Yes, You Can Be a Mystic Without Renouncing Wi-Fi
Presence Happens at the DMV Too
Somewhere along the spiritual scroll, a footnote turned into a commandment:
“If thou seekest God, thou must first delete your social media accounts, wear neutral linens, and develop an allergy to Wi-Fi.”
The fantasy runs deep.
That awakening only happens in monasteries or mountaintops.
That enlightenment requires an Airbnb with no signal.
That the modern world is what’s blocking your transformation.
But here’s the inconvenient grace:
Presence is not allergic to your life.
It doesn’t need you to renounce your Wi-Fi.
It needs you to wake up inside your life—not escape it.
Mysticism isn’t about leaving the world.
It’s about becoming radically aware in it.
Jesus at the DMV
Let’s take the most obvious mystic in the room: Jesus.
He wasn’t holed up in a Himalayan cave dispensing silent wisdom. He was getting dust in his sandals, spit on his robe, interrupted by beggars, drunks, and desperate parents. His miracles happened in city streets, dinner parties, and stormy lakes.
Jesus didn’t call people away from life. He called them deeper into it.
Into their own bodies. Into their hearts. Into their pain.
And then something astonishing would happen:
Presence would crack the moment open.
A paralytic would rise.
A Samaritan woman would recognize her dignity.
A thief would see the light at the last possible second.
He didn’t offer escape.
He offered encounter.
Bruno Barnhart called this the epicenter—the shockwave of being Jesus set off. Each person he touched wasn’t just healed. They were awakened. They became more alive than they had ever been.
If Jesus walked into your living room, you wouldn’t have to hide your phone. You’d have to hide your autopilot. And even that wouldn’t work.
The Real Wi-Fi Problem
Let’s be honest: the problem isn’t Wi-Fi.
It’s that we’re rarely present while connected.
But guess what?
We’re rarely present while disconnected, either.
You can doomscroll or dissociate in a cave.
You can be just as numb at a yoga retreat as you are on Reddit.
The problem is not technology—it’s leaking energy.
As Helminski writes:
“We can either leak and scatter our energy, or embody and direct it.”
That’s the rub.
The mystic path is not about renunciation.
It’s about containment.
Not to repress, but to transform.
Human Beings as Spiritual Transformers
Presence, Helminski says, is “the human self-awareness that is the end result of the evolution of life on this planet.”
Let that land.
We are not just clever apes.
We are concentrated spiritual energy—designed to generate love, will, discernment, beauty, and grace.
Ants can organize.
Lions can defend.
Birds can nest.
But only humans can turn suffering into compassion, betrayal into forgiveness, silence into poetry, grief into generosity.
We are designed to reflect God.
But only when we are present.
Not spiritually “on-brand.” Not holier-than-thou.
Present.
And not just in candle-lit meditation rooms.
But in Costco. In courtrooms. In staff meetings. In breakups.
At the DMV.
Presence: The Missing Ingredient
Kabir Helminski calls Presence “the point of intersection between the world of the senses and the world of the spirit.”
That’s the frontier.
Not up in the clouds. Not far away in some esoteric plane.
Right here, in the tension between breath and body, suffering and stillness, noise and knowing.
You don’t need to transcend this world to touch the Divine.
You need to descend into it with awake eyes.
Every tradition names this elusive state:
Buddhists call it mindfulness
Sufis call it zikr (remembrance)
Christians call it prayer of the heart
Neuroscientists call it awareness
Your inner skeptic calls it suspicious
But whatever you name it, you know it when you feel it.
The moment time slows.
The moment you remember who you are.
The moment you feel your breath before your next reaction.
That is Presence.
And it is available right now.
No spiritual costume required.
Why You Don't Need to Quit Your Life
Here’s the real reason you don’t need to leave your life to become a mystic:
Because your life is the curriculum.
If you try to bypass your daily chaos in search of a spiritual high, you’ll miss the very training ground designed to crack your heart open.
Want to learn patience? Try parenting.
Want to learn compassion? Work in customer service.
Want to learn trust? Wait at the DMV without checking your phone.
Don’t escape the mess.
Enter it more deeply.
That’s where God waits.
Practice in the Real World
Try this experiment:
Next time you’re in a public place—waiting in line, in traffic, at a boring meeting—don’t flee. Don’t scroll. Don’t fantasize.
Just... return.
Feel your breath.
Notice your posture.
Feel the ground under your feet.
Let your awareness widen.
Don’t “try” to feel spiritual. Just be awake.
It may last five seconds. That’s fine.
Do it again later.
You’re not practicing to earn Presence.
You’re practicing to notice it.
Presence Is the Portal
You don’t have to be perfect.
You don’t need to understand every doctrine.
You don’t need to get your life together first.
You just need to be willing.
Willing to notice.
Willing to stay.
Willing to let life be your teacher instead of your enemy.
This is what Helminski meant when he said Presence is our “passport to greater life.”
It’s not about escaping the world—it’s about embodying the one you already live in, differently.
Presence Is the One Thing
At the end of Chapter 1, Helminski tells a parable:
A king sends his servant to earth to accomplish one task. The servant gets distracted by hundreds of other things—some good, some impressive—but forgets the one thing he was sent to do.
That “one thing,” for us, is Presence.
The remembering of what lives within us.
Not above. Not beyond. Right here.
The flame inside the clay.
You don’t need to abandon the world.
You just need to show up inside it.
That’s the one thing.
And if you do it—even briefly—you’ve not wasted your life.
Final Transmission
So yes, you can be a mystic without renouncing Wi-Fi.
You can be holy without deleting your apps.
You can radiate love without moving to a forest.
The sacred isn’t somewhere else.
It’s trying to get your attention now.
While your Uber driver tells you a weird story
While your dog won’t stop barking
While you microwave leftovers at 11pm wondering what the hell you’re doing
Presence isn’t a luxury.
It’s your birthright.
Not some glowing state you enter when everything aligns, but the quiet turning toward your own life—moment by moment, again and again.
Even in line.
Even in pain.
Even in pixelated Zoom meetings with unstable connections.
Because your connection to the Divine?
It’s not really a connection.
It’s recognition.
If this post unhinged your halo, poured some Presence in your posture, or made your inner heretic weep with joy—share it, toss a coin to your scribal renegade, or subscribe for more molten reflections from the margins.
Many thanks, Good Teacher, for this beautiful teaching, so nice for a Sunday morning. No church sermon given today can hold a candle to it! 🌅
Beautifully said. I needed to read this, so thank you. Presence = Recognition