Who’s your guru?
Who are you outsourcing the getting of your wisdom to? And, crucially, why?
I was at a yoga retreat recently and on day two we were told a Yogi was gracing us with her ‘unfiltered presence’. And then there she was….
A silver-haired crone with a hook nose, broken leg and a demeanour that snap crackled with humour, nous and zero f**ks.
“You are what you worship.”
“Being yourself is the most liberating thing you can be.”
Then she gleefully regaled us with technicolour tales from her rock star yogi life… luscious affairs with younger men, the natural altered states 4,000 hours of meditation can bring and that one time a bendy friend popped a line of coke under her nose while she was doing a headstand.
Her cavalier attitude to perfection, intoxicating. Her truth bombs, sublime.
“Our only duty is to become transparent.”
The influencer types around me nodded in earnest, absorbing the gospel. But the night before they were sharing their unresolved traumas (while their websites hawked $1,000 coaching sessions on mastering your power).
Wanna really harness your fire? Ignore the gurus. They’re unlikely to give you their warts n’ all wisdom like this Yogi,
“Life is your guru.” She said before describing her prolapsed bladder and the plug she used to keep it in. The chick beside me asked her what the plug was made of, and the Yogi didn’t miss a beat,
“I’ve got no idea. But it’s not made of wheatgrass.”
© Phyllis Foundis 2025