Energy
I’ve seen this dynamic in dozens of new age spirituality events since. Someone does energy work on you and asks, “Can you feel it?” Nobody wants to be the one who can’t feel it. So people say yes when they mean no. They leave with buyer’s remorse, resentment, a vague sense of having been played—but also of having played themselves.
The honest answer changes everything. When you say “No, I can’t feel it,” one of two things happens. If they’re a real teacher, they’ll help you work through the block. If they’re making it up, that becomes apparent too. Either way, you learn something true.
The improv game only works when everyone plays along.
Energy Buzzing vs. Emotional Processing
Here’s what I’ve learned since Mexico: that energy buzzing I felt—the heat, the intensity, the pressure in my head—was real. But it wasn’t necessarily what the guru said it was.
Almost always, energy buzzing in my body is a signal that there’s something I’m not feeling emotionally. I’m trying to deal with everything at the energetic layer without integrating it into the emotional layer.
It’s like putting your toe in a light socket. Yes, there’s electricity there. Pretty cool, right? But until you can actually utilize that energy—until you can translate it into something that creates results in physical reality—it’s just a parlor trick. A way of shocking yourself without transforming anything.
New age spirituality often gets stuck at the light socket stage. Lots of buzzing, lots of experiences, very little actualization.
The Mirror That Showed Me Myself
Years later, the wizard launched a course on God and money. I bought it—partly because even fantasy novels contain truth, partly because I was curious how far the improv could go. He never finished the course. His excuse? He was doing draining work in the astral realm and needed our support for that instead.
Everyone who’d paid said “yes, and.”
But here’s the thing: I got value anyway. Not from the content—from the mirror. Why do I keep putting myself in situations where people pretend to be something they’re not? What am I seeking that keeps drawing me to these experiences? What part of me needs the fantasy to be real?
Those questions were worth more than any grid work or past-life memory could have been.
What New Age Spirituality Actually Offers
I’m not here to dismiss all of it. The hunger behind new age spirituality is completely valid—the desire for meaning, transcendence, connection with something beyond the material. The energy experiences are often real, even if the interpretations are fantasy.
But I’ve learned to approach it differently now. I fully immerse in concepts, glean the golden nuggets, and discard what doesn’t serve me. I try on practices without getting hooked into them. I don’t develop codependency with any spiritual framework.
And I ask myself: Am I feeling this in my body, or am I saying “yes, and” because I don’t want to be the one who doesn’t feel it?
This is the lens the Bible is meant to be read through.
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The wizard in Mexico wasn’t a fraud or a guru. He was a mirror—showing me my own loneliness, my own need to believe, my own tendency to seek validation in fantasy rather than doing the emotional work of processing what’s actually happening in my life.
That’s the real offering of new age spirituality: not the content, but the mirror. If you’re willing to look honestly at what drew you there, you’ll learn exactly what you need to know.