A New Kind of Cult
“A misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing.”
As I work through this in my own mind, I want to share what I’m discovering, and see how it lands for you.
I have a deep need to express what’s on my mind, what I think and feel.
It’s liberating when I do, and even more so when what I share is heard and seen.
But for my own sanity, I had to ask: What needs to be expressed?
And what part of that expression doesn’t need to be received by another human?
There were years when I knew how to gather attention.
It wasn’t just that I was younger, I was actively seeking it.
But the deeper I explored who I really am, the more I saw the paradox:
What I need in this life must be about me.
Yet without an audience, its power and reach remain limited.
When I first understood the ego as the sum of roles, qualities, achievements, failures, and reactions I identify with, my instinct was to outsmart it.
It’s wild how quickly we try to bottle up everything peaceful, beautiful, and expansive, just so we can reuse it or even monetize on it.
The ego doesn’t care if it’s loud or quiet, it just wants admiration.
Our need to prove anything is ego-driven. So of course, that’s where I went.
My mentor told me:
“Marija, it’s like you’re putting lamb’s wool over a wolf—pretending you’re a lamb.”
Through the giving up and letting go, because ego work is never about what you gain, but what you release, I uncovered something steady and whole.
A place where, when I’m in it, all is well with the world.
And that “all is well” wasn’t pretend.
It wasn’t me trying to rise above anyone.
It was real.
Those places? They come like quiet after the storm, and usually after I’ve lashed out or lost my cool.
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First: I notice people trigger me.
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Second: I see that I’m reacting to what is—something I can’t control.
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Third: I own the impact of my reaction, and often feel humbled by my own intensity.
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Fourth: I learn to love the hard emotions—the parts of me I’m not proud of.
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Fifth: I stop judging others, because I see my own humanity.
And from there…
Something gentle takes hold.
I remember I’m just like everyone else: flawed, messy, human.
And in that remembering, I feel like I’ll be okay.
For now.
At first, I couldn’t sit in the peace.
I’d want to do something with it, seek approval, produce results.
But over time, I stayed there longer.
Not just to recharge… but to return to myself.
That reflection naturally led me to question leadership, power, and creation.
Because I’ve noticed something.
What I see in ego-led leadership:
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Big promises with no accountability
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Results framed as universal truths
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Self-centered storytelling disguised as generosity
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Oversharing to seem relatable, but not helpful
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Celebrity-style vulnerability with inflated importance
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“I’m different” messaging that’s just a more polished version of the same thing
And when I see this, I ask: Am I any different?
And the truth is: I’m not.
Especially not in the past.
So now, I’m asking different questions:
Can I be with how little my reach is right now?
Can I lead a program for one person and still give it everything?
Can I stop framing that as spiritual or noble how and just let it be what it is?
What I’ve had to face is this:
It’s painful to put work out there that’s meaningful, only to have it barely land.
Work I trained for, paid for, designed with care.
And then… minimal response.
But I don’t believe we’re “meant” for one thing or the another. I think all of this is ego.
I believe life’s design is: we can clear the noise to get to choice and then live with the consequences of our choices.
So right now, I’m choosing the slow path.
It’s a soul path that reqiures taking the time to listen.
And, I still want success.
I still have ego.
I just don’t want results at the expense of my soul.
I don’t want to wake up a few minutes before I die and ask: “where did the time go” or “what was all this effort for.”
So these days, I sing more.
I sell less.
The outcomes are slower.
But I feel more like myself.
And that feels like success, too.
Sometimes, when we fail in one arena, we go searching for success somewhere else.
But what I’ve found is: there is no “easier” path.
The only question worth asking is—what makes me feel alive?
Then:
Play that game.
Keep clearing.
Keep growing.
Keep going.
Mastery comes over time.
And this world doesn’t need more celebrities or cult leaders.
It needs more people who are lit up from within.
People who are fulfilled on the level of their soul.
