How can we deal with doubts that come from our bad experiences with our previous spiritual teachers?

Answer Podcast

How can we deal with doubts that arise from bad experiences with past spiritual teachers?

If we develop an early sense of ego shaped by difficult experiences—such as being hurt by corrupt spiritual leaders—even when we try to deconstruct that ego, it can feel like we’re only making things worse. That’s a tough place to be. In fact, it can be one of the hardest challenges to face.

Generally, if we are attacked by a thief on the street, that’s bad. But if a friend steals from us, it’s worse. Now imagine someone from the police—who is supposed to protect us—stealing from us. That would be the worst. Similarly, spiritual teachers are meant to guide us toward truth and healing. So when they act wrongly or exploit others, the harm they cause is deeply personal and devastating.

In some of my recent online podcasts, I’ve been discussing the institutionalization of spirituality and how that often leads to problems. One metaphor I like to use is that of a river.

Every river begins as a trickle—perhaps from melting snow or a few small streams—and as it flows, it gathers strength, eventually forming a riverbed. This bed helps guide the water toward the ocean. Similarly, our spiritual urge may begin as a small desire for truth. When others with similar desires come together, they form communities—sharing resources to support each other’s journey. That’s like the water forming a stream, then a river. The riverbed is like the institution—providing structure and support.

However, the danger is that some people build dams—not to help the water reach the ocean, but to redirect it for their own purposes. In the same way, individuals in positions of spiritual authority might manipulate institutional structures for personal gain—power, prestige, control. They’re not interested in the spiritual flow; they’re interested in what they can take from it.

So we need to clearly differentiate between the river and the riverbed. The institution can help—but it’s not the essence. The essence is the flow of sincere spiritual aspiration. Institutions should support that flow, not divert or control it.

Understanding this helps us step back and say, “Yes, what happened to me was painful. But my spiritual journey is still valid. My essence—my soul—is untouched.” We may carry scars from the past, but those scars don’t define us. We may have to live with pain, but we don’t have to live in pain.

Another way to put it: we are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it.

Let me give a further example. When we relate to others, if we’re too naïve and assume everyone is good, we will eventually be disappointed or betrayed. That can shatter us. But in response, we might swing to the other extreme—thinking everyone is bad, and never trusting again.

This shift from naivety to cynicism is like a pendulum swinging too far. Cynicism may protect us from further betrayal, but it also isolates us. Our hearts grow cold. So we need to find a balanced middle: healthy skepticism. This means not blindly trusting everyone, but also not dismissing everyone.

What is this middle ground? It’s the belief that everyone deserves the opportunity to earn trust. Not immediate trust—but a fair chance. I wouldn’t want someone to distrust me right away, and neither would you. So let’s offer others a fair chance, while being wise and observant.

Sometimes, when we’re betrayed, the worst part isn’t what others did—it’s how we start doubting ourselves. “How could I fall for that? How did I not see the warning signs?” Betrayal can shake not just our faith in others but also in our own judgment. That’s understandable. But again, that’s the pendulum swinging too far.

So, let’s use our intelligence. Let’s relate to people on their merit. Let’s remember: just as others deserve a chance to earn trust, we also deserve that chance—especially from ourselves. We may have misjudged in the past, but we can learn and grow. We don’t want fear to paralyze us.

Let me end with a final point. In the physical world, if we injure a part of our body, that area may remain vulnerable even after healing. We need to be cautious with it. But in our inner world, something beautiful can happen. The part of us that was wounded can become the part where we grow strongest—not immune to pain, but rich in empathy, authenticity, and compassion.

We can allow our pain to become the forge in which purpose is born. The very wound that brought us down can become the channel through which we uplift others.

So by finding a healthy balance—not naïve, not cynical—we can pick ourselves up, reform ourselves, and continue growing on our spiritual path.