WALK AWAY: ESCAPE THE ETERNAL LEASH

“Walk away from religion, it's designed to use you for 7 generations.

Run away as fast as you can from spirituality, it's designed to use you for 36,000 years.”

INTRODUCTION

Human beings are born free — but from the moment we speak, we are taught how to serve.

Not serve one another, but to serve the system of belief.

Religion grabs your body.

Spirituality grabs your soul.

Both offer peace, but at the cost of your present.

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1. RELIGION: A CONTRACT YOUR GRANDPARENTS SIGNED FOR YOU

Religions don’t start with you. They start before you.

Your name. Your dress. Your diet. Your festivals. Your wedding. Your funeral.

All borrowed. All coded. All inherited.

Religious guilt is transgenerational.

One missed ritual, one questioned belief — and they say, “You’ve cursed the bloodline.”

Religion uses you as a conveyor belt for myths, fears, and submission.

It is less about your soul, more about institutional memory.

> Your grandparents lit the lamp.

You light the lamp.

Your child will light the lamp.

No one asks: Why is the room still dark?

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2. SPIRITUALITY: THE SUGAR-COATED ETERNAL TRAP

You escape religion and think you’re free.

Then comes spirituality: soft-spoken, incense-scented, mind-massaging poison.

Now you’re told you’re a “soul in evolution.”

You’ve lived 84 lakh lives, you’re “burning karma,” you’re “ascending slowly.”

It doesn’t punish. It delays.

It doesn’t judge you. It extends your homework to the next 36,000 years.

> “Be patient.”

“This life is just one step.”

“You’re learning to transcend.”

Meanwhile, the present life — this actual chance to be alive, alert, loving — is flushed into the sewer of reincarnation theories and cosmic ladders.

Spirituality doesn’t want your surrender.

It wants your eternity.

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3. THE LANGUAGE OF CAPTURE

Religion: “Obey. Sacrifice. Preserve.”

Spirituality: “Transcend. Purify. Progress.”

Truth: Breathe. Watch. Walk away.

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4. WHY IT FEELS SO COMFORTABLE

Because both religion and spirituality say:

> “You are special — but broken.”

“You are powerful — but not yet.”

“You are divine — but not ready.”

“Trust us to prepare you.”

You are kept in eternal debt.

To gods you didn’t choose.

To chakras you can’t feel.

To scriptures you’ve never questioned.

To lifetimes you have no memory of.

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5. THE ESCAPE IS SIMPLE, BUT NOT EASY

Walk away.

Not angrily. Not to prove anything.

Just walk away like you would leave a house that no longer shelters — only controls.

Burn no books.

Argue with no one.

Convert no one.

Just stop kneeling.

Stop chanting.

Stop seeking.

Return to the real.

This breath.

This food.

This pain.

This love.

This soil.

This is the only life that needs you.

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CONCLUSION

Religion wants you to be good for the family.

Spirituality wants you to be pure for the universe.

But the truth wants nothing from you.

It only wants you to be here — not recycled, not reborn, not redeemed.

Just alive, for once, without a leash.

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RUN, KID, RUN

they said god loves you

but he needs your loyalty

and cash.

they said you’re already free

but here’s 7,000 rules

and a hell waiting for dessert.

they said your ancestors were holy

but somehow their blood

is still begging in the same corner of the street.

they gave me chants

and chains,

scriptures and side-effects.

and i knelt.

i folded my hands.

i said thank you for the pain.

i said maybe i’m not pure enough.

maybe next life.

maybe next birth.

maybe next curse.

then i met a monk

who said

“you’re not this body, brother.”

and i thought,

wow, that’s a sexy con.

he had silence

and sandalwood

and a sponsor deal with eternity.

his hell had no fire,

but his heaven had no exit either.

he said

“trust the process.”

i said

“what process?”

he said

“this one. your soul's journey.”

i said

“i just wanted peace. not paperwork.”

but it was too late.

i was already

three lives deep in karma debt

with zero interest and

a million rebirths to go.

they gave me white robes

instead of guilt.

they gave me crystals

instead of curses.

they gave me waiting

instead of whipping.

same leash.

just perfumed.

but one night

i looked in the mirror

and saw a beggar

wearing holy clothes

still begging for love,

still begging for peace,

still begging for a seat

in somebody’s heaven.

and i said

f*** it.

i dropped the beads,

burned the books,

and walked out

naked into a dirty, laughing, coughing,

hungry world.

and for the first time,

it didn’t try to fix me.

it just let me walk.

and i walked

without mantras,

without masters,

without metaphysics.

i ate.

i slept.

i built a hut.

i made soup.

i loved a woman

who didn’t ask about my aura.

and the sky didn’t punish me.

and the wind didn’t demand my devotion.

and the trees didn’t need a temple.

i just breathed.

and that was god enough.

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