Confessions of a Fake Guru — Part II
Am I crazy?
I must be insane.
I’m right in the middle of the launch of True Creation Accelerator…
And I decide to hit ‘publish’ on ‘Confessions of a Fake Guru.’
That was not an easy decision.
It was uncomfortable to publish that one last night.
I’m not sure I know of anyone else who would point out a bunch of their own shadows and ego-bullshit right in the middle of a launch.
Maybe Dane Tomas?
Dane’s often super real. That’s why I love him. There are still things he doesn’t wanna look at, though. That’s why I wrote him an open letter a few weeks ago.
II.
Anywho…
I actually love the fact that I published that ultra-raw piece last night.
I love it because no one else would have the balls to do it.
I love myself for being willing to say “fuck it” and go there.
I even went to the extra effort of publishing it on Facebook and IG and sharing it on Twitter and Telegram. Some interesting comments came in on those platforms.
WHY WOULD I DO THAT?!
Just to add some EXTRA SELF-DEFAMATION to my public meltdown?
Just to be sure I sabotage my launch and make sure no one wants to join my course?
Just to ‘get off’ on town-square confessional-ism?
‘Get off’ on giving people a voyeuristic window into my broken psyche?
Yeah, probably that’s part of it.
I do kinda get off on being an attention-whore.
I’ve definitely been greedily slurping up everyone’s comments and ‘likes’ since publishing that post.
That’s not the full story, though.
Writing and publishing that post felt really necessary.
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders after I published it.
Very similar to when I published my radically honest letter on my struggles almost exactly one year ago.
I had to collapse the gap between the online image I project and the truth of what I am.
Any time I manage to really do that, it’s deeply medicinal for me—and for others, it seems.
It’s like I say in a song of mine:
“That naked honesty
In a fake society
Is medicinal”
I try to be nakedly honest all the time.
I’m always aiming to be real.
It’s hard, though.
It’s hard to be *that* honest all the time.
It’s hard not to get caught up in the game of projecting an image of being some kind of wise guru with all the answers.
It’s like that Upton Sinclair quote:
“It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.”
It is difficult to be extremely real, when you feel like your salary depends on people believing in a certain image of who you are.
This is why most coaches and online influencers are so fucking fake most of the time.
They build (multi-million-dollar) businesses based on a lie.
They create (massive) income by getting people to believe that they’re some shiny Chosen One who figured it all out and mastered the game of life.
It’s bullshit.
Yet I sympathize with them, because I know how hard it is to actually shatter the facade.
I know how hard it is to collapse the gap between who people think you are, and who you really are.
It’s terrifying.
And I imagine it only gets harder and harder—and more inwardly corrosive—the longer you live the lie.
When you’re in SUPER deep and you’re like a Tony Robbins who has built an empire around always appearing to be the most badass-superhuman-extraterrestrial Master Of Existence® with giant muscles and a perpetual toothy grin that says, “Oh yeah, I’m *that* guy—that *unreasonably ECSTATIC motherfucker* with the *BOOMingly confident voice* who is always *CRUSHING the game of life*”…
When you’re in *that* deep…
Well, good fucking luck shattering the facade and admitting to the world that you’re just another traumatized infant like everyone else, desperately utilizing whatever mechanisms are available to try to cope with the inherent sorrow and confusion of human life.
We’re *all* that, aren’t we?
We’re all that traumatized infant desperately looking for an adequate replacement for mama’s delicious titty.
Desperately looking for some way to crawl back into the all-comforting warmth of mama’s cozy womb.
Come to think of it, I never met a human who wasn’t broken.
Who wasn’t carrying around some kind of profound despair.
People mask it in all sorts of ways.
They slap on a designer outfit and a forced smile and pretend their diarrhea don’t stink.
But it’s there.
That gnawing ache in the pit of our bellies.
The despair and confusion of being cut off.
Umbilically severed.
It’s probably more severe than ever, in this weird fucking age we’re living in…
But it’s not just modernity.
I suspect it’s inherent in human life.
Any way you slice it, we all come into this world through a massively traumatic process.
We are quite literally ripped from the only all-nourishing womb-home we’ve ever known…
Our umbilical oneness with our mother is quite literally amputated…
We all share this experience.
And this experience alone is a seismic epicenter that sends a shockwave through our entire lives.
Our entire lives, in many ways, are a response to this primordial wound.
An attempt to cope with this pain.
And of course we all get many other traumas stacked on top of this one.
Even the most cushy, fluffy, pampered human life contains tremendous trauma.
No way around it.
It’s part of ‘the rules’ on this plane of God’s mysterious Creation.
No amount of “creating your own reality” is going to change the fact that you were violently squeezed out of mama’s cozy womb-home, umbilically cleaved, and thrust into this wild and perplexing world.
We all carry that karma.
And it hurts.
III.
Thank you.
Thank you for being the warrior that you are.
Thank you for having the courage to keep getting out of bed in the morning and living this human life.
It *is not* fucking easy.
I don’t care how many non-dual flowbois proclaim that they’ve discovered the secret to total effortlessness.
They’re full of shit.
Life is hard.
IV.
It’s funny, I was scared to publish that post last night.
I thought, “Maybe I can just sit on this and publish it after the launch.”
Then I realized, “No, if I do that, I might not end up publishing it. And I know it needs to be shared.”
So I hit ‘publish’ instinctively before I could talk myself out of it.
And I wondered what would happen.
“How many people will unsubscribe?”
“How many people will reject me?”
And, well, some people did unsubscribe.
I’ve lost about ~5,000 subscribers since my list size peaked circa ~2018.
So it’s not really new to me.
A lot of people have been turned off by my plunge into deep mystical weirdness and wildly naked honesty.
And that’s okay. I wish them well.
I’m here to find the ones who want the real me. All of me.
And…
Not everyone unsubscribed.
And no one sent any hate mail (so far).
In fact, ironically…
A wave of dozens of ‘likes’ and positive responses has washed into my inbox and social media in relation to that post.
One of the best responses I’ve seen in months.
A lot of comments from people sharing authentic Love for me, from a place that I can feel is sincere.
This touches my heart. It really means a lot to me.
It gives me hope for humanity.
If I can be *that honest*, and people will still accept me and love me—and even love and trust me *more* for being willing to publicly share my ugly innards…
Then, wow.
That’s cool.
That’s really, really beautiful.
It gives me hope.
— Slug from Atmosphere
V.
There’s one line from ‘Confessions of a Fake Guru’ that is kinda haunting me…
When I said that I’m…
“Rarely content with the moment just as it is.”
I’m not sure if this is haunting me because it’s too true or because it’s not true.
Maybe it’s a paradox.
I can honestly say—hand on heart—that I love this life.
I can sincerely say that I would not trade places with any other being.
I love being me.
I love finding out where JB’s ridiculous winding path is going to go.
In real time, high-definition, moment-by-moment.
I love it.
Man, wow, it’s so juicy.
JB is a fucking fun character to play.
Lol.
He’s such a weirdo.
It’s always a surprise.
And…
My heart is full.
I genuinely feel deeply fulfilled by my life.
I feel true to myself and to my callings and to what God made me.
And even though I *totally am* often frenetically bouncing from one form of artificial stimulation to the next, often seemingly wanting to do anything other than *simply STOP* and be still in this moment…
I do stop.
I do pause often.
I take a hot bath, or go to the sauna, and I simply sit with myself and my feelings.
Or when I’m with my daughter, I’m *really with her* for large spans of time.
I *really try* to slow down and be in embodied heart-centered presence with her.
Often I fail.
Yet often I succeed.
And those moment of deep presence with her are indescribably precious.
So…
I don’t know.
It’s like I *am* usually content with this moment as it is—and also not, at the same time.
I *fucking love* this life—*and* I’m carrying around this seemingly-bottomless pit of anguish that sometimes feels like it could devour me whole.
I’m reminded of this sorta eerily delicious line in an R.A.P. Ferreira song:
“My sadness a hound dog—
and he creep beside me,
he creep beside me.”
VI.
“And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.”
I had already written several more posts related to the launch of True Creation Accelerator.
I had planned to publish them on a ~daily basis this coming week, leading up to the official start date of July 1st.
And I’m pretty sure I’m still gonna do that.
I already wrote the posts.
They contain a lot of value.
They might not all have this quality of *next-level realness* that is coming out in this ‘Confessions’ series.
But they’re solid, beautiful posts.
A couple of them feel especially powerful to me.
So, look forward to those.
(Or unsubscribe and never think of me again, lol. Always your call, fam.)
Once True Creation Accelerator gets started, I’m likely gonna slow down on the publishing and go back to sending you ~one post per week or so. Let’s see.
I have a ton of great stuff I’ve been cooking up, but it’s not easy finding time to write and publish so many thousands of words, week in and week out.
If you appreciate my writing and wanna cast a vote in favor of me spending more time on it, you’re welcome to become a paying subscriber for $7/month:
It means a lot to me when people do this, but it’s also totally okay if you don’t.
It means a lot to me that you are here at all, listening and witnessing and seeing me and finding some kind of resonance or appreciation.
For a while now I’ve had the idea to write a quasi-autobiographical book called Confessions of a Fake Guru.
Maybe these two posts are meant to be part of that book. Let me know if you want me to keep writing it.
VII.
Phew, all-right-y then…
There’s another ~2,000 words from me.
Lovingly wrung from my loins like fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice on a Saturday morning.
How ‘bout that?
It’s funny, it kinda feels like True Creation Accelerator must have already started on some level.
Or at least the medicinal potency of its energy field is already working on me.
Because DAMNED if I didn’t just write two of the TRUEST things I ever fucking wrote.
From my heart, my soul, and my lower intestine.
I’m starting to understand that this True Creation journey is going to be deeply healing for all of us in the tribe.
Yes, we’re going to party and laugh and dance and sing and write poems and have fun and make art and learn how to level up as creators and entrepreneurs and leaders…
AND we’re also going to get fucking REAL.
I can’t believe it’s only just hitting me—how big this piece is going to be.
We’re going to share our pain with each other.
We’re going to let ourselves be seen by one another in the full naked honesty of what we are.
(While *most likely* keeping our actual physical clothes on, but ya never know, lol, let’s see. I’ve definitely been known to take my shirt off on Zoom.)
This is what true creativity and true art is all about, after all.
BEING FUCKING REAL.
BECOMING EVER MORE REAL AND TRUE.
THAT is what my work and this journey is all about.
Becoming REAL, and then LIVING from that place.
CREATING from that place.
Building a LEGACY from that place.
Giving our GIFTS from that place—for the kids inside us and for the kids outside us and for the Whole.
If that resonates with you…
VIII.
All right.
Okie dokie.
I keep thinking I’m going to end this thing, then it keeps getting longer.
Now’s time to leave, though.
Tanja says Lila is getting tired.
So it’s time for her to drop me off at the sauna.
(Because I still can’t drive a manual. I tried to learn and then our car broke while I was learning and it cost like $1,200 to fix and I haven’t tried to learn again since then.)
I’m ready for some deep relaxation.
Ready to marinate in the energetic soup that has been poured into these confessional writings.
Thank you, again.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for being you.
Some parts of me love you.
Some parts of me hate you.
Some parts of me love myself.
Some parts of me hate myself.
Some parts of me love life.
Some parts of me hate life.
And it’s all okay.
It is as it is.
It’s all held in the capital-L Love that is beyond love or hate.
It’s all held in God’s Grace.
And it can’t really be said.
But I keep on trying.
Like any stubborn-ass Aries would.
With Love,
J
“‘Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'
'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.
'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'
'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'
'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.’”― Margery Williams Bianco, The Velveteen Rabbit
