How to Be Spiritual Without Becoming Intolerable

(everything stated in this blog is based upon my own research, personal practice, and opinion)

A hard pill for many to swallow is, being spiritual doesn’t automatically make you a good person. Or an interesting person. Or even a tolerable person.

I know. Shocking.

Contrary to what Instagram bios and WitchTok might suggest, mysticism is not a personality trait. It’s a practice. A path. A process of transformation. Somewhere between the moon water trend and the 800th “What deity are you?” quiz, a disturbing phenomenon has emerged:

People treating spirituality like it’s an aesthetic identity instead of a sacred, lived reality.

Here’s the tea, my divine friend: When you confuse your mystical practice for your entire personality, you don’t ascend, you just become that person no one invites to brunch anymore because you keep trying to read their aura over pancakes.

How Did We Get Here?

Easy. Late-stage capitalism met the wellness industrial complex, shook hands with social media, and said: “Let’s make spiritual identity something people can buy, brand, and weaponize!”

And so, it was.

Suddenly, spirituality wasn’t something you do, it was something you perform. You correct people’s chakras in casual conversation. You say things like “I’m just too empathic to be around unhealed people” while giving off the energetic equivalent of a wet cat in a thunderstorm. You stop becoming and start curating.

 If you can convince the world you’re spiritual enough, maybe no one will notice you’re still a whole-ass human under the patchouli and pentagrams.

Spoiler alert: they notice.

Let’s Talk About the Vibe People Hate

We’ve all met that person in the spiritual scene. Hell, some of us have been that person (it’s okay, consider this your intervention). You know the one:

Talks like a horoscope swallowed a thesaurus.

Believes they’re more “evolved” because they stopped drinking coffee and now commune with starlight.

Insists on leading every group ritual, even when it’s someone else’s group.

Uses “boundaries” as an excuse to be a jerk and “downloads from spirit” as an excuse to ignore accountability.

Weaponizes words like “vibration,” “sacred,” and “energy” to shut people down instead of lifting them up.

The people who believe spiritual insight exempts them from humility.

The ones who talk about detachment while desperately clinging to their curated mystic identity.

The gods are rolling their eyes so hard they’re astrally concussed.

Being Mystical Doesn’t Mean You’re Done Growing

Mysticism is not a final form. It’s not the end of the path, it’s the start. It’s vulnerability on steroids. It’s soul-surgery with no anesthesia. It’s dancing naked in your own pain while spirits offer cryptic advice and your shadow self judges your footwork.

And none of that makes you better than anyone. It just means you’ve chosen to walk a particular path toward meaning and mystery. That’s beautiful. That’s brave…but it’s not a license to stop being human. Or kind. Or fun to be around.

Being Spiritual Doesn’t Excuse Bad Behavior

Let’s make something painfully clear:
You don’t get to skip accountability because you’re “high vibe.”
You don’t get to ghost people and call it “protecting your energy.”
You don’t get to emotionally manipulate folks and say, “Spirit told me to.”

Mysticism is about alignment, not ego cosplay. It asks you to examine your impact, your shadows, your habits, and how your presence affects others. Not just to post selfies next to your altar like, “Saging away toxic people.”

If everyone in your life is “low vibration,” maybe you’re not ascending, maybe you’re just insufferable.

Signs You’ve Mistaken Mysticism for a Personality

Let’s check in. A little self-diagnosis never hurt anyone

You might be spiritually intolerable if:

You answer simple questions with “Well, it’s all an illusion anyway.”

You think small talk is beneath you unless it involves star charts.

You’re incapable of being wrong because “that’s not my truth.”

You’ve replaced your emotional regulation skills with moon phases.

You can’t take a joke. Especially about your gods.

Pro tip: If your spiritual identity can’t survive a little satire, it’s a defense mechanism.

What Actually Makes a Person Spiritually Magnetic?

Not the robe. Not the ritual skills. Not the Saturn placement you won’t shut up about.

It’s:

Compassion. Real, inconvenient, unsexy compassion.

Curiosity instead of certainty.

A willingness to not know and still show up.

The ability to laugh at yourself mid-invocation.

Knowing when to shut up and hold space for someone else’s experience.

Mysticism isn’t about being right, it’s about being real. The more you drop the performance, the more potent your presence becomes.

You’re Not Here to Be Worshipped, You’re Here to Be Transformed

The real magic happens when you step off the stage and into the dirt. When you remember that every god you invoke is older, weirder, and wiser than your ego. No number of past-life memories can replace the value of showing up fully in this one.

Your incense doesn’t matter if your pride chokes the room. Your sigils won’t save you from your own unexamined projections. Your aesthetic won’t keep you warm when your relationships rot from the inside out.

Be the mystic and the mess. Be the priestess and the person who forgets the offering and has to apologize to their altar like it’s a pissed-off roommate.

That’s the work. That’s the magick.

Be Spiritual, Not Special

Here’s the truth bomb with extra glitter…you’re not special because you’re mystical. You’re special because you exist; messy, beautiful, contradictory and all. The next time you find yourself tempted to perform your path like it’s a monologue from a witchy soap opera, ask yourself:

Am I sharing my truth… or performing for approval?

Am I embodying my practice… or using it to hide?

Am I here to impress people… or connect with them?

When you drop the performance, something better arrives:

Presence.
Power.
People who don’t cross the street when they see you coming.