I’ve heard it a hundred times.
“When I had my ego death…”
Usually spoken like a badge of honor. A spiritual status symbol. A one-time cosmic cleanse that somehow elevated someone to guru status overnight.
Let’s be real:
Ego death isn’t a vibe. It’s a funeral.
It’s not something you casually mention over matcha.
It’s not something you brag about on Instagram.
And it doesn’t come with incense and enlightenment.
It comes with agony.
With isolation.
With surrender.
With the kind of vulnerability that strips you naked in front of your soul.
Ego death isn’t a moment. It’s a process—a lifelong one.
We die a thousand deaths:
The death of roles we thought defined us
The death of our image
The death of our addictions to validation, sex, control, perfection, comfort
Each layer that peels away reveals another we didn’t know we’d built.
And with each death, we’re not instantly “lighter.”
We’re rawer.
More exposed.
More human.
More honest.
This is the journey Jesus walked—40 days in the desert.
He didn’t “transcend.” He battled demons.
He fasted. He was tempted. He wrestled with every physical urge the body could throw at Him—and He overcame.
Lent in Christianity. Ramadan in Islam. Fasting across all sacred traditions.
They all point to the same thing:
To experience ego death is to train yourself that nothing in the physical world has power over your soul.
On April 17, 2020, I was instructed during meditation to begin a fast unlike any I had done before.
No food.
No sugar.
No sex.
No masturbation.
No external pleasure.
Just small amounts of water.
Silence. Isolation. Celibacy. Surrender.
Day after day, I met my demons.
Not just thoughts—but urges that begged to be obeyed.
The body revolted.
The ego screamed.
The loneliness was unbearable.
But that was the point.
I had to remember who I was when there was nothing left but God.
People want transformation, but they don’t want discipline.
They want ego death without discomfort.
They want the crown chakra open without touching the pain in their body.
They want to ascend without sacrificing the things they cling to for identity.
But the truth is:
The crown only opens when the ego has nothing left to grip.
You don’t open your crown by floating above your life.
You open it by descending into every room of your soul and turning on the light.
I’ve had many ego deaths.
And each time I thought, “Surely, this is the last one.”
It never is.
As I jump between realms, dimensions, identities, and missions—God continues to throw me into deeper levels of purification.
And here’s the part people don’t talk about:
Even as a spiritual teacher, I am always being tested.
God places me in situations that test my ability to:
Forgive deeper
Love deeper
Be more compassionate to myself and others
Practice what I teach under pressure
And I fail sometimes.
And I return.
And I learn again.
So when someone says, “I had an ego death,” like it’s a gold star…
I want to ask:
“Are you still dying?”
Because unless you’re willing to feel everything—in totality, with no numbing, no bypassing, no performance—you’re not in ego death.
You’re in ego disguise.
Don’t get caught in spiritual jargon that has no soul.
If your awakening isn’t making you kinder, more humble, more grounded, and more loving—it’s not an awakening. It’s an illusion.
Ego death isn’t for the chosen few.
It’s for the brave.
For those willing to give up who they think they are to become who God made them to be.
You don’t get there through shortcuts.
You get there through the fire.
You get there through love.
May it be a light on your journey.
Together, we’re stepping into a new world—one healed heart at a time.
