They call me a Spiritual Teacher but I have Nothing to Teach.

They call me a spiritual teacher. But I have nothing to teach you.

I have no method to offer. No techniques. No practices. No A to Z. There is no path, no way, no guarantee of results.

I’m not interested in selling you a product, in packaging a teaching, in feeding the acquisitive mind with knowledge. I don’t want to create a sangha or a lineage. Nor do I want to surround myself with people dependent on me for their enlightenment.

They call me a spiritual teacher. But I’m not interested in spirituality.

I’m interested in telling the truth. To you. Whether you’re family or friend, beloved or stranger. Whether we walk this earthly journey together or whether we pass like ships in the night.

And most of all, I’m interested in telling the truth to myself. In every moment. Without fail. Whether I like the truth or not. And whether you do or not.

I don’t need you to like me, love me, or elevate me. But I do need you to meet me in truth. To meet me in openness. To meet me beyond opinion, beyond belief, and beyond convention.

If giving allegiance to truth means I speak to many or speak to one, all of it is good. I’m not interested in creating a career out of being a spiritual teacher or a speaker .. nor anything else for that matter. I’m not interested in having a career, full stop. If my words touch your soul, part the veils in your mind, and pierce your heart, then this is good. These words are not designed to hook you in to my truth, but to free you from your own untruths.

The only design I have is to live according to my deepest truth. In the innermost realm, this truth is unchanging. In the outer realm, this is always evolving. There is no long-term plan, just a moment to moment bowing down to what is true. It is not my job to control it, but simply to tend to it.

Who knows what truth will look like as it moves through this vehicle called Amoda in 10 years time, in 5 years, or even next year? Each moment I die, and each moment I am reborn. Until the breath stops, once and for all. Between now and then is the existential tightrope of everything and nothing, fullness and emptiness, stillness and movement. On this tightrope, I walk each day.

– Amoda Maa

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