Spiritual Hustlers: The Real Face of Maya
Spiritual Hustlers: The Real Face of
Maya
How many times have you been warned about the dangers of Maya—the
illusion? If you grew up around Indian religions, you've heard it all your
life: Maya is the root of suffering. It distracts you from truth, binds
you to desire, and keeps you trapped in the cycle of birth and death.
But here’s the twist: Maya is also the word used for
money. And that’s no coincidence.
In Sanskrit, Maya means illusion. Currency is the
perfect example. A piece of paper or a number in a bank has no inherent value.
Its worth is purely symbolic—backed not by reality, but belief. A socially
agreed illusion. So when religious leaders warn you against Maya, while
asking for donations, ask yourself: who’s actually clinging to illusion?
Take India. Baba Ramdev began as a preacher of simplicity and
Ayurvedic wisdom. Now he oversees a billion-dollar empire. Gurmeet Ram Rahim
Singh lived like a pop star while abusing his followers—until the law caught
up. Asaram Bapu, once revered, now sits in prison for abusing children. These
so-called spiritual leaders told millions to renounce Maya, while
secretly hoarding it.
Even Prime Minister Narendra Modi claimed to be above Maya—a
monk in a politician’s robe. Yet under his watch, public wealth has been
quietly funneled into the hands of a few powerful friends. National resources
sold off. Institutions weakened. And through it all, he curates his own
illusion—expensive clothes, high production value appearances, and a PR machine
more polished than any corporation.
This isn’t detachment. It’s calculated illusion. It's Maya
at scale.
But this hypocrisy isn’t exclusive to India.
In Christianity, particularly in the United States,
“prosperity gospel” preachers run multimillion-dollar ministries. Figures like
Joel Osteen, Creflo Dollar, and Kenneth Copeland fly private jets, own
sprawling estates, and preach that wealth is a sign of divine favor—while their
followers, often working-class and struggling, give what little they have to
“seed” their own future blessings. Copeland once claimed he needed a private
jet so he wouldn’t have to "fly with demons"—meaning regular people.
Meanwhile, the Catholic Church owns vast real estate
globally, with the Vatican cloaked in centuries-old luxury, art, and gold. Yet
millions of Catholics worldwide live in poverty. When wealth is this
concentrated in institutions that speak of humility, it stops being a
contradiction. It becomes a design.
Islam has also not been spared. In many Gulf nations,
ultra-wealthy monarchs claim divine guidance while financing religious
institutions that promote charity and modesty—yet live in obscene luxury.
Gold-plated palaces, fleets of supercars, and billion-dollar yachts sit in
stark contrast to the refugee camps and economic despair across the Muslim
world.
In Judaism, ultra-orthodox sects in Israel and the U.S.
receive vast amounts of state subsidies and private donations, while often
resisting integration, employment, or modern education—placing heavy economic
burdens on the broader society in the name of spiritual preservation.
What ties all of this together? The business of belief. The
monetization of faith. The illusion sold to the many, enriching the few.
Nature doesn’t work this way. In nature, everything follows
balance. There is give and take, life and decay. But humans decided we could
rewrite those rules. We told ourselves we could manufacture happiness, engineer
spirituality, and manage meaning. And so we did.
We created the Web—both digital and metaphysical. We built
illusions and chose to live inside them. Whether it’s wealth, identity, or
belief, everything has been wrapped in a curated layer of performance. And the
saddest part? We reward those who wear the illusion best.
We’ve taken Maya, an ancient warning about illusion,
and turned it into a global business model. We’ve turned temples, mosques,
churches, and parliaments into platforms for illusion. We’re not just fooled by
Maya. We sell it. Package it. Worship it.
But here’s the part no one tells you: to understand Maya,
you must go inward.
The truth is not in the voice of the televangelist, the guru,
the politician, or the influencer. The truth is in your own mind, your own
breath, your connection to life as it is—not as it’s sold to you.
Humans are not weak. We are not born to chase illusions. We
are part of nature—just like the trees, the rivers, and the stars. And nature
provides. When we live aligned with it, our needs are simple, and the effort to
meet them is minimal. But when we fall into man-made illusions of luxury,
status, and endless accumulation, we become trapped. We surrender our freedom
under the guise of faith.
Don’t let that happen.
Maya is not just around you. It’s within you—whispering that you need more,
must do more, must become more to be enough. That’s the illusion. Recognize it,
and you reclaim your power.
The escape from Maya isn't about giving your wealth to
someone else. It’s about not being owned by it in the first place.
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