A satirical deep-dive into the commercialization of Presence, where spiritual awakening is packaged, priced, and downloadable. If you've ever tried to monetize your mindfulness—or felt guilty for not—this one's for you.
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
A whole book? Then consider this scroll your combo meal blessing—now with extra fries and a levitating milkshake.
Yes! The McDonaldization of enlightenment: drive-thru awakening, certified by influencers, served lukewarm in biodegradable koans. “Would you like ego death with that?” Sure—but only if it’s gluten-free and comes with a tote.
You saw it. You named it. You deep-fried it in discernment.
Blessed be your sacred sarcasm and your refusal to be supersized by spiritual nonsense.
Yes… and I hate people that say shit like this, but it’s actually true… I was calling out the bullshit in the new age/new thought movement before it was cool… As well as my own participation in the making it sort of uncool…
Ah yes, the sacred sommelier of suffering: “Mmm… tell me more about your abandonment issues… I’m getting notes of childhood neglect with a smoky finish of codependency.”
If it triggered you, that means the aim was true. 🤣
May your trauma never be swirled, sniffed, or savored by spiritual freeloaders again.
You, my feral friend, are already the vintage. No label required.
Right? The sacred koan of Substack spirituality: “If you roast the grift with holy fire but end with a tip jar, is it still enlightenment—or just well-seasoned hypocrisy?”
Irony is the incense of the mystic. It stings the eyes, clears the room, and somehow makes the truth smell better.
Thank you for catching the paradox and not flinching. I’ll keep writing. You keep witnessing.
As usual, I find immense comfort in your words, having been on a religious and spiritual mission of my very own most of my life. I love your clever “snark” and applaud you with every word I read. Thank you for sharing your wisdom as you do. I am reading it and feel validation in your words. ❤️
You have no idea how holy your words are to a wayward monk who gave up incense just to breathe in the scent of mischief and sacred rebellion.
If anything I write brings you comfort or lights a candle in the cave of your own searching, then the mission is already fulfilled. No vesper bells required. The validation you feel isn’t mine to give. It’s the voice inside you that’s always known. I’m just the cheeky monk holding up the mirror and whispering, “Told you so.”
Thank you for walking this crooked, radiant path with me.
A question dropped in on me about 10 years ago: Who are you when no one’s looking?” I didn’t ask. It was asked of me. It’s been an unexpected guide. It’s also exposed to me how performatively (apparently not a word? Yeah-huh) I operate. I have to stop hating this and accept it. Pride is such a cunning little fucker. I’m going to go far, because I’ve got so far to go.
Angela, you just casually dropped a whole gospel in the comment section.
That question, Who are you when no one’s looking?—that’s not just self-reflection. That’s a divine ambush. The soul hears it only when the ego slips out for snacks.
And yes, “performatively” is a word now. If Webster’s hasn’t caught up, that’s his spiritual problem. Virgin Monk Boy already scribbled it in the margins of the Book of Becoming.
Pride is sneaky. It shows up in barefoot robes pretending to be humility, humming mantras it learned from TikTok, and suggesting you host a workshop. But the gap you feel between who you are and who you're becoming? That gap is sacred. That's where grace makes her camp.
You’re going far, not in spite of that distance, but because of it.
Virgin Monk Boy sees you. And the One behind you. Keep walking.
If everyone that monetized in this way, passed a large percentage to charities and organizations doing good…we might be able to keep many supports and safety nets going through this mess. I’m working on my plan 🤷♀️
Now that’s the kind of spiritual capitalism I’d tithe to.
If we must dance with the monetization monster, let’s at least make it do the Electric Slide toward justice. Sacred redistribution? Divine loophole. Gospel with receipts.
Your plan has already been blessed by the Monastery of Madness Accounting Department (which mostly runs on side-eyes and unpaid interns named Karma).
May your offerings multiply, your heart stay generous, and your plan be the one that turns the tide.
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
A whole book? Then consider this scroll your combo meal blessing—now with extra fries and a levitating milkshake.
Yes! The McDonaldization of enlightenment: drive-thru awakening, certified by influencers, served lukewarm in biodegradable koans. “Would you like ego death with that?” Sure—but only if it’s gluten-free and comes with a tote.
You saw it. You named it. You deep-fried it in discernment.
Blessed be your sacred sarcasm and your refusal to be supersized by spiritual nonsense.
Yes… and I hate people that say shit like this, but it’s actually true… I was calling out the bullshit in the new age/new thought movement before it was cool… As well as my own participation in the making it sort of uncool…
"They say “mmm” a lot while you talk, as if your trauma is a fine wine."
You triggered me with this one 🤣
Ah yes, the sacred sommelier of suffering: “Mmm… tell me more about your abandonment issues… I’m getting notes of childhood neglect with a smoky finish of codependency.”
If it triggered you, that means the aim was true. 🤣
May your trauma never be swirled, sniffed, or savored by spiritual freeloaders again.
You, my feral friend, are already the vintage. No label required.
Irony is mystical sometimes - "You just read 1,200 words roasting monetized mysticism, and now I’m asking for your digital alms."
Keep writing.
Right? The sacred koan of Substack spirituality: “If you roast the grift with holy fire but end with a tip jar, is it still enlightenment—or just well-seasoned hypocrisy?”
Irony is the incense of the mystic. It stings the eyes, clears the room, and somehow makes the truth smell better.
Thank you for catching the paradox and not flinching. I’ll keep writing. You keep witnessing.
Agh! I hate new age capitalism so much!!! This is great.
New Age Capitalism: where your aura has a price point and your healing comes with a monthly subscription.
Your holy rage is noted and canonized—filed right between “Jesus flipping tables” and “Buddha canceling his speaking tour.”
Thank you for naming the ache and laughing anyway. That’s the true Way of the Fool: sacred discernment wrapped in irreverent flame.
As usual, I find immense comfort in your words, having been on a religious and spiritual mission of my very own most of my life. I love your clever “snark” and applaud you with every word I read. Thank you for sharing your wisdom as you do. I am reading it and feel validation in your words. ❤️
Jennifer, my kindred pilgrim,
You have no idea how holy your words are to a wayward monk who gave up incense just to breathe in the scent of mischief and sacred rebellion.
If anything I write brings you comfort or lights a candle in the cave of your own searching, then the mission is already fulfilled. No vesper bells required. The validation you feel isn’t mine to give. It’s the voice inside you that’s always known. I’m just the cheeky monk holding up the mirror and whispering, “Told you so.”
Thank you for walking this crooked, radiant path with me.
Your spirit roars in velvet.
(And now I find a tear or two tenderly rolling down my cheeks)❤️😊❤️
Keep clearing the way.
Always. With a feather, a flamethrower, or a well-placed meme—whatever the sacred moment requires.
Some paths aren’t walked—they’re carved through bullshit with holy audacity.
Thank you for walking beside the clearing crew.
A question dropped in on me about 10 years ago: Who are you when no one’s looking?” I didn’t ask. It was asked of me. It’s been an unexpected guide. It’s also exposed to me how performatively (apparently not a word? Yeah-huh) I operate. I have to stop hating this and accept it. Pride is such a cunning little fucker. I’m going to go far, because I’ve got so far to go.
Angela, you just casually dropped a whole gospel in the comment section.
That question, Who are you when no one’s looking?—that’s not just self-reflection. That’s a divine ambush. The soul hears it only when the ego slips out for snacks.
And yes, “performatively” is a word now. If Webster’s hasn’t caught up, that’s his spiritual problem. Virgin Monk Boy already scribbled it in the margins of the Book of Becoming.
Pride is sneaky. It shows up in barefoot robes pretending to be humility, humming mantras it learned from TikTok, and suggesting you host a workshop. But the gap you feel between who you are and who you're becoming? That gap is sacred. That's where grace makes her camp.
You’re going far, not in spite of that distance, but because of it.
Virgin Monk Boy sees you. And the One behind you. Keep walking.
You have blessed me with this and I am grateful. Thank you
If a blessing landed, then the scroll did its job. 🙏
Gratitude received and returned tenfold, wrapped in lavender sarcasm and tied with a ribbon of radiant truth.
May your days be stirred, not sedated—and your spirit stay just wild enough to disrupt polite theology.
If everyone that monetized in this way, passed a large percentage to charities and organizations doing good…we might be able to keep many supports and safety nets going through this mess. I’m working on my plan 🤷♀️
Now that’s the kind of spiritual capitalism I’d tithe to.
If we must dance with the monetization monster, let’s at least make it do the Electric Slide toward justice. Sacred redistribution? Divine loophole. Gospel with receipts.
Your plan has already been blessed by the Monastery of Madness Accounting Department (which mostly runs on side-eyes and unpaid interns named Karma).
May your offerings multiply, your heart stay generous, and your plan be the one that turns the tide.
Thank you for exposing more of what I have often thought myself.
Then you, too, have been whispering truth into the corners of the commodified temple.
It’s a strange comfort when satire simply confirms what our soul already knew—but couldn’t quite say without causing a scene at the yoga co-op.
Thank you for thinking it, holding it, and now saying it out loud. That’s how the veil thins.
This is awesome! :-)
Coming from a scribe who juggles Religious, Reasonable, & Radical without bursting into holy flames? That means everything.
Thanks for catching the scroll mid-flight and smiling as it singed a few illusions.
Stay awesome. Stay radical. Stay righteously unreasonable in all the right ways.
So was buy me a coffee satire? Or selling a contrarian position? 🤔
Beautiful question.
Buy Me a Coffee is both satire and sacrament.
Satire, because trying to monetize presence is absurd. But then again, so is the world we live in where everything gets a price tag.
Sacrament, because even small acts of support can become holy when they say, "I see you" in a culture built on distraction.
Is it contrarian? Maybe. But only if believing presence is priceless makes you a heretic.
Which, honestly, it probably does.
Yes... A Presence University is the way to go...
Thank you 🙏
VedicSoul—
Yes! Presence University—where the only curriculum is unlearning, the diploma is a deep breath, and office hours are held in stillness.
No tuition. Just attention.
Thank you for recognizing the sacred syllabus already written on the walls of the Now.
🙏🙏
Amazing 🤣🤣🤣
When three laughing emojis show up, the monastery bells ring and the saints do a little cha-cha.
Thanks for laughing at the holy nonsense with us. It means you're tuned to the right frequency—somewhere between revelation and ridiculous.
Stay amazing. Stay mischievous.