Q: Why do we so often imagine enlightened beings as exalted, hierarchical figures, placed on stages, thrones, or teacher’s seats?
A: Because the ego cannot help but crown what it doesn’t understand.
In both evangelical Christianity and many streams of Eastern mysticism, the enlightened or spiritually “anointed” figure is often placed on a pedestal—sometimes literally. They are seen as above the rest, closer to God, more pure, more powerful. Their words are final. Their image becomes icon. Their life, idealized.
But this is a projection.
The truly awakened being has no interest in being at the top of any spiritual pyramid. In fact, one of the first illusions to dissolve in enlightenment is the very notion of spiritual hierarchy. The awakened one sees that there is no ladder to climb—only veils to fall away.
Q: So what does the life of an enlightened soul actually look like?
A: Quiet. Unattached. Humble to the core. Often invisible.
The awakened soul may have radiant presence, yes—but there is no self-importance in it. No hunger to lead, to dominate, to be revered. If they teach, it is out of overflow, not ambition. If they serve, it is out of love, not strategy.
Humility isn’t a virtue they cultivate—it’s the natural result of seeing clearly that there is no person to be proud of. They live from the ground of being, not the stage of becoming. Nothing to prove. Nothing to defend.
And anonymity—not as concealment, but as freedom from the need to be someone—is often their chosen cloak. They do not chase followers or titles or platforms. Their essence radiates, but they don’t brand it.
The enlightened one might sweep the temple floor, walk in the market unnoticed, laugh with children, or tend to the dying without ever mentioning awakening. This is the paradox: the more real the awakening, the less it needs to be declared.
Q: What happens when a culture turns enlightenment into a hierarchy?
A: It commodifies the sacred—and delays its own freedom.
The moment spiritual realization becomes a rank, a title, or a brand, the ego slips in through the back door. Gurus become gatekeepers. Evangelical pastors become spiritual CEOs. Devotion mutates into dependence. The awakened presence becomes a product to consume rather than a truth to embody.
True awakening doesn’t create elite clubs—it dissolves them. It invites each being into the radical discovery that the same light burns within them. No intermediary required.
Q: So how do we recognize a truly awakened one?
A: By what they don’t need you to see.
They won’t dazzle you with power, though their gaze may stop time.
They won’t advertise enlightenment, though their presence may feel like coming home.
They won’t climb on stages unless pushed by grace—and even then, they’d prefer to leave through the side door.
They don’t point to themselves. They point through themselves.
And if you meet such a one, don’t worship them. Listen.
Not just to their words—but to the silence around them.
It speaks of the truth you’ve always carried.
Epilogue: How to Know the Ones Who’ve Awakened
Not by their robes.
Not by their words.
Not by the number of seekers gathered at their feet.
To meet an enlightened one is not to see something—it is to feel something forgotten awaken inside you.
A stillness enters. The atmosphere thickens with presence. And something in you knows, without knowing how it knows.
They don’t command attention.
They don’t ask to be believed.
They don’t offer you themselves—they offer you yourself, returned.
You may feel joy without cause.
Or grief that finally flows free.
You may feel seen—not for what you’ve done, but for what you are beneath all doing.
They carry no spiritual ambition.
They are not collecting souls or testimonials.
They will not save you—and in this, they free you.
If you ask them who they are, they might not answer.
Not out of mystery, but because they no longer believe in masks.
If they speak, it will be for your liberation, not their reputation.
And if they vanish after lighting your fire—thank them silently.
They were never the source. Only the match.
Addendum: The One Who Walks Unnamed
They passed you once in silence.
You didn’t notice them—not really.
Maybe their eyes lingered a second longer than usual.
Maybe you felt a sudden stillness, as if the air had paused to listen.
But the mind moved on.
You won’t find their teachings on a bestseller list.
You won’t hear them speaking at the summit.
You won’t see their name trending.
But in the quiet places—under trees, in alleys, in the heart of grief—they walk.
Not to be followed.
But to remind you:
There is no distance between the divine and the dust you are made of.
Watch not for crowns.
Listen not for titles.
Feel for the Presence that makes everything else seem like an echo.
The awakened walk beside you.
Unannounced.
And so might you.
Numinous Waves 