22/07/2025
The Spiritual Narcissist
For years, I viewed predatory “gurus” as more akin to sociopaths—cold, manipulative, and distinct from the classic narcissist’s flashy need for admiration. I was wrong. Spiritual narcissists are an advanced, subtler breed of narcissist, cloaked in the guise of enlightenment. As someone adept at spotting conventional narcissists, I naively assumed I’d recognize their spiritual counterparts in sacred spaces. It took time to see their chameleon-like nature for what it is.
I’ve explored this topic on my website and Substack, but it’s worth revisiting. Why? Because spiritual narcissists are more common than we might expect, blooming like hidden thorns in the lush gardens of spiritual communities. In these times of intense energetic shifts, protecting our inner light from their siphoning is more crucial than ever.
Unlike conventional narcissists, spiritual narcissists don’t wear their flaws on their sleeves. Classic narcissists thrive on admiration, basking in the spotlight like moths drawn to a flame. Spiritual narcissists, however, slip into sacred spaces with a different guise. They don’t need to hold a leadership role—whether as a guru, teacher, or guide—to wield influence. Often, they blend in as peers, quietly weaving their webs among fellow seekers. These communities pulse with high-frequency energy—a banquet of radiant light that draws them like bees to nectar. The most vulnerable? Those who’ve done deep inner work, whose channels of light shine clear and bright. These souls are the feast.
A spiritual narcissist’s greatest tool is their chameleon-like mask. They master the “spiritual persona,” speaking the language of love, compassion, and enlightenment with fluency. They often thrive in fluid, open-hearted communities that prioritize acceptance and emotional connection over structure—think loosely organized circles focused on personal growth or collective healing. These spaces, radiant with trust, rarely challenge their presence. In contrast, communities rooted in tradition, ceremony, or practices that demand humility and accountability—like those centered on disciplined, ego-dissolving rituals—tend to create less fertile ground for their subtle manipulations. In trusting spaces, they blend seamlessly, their presence warm, their words wise, and their energy seemingly luminous. But it’s a borrowed glow.
Their light is not their own. Imagine a shimmering veil—pearlescent, captivating, even charismatic—draped over a darker, hollow core. This reflected light, siphoned from others, mimics the radiance of someone who’s done the deep work. True light, born of inner healing, burns like a steady flame from within, unwavering and direct. A spiritual narcissist’s light, by contrast, is like moonlight—beautiful but borrowed, never truly theirs.
I revisit this topic now because, as many of us undergo profound energetic upgrades, a spiritual narcissist can hijack that sacred process like a thief in the night. They don’t need to be in your physical space to drain you. Watch for those who talk a radiant game but lack follow-through, whose “niceness” feels performative rather than kind. Notice those who dominate conversations, soak up attention, or cling excessively, always craving more. Pay attention.
For empaths, this is a call to cultivate boundaries and discernment. Compassion is our gift, and yes, narcissists carry a deep wound—a fracture so profound they’ve lost the ability to generate their own energy. But they are not ours to heal. Our responsibility is to our own journey, nurturing the flame within us. The kindest act for a narcissist is to gently withdraw their external supply, forcing them to turn inward and mend their own broken source.
Protect your light. Tend your inner garden with care. In these times of transformation, your energy is too precious to be siphoned.
