Ghosted By Gurus

Bad News: I don’t have anyone to follow. Good News: I became my own map.

I’ve been thinking lately about what happens when all the guides disappear. When the teachers stop answering my questions. When the mentors meander away. When the breadcrumbs you’ve been following just… end.

Maybe it wasn’t abandonment.

Maybe it was just graduation.

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Jesus just blocked me on socials.
The Buddha won’t take my calls.
My letter to Oprah was returned.
Mary went to live behind tall walls.

I’ve been ghosted by my gurus.
I’m a castaway in a quarter zip.
New Age thinks I’ve aged out.
Ancient wisdom says I’m too hip.

I became allergic to my daily bread.
My prayers all get stuck up in the trees.
A priest asked me to invest in bitcoin.
Church has been so hard on my knees.

The Holy Spirit didn’t leave a goodbye note.
The universe asked for her hoodie back.
Leonard Cohen’s ghost looked away.
And Maya Angelou thinks that I’m a hack.

The Bad News is I don’t have anyone to follow.
The Good News is I’ve become my own map.
There are no breadcrumbs leading to heaven.
There are only wild trees dripping holy sap.

I won’t be alone here in the endless woods.
Because here will be my most favorite part:
I’ll sit and listen to hungry fish bite at dawn
As God fly fishes in the river of my heart.

~ john roedel

(Art by Dupenvant)

There’s a line from Kae Tempest’s song “Grace” that runs underneath everything I do:

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. But if you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”

That’s what these writing retreats are about.

It’s not worrying about becoming a better writer or excavating trauma for a performance.

We don’t spend time crafting the perfect essay.

Just bringing it forth.

Whatever’s been sitting inside you ~ silent, unnamed, waiting.

The thing you’ve been carrying alone because you thought no one else would understand.

We write to survive. Not to publish. Not to impress anyone.

To survive.

Because what stays trapped inside doesn’t just sit there quietly. It calcifies. It poisons. It convinces you that you’re the only one who feels this way.

In 2026, I’m hosting writing retreats in Arizona, Madeline Island, Alaska, Santa Fe, Italy, and California. Also some offerings exist online.

We slow down enough to hear ourselves again. We tell stories without needing them to be impressive.

We write without needing it to be good. We sit in silence when words aren’t the answer. We let things unfold without rushing toward resolution.

Nothing has to be shared. Nothing has to be dramatic. You don’t have to perform your pain or your healing.

What people tell me afterward:

They remember what their voice sounds like.

They stop waiting for permission to tell the truth.

They leave feeling less alone in their own skin.

Most of my retreats fill quickly….not because I’m good at marketing (I’m not), but because people who’ve been feel safe enough to come back, and they tell others.

If you’ve been thinking about it, don’t wait too long. Spaces go fast, and I only do this a handful of times a year.

All the details: