When ego hides behind incense and Instagram quotes
There’s a new type of narcissist out here. They’re not chasing status in the boardroom or flexing in luxury cars. No — these ones sip matcha, chant mantras, and talk about “vibrational alignment” while judging everyone around them.
They show up in yoga classes, on meditation cushions, in cacao ceremonies, sound baths, and spiritual retreats. They wear white linen, carry crystals, talk about “the work” — and then gossip about the very people they sat in circle with. They claim to be healers, intuitives, energy workers — yet behind closed doors, they mock their clients, trash their peers, and carry themselves with the smugness of someone who thinks they’ve outgrown basic decency.
This is spiritual narcissism. And it's spreading.
When Self-Work Becomes a Cover for Self-Worship
There’s nothing wrong with self-care. In fact, we need it. Real healing is hard. It’s courageous. It requires deep reflection, personal accountability, and an uncomfortable amount of honesty. But the New Age Narcissist isn’t interested in that kind of work.
They’ve found a shortcut: use the language of healing to bypass the actual work. Say the right words, post the right quotes, wear the right aesthetic — and the world will assume you’ve reached enlightenment.
They talk about “boundaries,” but use that word to cut off anyone who challenges them. They talk about “raising their vibration,” but it really just means avoiding people who trigger their insecurities. They go to therapy — but only to collect new phrases to armor their egos with. Words like gaslighting, projection, codependency, and narcissist become tools to label others and deflect blame.
They’re not working on themselves — they’re building a spiritual persona.
The Rise of the “Healer” with a Hidden Agenda
Perhaps the most damaging expression of this trend lies in the coaching and healing industry. People now pay large sums of money — sometimes thousands — to work with energy workers, soul coaches, trauma guides, and self-styled shamans.
Some of these practitioners are sincere, gifted, and deeply ethical.
But others?
They’re frauds in disguise. They get off on power. They love being seen as “special” or “chosen.” They build their identity around having spiritual gifts — and they use those gifts not to uplift, but to control, to shame, or to feel superior.
They speak in soft tones while ripping into clients behind their backs. They violate confidentiality. They roll their eyes about the very people who trusted them. They act like they’re gods, like they can read energy no one else can — and they love being surrounded by people who need them.
It’s not healing. It’s exploitation with incense.
Spiritual Grandiosity: The Subtle Symptom
Real spirituality humbles you. It softens you. It doesn’t turn you into someone who thinks they’re better than others — it helps you remember that no one is beneath you.
But spiritual narcissists flip that completely.
They use their “awakening” as a hierarchy. They start believing they’re on a different level of consciousness than everyone else. That their insights are divine. That their pain is more important. That they see things others can’t. They believe they're here to guide humanity — yet they treat people like stepping stones on their way to godhood.
They constantly talk about how much work they’ve done. They mention their ayahuasca journeys, past-life clearings, their downloads from Source. Everything becomes a power play. Everything is about how evolved they are.
But if you look closely, you’ll notice:
-
They can’t hold space for other people’s joy.
-
They compete, even in healing circles.
-
They silently celebrate when others fail — because it confirms their superiority.
-
They weaponize spiritual language to avoid emotional accountability.
This is spiritual grandiosity. It’s ego dressed as enlightenment. And it’s one of the clearest signs you’re not dealing with someone spiritual — just someone who’s hiding behind the word.
How to Recognize Real Spirituality
It’s not complicated. You don’t have to be psychic or trained in energy work to spot the real thing.
A truly spiritual person…
-
Doesn’t gossip or wish harm on others.
-
Feels genuine happiness when others succeed.
-
Respects all paths, not just their own.
-
Listens more than they talk.
-
Can admit when they’re wrong.
-
Doesn’t make you feel small, stupid, or “less evolved.”
-
Leads with kindness, not superiority.
Most of all, they live from an open heart. Not a curated identity. Not a script. Not a self-image they constantly protect.
You’ll feel it in their presence. They’ll leave you feeling safe, seen, and supported — not judged or manipulated.
As Ram Dass said: “I am loving awareness.” That’s the core. If it doesn’t come from love, it’s not spiritual — it’s something else entirely.
Abundance Is Not a Competition
Another marker of spiritual maturity? The ability to celebrate abundance for everyone — not just yourself.
There is enough for all of us. Enough joy. Enough healing. Enough success. Enough love. If someone acts like your shine dims theirs — that’s not spiritual, that’s scarcity mindset wrapped in mala beads.
The healed person doesn’t feel threatened by others rising. They cheer for it. They make space for it. They want others to win.
Because real light doesn’t need to outshine. It just shines.
Final Word: If You're Mean, You're Not Spiritual
This might sound blunt, but it needs to be said:
If you gossip, judge, manipulate, wish harm on others, or emotionally bully people — it doesn’t matter how many hours you meditate or how many sacred tattoos you have — you are not a spiritual person.
You’re just wearing a mask.
And people are waking up to that. They’re learning to feel the difference between real and fake. Between love and performance. Between guidance and control.
So if you truly care about being spiritual — stop focusing on looking the part. Start acting from love. Check your ego. Stop talking down to people. Heal in private. Apologize when you mess up. Cheer people on. Keep your heart open.
Because the real work? It’s quiet. It’s messy. It’s hard.
And it’s worth everything.
Love,
Laura