I didn’t want to believe anything bad about Deepak Chopra.

Not because I think spiritual leaders are infallible, and not because I’m naïve about power — but because part of me still wants to believe that years of inner work, meditation, reflection, and teaching might amount to something morally clarifying. Or at least morally protective.

When my sister sent me Scott W. Mills’ Substack piece about Chopra and Epstein, my first response was disbelief. A tightening. A quiet surely not. Not another one.

https://drscottwmills.substack.com/p/the-silence-inside-the-chopra-epstein

But what really shifted things for me wasn’t just the article itself.

It was what I hadn’t been considering at all.

The silence.

At least twenty-one well-known figures with enormous platforms — and likely many more — who have said nothing. No acknowledgement. No reckoning. No refusal.

And instead of sliding into despair about fallen idols, I found myself asking a far more uncomfortable question:

Where am I in all of this?

We shouldn’t be shocked (but I am)

Intellectually, we know this story.

Since time began, religious and spiritual leaders have raped, sodomised, murdered, plundered, exploited. Power wrapped in holiness has always been dangerous. There has always been a dissonance between moral teaching and moral behaviour.

Watch 1923 and you’ll see it plainly: sermons alongside brutality, piety alongside violence. None of this is new.

And yet — I am shocked.

Because some part of me still wants to believe that meditation, yoga, inner work — the practices I love and teach — might sharpen ethical courage rather than dull it. Might make people more willing to refuse proximity to harm.

Clearly, that protection is not guaranteed.

The message that stopped me

After I shared my initial reaction, my sister replied. Her words are what really lodged in me — and what prompted this piece.

She said she felt the same about “the heavy marketing, the back-slapping, the constant cross-promotion.” That it had made her uneasy for a long time. She’d spent the last six months listening to many of these figures’ podcasts and loved them — and yet, once the machinery becomes visible, integrity often feels compromised somewhere along the line.

She said she wouldn’t want that kind of leadership or responsibility. That it must be incredibly hard. And then she asked the question that stayed with me:

How many people will really risk their money and reputation to speak out about someone else?

That question — more than anything — is what sent me inward.

The ripples don’t stop neatly

I’m part of a meditation group run by davidji, who ran the Chopra Center for ten years. He must have known Chopra well. They worked closely. They built something together.

I’m not making accusations.
I’m not claiming knowledge I don’t have.

But this is how these things work. The repercussions don’t stay contained. They ripple outward — into communities, into students, into teachers, into practices themselves.

Suddenly it’s not just about them.
It’s about all of us who learn, teach, and pass things on.

Selling, visibility, and where I draw the line

I’ve always been uncomfortable with marketing and self-promotion. It put me off Joe Dispenza three quarters of the way through reading 'Becoming Supernatural' — not because the ideas weren’t interesting but because the marketing became to in my face.

I’ve always hated selling. Even selling what I genuinely believe in. Even when I know the practice can be transformative.

And the uncomfortable truth is this: if you want anyone to find you at all, you can’t avoid visibility completely. Classes don’t fill themselves. Retreats don’t magically appear in people’s lives.

So the ethical question isn’t whether you market.
It’s how — and at what cost.

The questions I hold myself to

These are the questions I come back to again and again:

Do I claim authority I don’t have?
As a new yoga teacher, probably yes — in hindsight. Not now.

Do I promise transformation I can’t guarantee?
No. Transformation comes from consistency and commitment. I’m not a magician. I can guide, support, and hold space — but I can’t make it happen for someone.

And a new one, sharpened by everything I’ve been sitting with lately:

Would I be willing to lose income rather than lie — or stay silent?

And the answer to that, without hesitation, is yes.

I don’t want a spirituality that depends on silence, proximity to power, or reputation management. I don’t want transformation sold as certainty or enlightenment as a brand.

I want work that stays human, accountable, and answerable — where integrity matters more than reach.

No pedestals left intact

My sister added something else that mattered: it’s still possible to take what you know to be good and leave the rest. We don’t have to throw everything away because something is broken.

Absolutism is part of the problem too.
The moment spirituality becomes purity, identity, or moral superiority, we’re already on dangerous ground.

Maybe this is the real work — not finding better heroes, but learning to live without pedestals.

To take what is good without surrendering discernment.
To practise without pretending immunity.
To stay alert to power, money, and silence — including our own.

This hasn’t given me neat answers.
But it has clarified the ground I want to stand on.

And yes — it completely ruined the day.