The Open Chronicle of “Mentorship”

This is a living, breathing rant. New entries will appear whenever the grand theatre of modern “Mentorship – Awake Enlightened Souls” offers fresh absurdities. Sit tight—the saga writes itself.

Welcome to the golden age of “mentorship,” where anyone armed with Wi-Fi, a semi-functional webcam, and the confidence of a Victorian hypnotist can proclaim themselves a spiritual guru. A “higher being.” A self-declared enlightened soul who claims expertise on absolutely everything: life, death, the universe, your chakras, and naturally, your finances. 😏

And what a spectacle it is. By the third interminable monologue—good heavens, the droning!—you don’t just feel “spiritually awakened,” you begin to suspect that without their guidance, your very ability to breathe is compromised.

Picture wisdom compressed into the mental equivalent of a granola bar: quick, digestible, vaguely nutritious. Sprinkle over your existential crisis and voilà—instant enlightenment, conveniently packaged.

If enlightenment truly arose from endless rambling while wagging fingers at a webcam, we’d all be Dalai Lamas by now. Those fingers have probably logged more screen time than every daytime soap ever aired—and likely boast a more vibrant social life.

They dart. They point. They wag. They pause. Occasionally, they twitch in ways that suggest they have developed their own personality, perhaps demanding a side hustle and union representation. One cannot help but imagine a clandestine society of rogue index fingers, convening under the cover of darkness to plot the next viral sensation. 🥴