I used to be a spiritual teacher.
I had to quit when I realised there was no such thing.
Or rather, everything is a spiritual teacher.
The cat. The carpet. A chair.
A tree. A mountain.
My dad with dementia.
Heartache. Joy.
My own. Yours.
The man sleeping on the pavement.
The breathtaking night sky.
It’s all a teacher.
It’s all a guru.
And I am just a mouthpiece, as we all are.
I am just a friend, sharing my heart.
I am just a bird, singing my song.
I quit as a spiritual teacher,
I quit as any kind of authority,
and I became a real human being, authentic, embodied, honest and true.
And there I found my true peace and enlightenment.
In the temple of the ordinary.
In the sanctuary of the mundane.
In the holy heart of the uncovered moment.