Presence™: Now Available in 3 Easy Payments
Ancient transformation. Modern packaging. Enlightenment, but make it practical.
⚠️ Satire Alert: No influencers were shadowbanned in the making of this transmission. But some were unfollowed.
Once upon a time, Presence was something you stumbled into. A crack in the matrix. A holy ambush. You were just peeling potatoes or watching the light hit the carpet a certain way and suddenly—boom—you were inside the now.
No fireworks. No affirmations.
Just a quiet obliteration of your false self.
And maybe a few tears.
But now, thanks to centuries of innovation, institutional bottlenecking, and recent advances in influencer monetization, you no longer have to wait for Presence to sneak up on you like a barefoot Jesus in your garden.
You can now purchase it.
In three easy payments of $111.
Or download the freemium app with limited access to your own soul.
The Rebranding of the Eternal Now™
Mystics used to disappear into mountains.
Now they vanish behind paywalls.
The moment someone discovered Presence was “that missing ingredient” from all the traditions, some well-meaning monk-turned-marketer whispered, “You know what would pair well with that? A workbook.”
Thus began the industrialization of the ineffable.
We now have:
Presence Retreats™ (with artisan mindfulness snacks)
Presence Merch™ (slouchy hoodies that say “Breathe.”)
Presence Coach Certification™ (become qualified in something unteachable!)
Presence Pods™ (weekly Zooms where people overshare and accidentally heal each other)
And the kicker? None of it’s necessary.
But damn, it looks enlightened.
How to Spot Presence™ in the Wild:
You’ll know you’ve encountered a certified Presence Practitioner when:
They pause 3 seconds before answering questions, to seem grounded.
They say “mmm” a lot while you talk, as if your trauma is a fine wine.
Their voice drops an octave every time they say the word stillness.
They usually wear earth tones, quote Rumi without context, and offer to hold space for you—for a modest sliding scale fee.
Replacing the Flame with a Format
Jesus was a wildfire.
Rumi was a bonfire.
You are currently enrolled in an 8-week online Presence Circle with breakout rooms and “reflection prompts.”
Something got lost.
Ancient presence meant melting into the divine mystery.
Modern presence means checking your nervous system score on an app that reminds you to “hydrate and reflect.”
I once knew a woman who wouldn’t leave her house until she had performed 27 spiritual rituals. She called it “grounding.” I called it “soul cosplay.”
Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we threw out the incense and just felt something real.
Welcome to Presence™ University
We’re so glad you’re here.
Our curriculum includes:
Module 1: Inner Observation Without Spiraling
Module 2: How to Stop Narrating Your Life Like a Wellness Podcast
Module 3: Not Every Tight Chest Is a Trauma Response—You’re Just in Target
Module 4: Remembering the One Thing You Were Here For (Before You Opened Instagram)
Graduates receive a digital badge, a 20% discount on somatic body oil, and the right to put “Presence Practitioner” in their LinkedIn bio.
Warning: Side Effects May Include
Unlearning everything you thought was spiritual
Accidentally crying at sunsets
Losing interest in your personal brand
Spontaneous forgiveness of your ex
Realizing you don’t need more presence—you need less distraction
The Thing Nobody Tells You
Presence doesn’t announce itself.
It doesn’t knock. It doesn’t post. It doesn’t care if your phone is off or if you’ve read The Untethered Soul three times in a row. It slips into the cracks between your roles. It arrives when your defenses are tired. When your script is broken. When you’re not performing being “aware.”
It’s what’s left when you stop trying to seem spiritual.
The Anti-Call to Action
So no, you don’t need a workbook.
You don’t need a smorgasbord of mystical techniques from 14 traditions you haven’t lived.
You need a patch of silence.
A few honest breaths.
And the courage to sit still long enough to remember who you are when the noise dies down.
Presence isn’t something you attain.
It’s something you stop resisting.
And it doesn’t cost $111.
It costs everything you use to avoid yourself.
May your mindfulness tracker glitch.
May your curated rituals fall apart.
May you accidentally stumble into the moment, naked and unsure, and find that it was enough.
No link in bio.
No opt-in funnel.
Just presence. Raw, wild, inconvenient presence.
If satirical spiritual heresy like this warms your heretical little heart and you’d like to see more irreverent takedowns of spiritual capitalism, culty coaches, and enlightenment-for-sale—consider doing the most absurd thing imaginable:
Buy me a coffee.
Yes, I know. The irony!
You just read 1,200 words roasting monetized mysticism, and now I’m asking for your digital alms.
But hey, even prophets need caffeine.
And Substack monks still pay rent.
Your support keeps the incense burning, the satire sharp, and the cult vibes just mysterious enough to stay fun.
Blessed be the subscribers, and the mildly confused.
Virgin Monk Boy
Excellent as usual, my dear… I wrote a whole book about this… It’s the McDonaldization of enlightenment… I’d like a side of levitation with that please
"They say “mmm” a lot while you talk, as if your trauma is a fine wine."
You triggered me with this one 🤣