My Little Inner Guru

I’m watching a documentary called Kumaré. A filmmaker called Vikram Gandhi pretends to be a guru and people start following him.

The strange part is that some of them seem to get something real out of it. They start making changes in their lives. It’s funny, and a bit tragic too.

I keep wondering how much of it is belief. How much is having someone give you permission?

At one point he’s encouraging people to connect with their own inner guru. So I pause the movie.

Fuck it. What would my inner guru say?

I close my eyes and sit in silence.

The first thing that comes up is: be very comfortable with silence.

The second is: understand time.

Time is going to pass whatever I do. Things in reality keep moving even when I don’t. From a wealth perspective, it makes sense to build things that have time on their side. Evergreen products. Large fragmented markets. Things customers actually want and happily pay for. Good enough quality, executed over time.

Find people playing the long game. Make sure the incentives work. Spend time on your super strengths and find people who make up for your super weaknesses.

My little inner guru has quite a lot to say about business strategy.

He also suggests more patience. More fun with time. Some compassion.

Somewhere in all this there’s also the feeling that human beings are equal in soul. In the markets, sure, hierarchy everywhere. But in soul, there’s no rank. I’d like to embody that more.

I sit with another thought.

Nothing is missing.

I want to see what my mind does with that. Just try it on for a bit.

And some of the neurotic compulsion to grow, create, be productive and prove something seems to evaporate. A feeling of ease and lightness comes up.

There’s something different about it from saying, “I have enough.” It’s more like: it’s already whole. Already complete.

I used to think time was money, to a degree. Sitting there, time feels like time. I’d quite like to enjoy some of it.

I’d been feeling under the weather. There was creative work to do on a brand, and I didn’t want to sit at the desk powering through it.

So I went to bed.

Laptop open. Dictate some shit. Set the intelligence to super high, give it a direction, set it off. Watch a film and check in periodically.

Knowing the work was progressing helped me relax a bit.

I still wanted it fucking done.

I don’t want to be held up on this thing. There’s so much creative review afterwards. I can think about finding a who to handle it, but hiring a creative could cost a fortune, take ages, and I still wouldn’t know whether they’d get it right.

All of that irritation is there too.

But I can lie in bed, check whether it’s working on the right thing, redirect it, chill, repeat. As much as I feel I can.

And if I feel too unwell, I can throw in the towel for the day.

There are dependencies. It needs doing. It can also progress and get finished another day. I’ve got the weekend if I need it.

Even looking after myself can become another thing I feel I should get on with. Go and play padel. Go to the spa. Do the healthy things.

Today I can just stay in bed.

Then I finish the film.

The film ends by saying ten of his fourteen disciples were still in contact with him. Four weren’t. For some of them, finding out he was fake didn’t seem to undo what they’d experienced.

And Vikram himself seems to feel more connected as Kumaré than he did going through life as a sceptic. He’d made up this person, then found himself caring deeply about the people who came to him.

An illusion helping to remove another illusion. A made-up guru helping people question why they needed a guru at all.

That makes me wonder about my own little guru. Maybe “nothing is missing” is another belief I’m trying on. I don’t know whether it tells me anything ultimate about reality.

I do know I felt a bit lighter when I tried it.

I’ll keep listening for a bit. I can do that lying down.