Doubting in the Desert

Painting by Benjamin Sjberg

One of the great curses—and blessings—of an abusive, unstable childhood is that you have to build your own ego from scratch. For me, the soul was hidden under layers of hurt. It didn’t know how to express itself, and every attempt to let it out seemed to lead to more pain. So, I did what any kid does in survival mode: I created a survival-based ego. It was a construct of necessity, not authenticity, and it was never truly me.

The weird blessing of this? No one told me who I was. Unlike kids who grow up in protected, stable environments—with their identities handed to them like a pre-packaged lunch—I had to create myself. Every piece of me, stitched together with grit and imagination. But that blessing comes with a cruel twist: If you ever decide to free your soul and let your Core Self guide your life, you’ll have to kill that ego. The very structure that kept you alive now has to die. And let me tell you, ego death isn’t some floaty “enlightenment” buzzword. It’s messy, raw, and extraordinarily painful. Most people don’t do it. Why would they? They cling to the survival hologram, polishing it with status, stability, and social conditioning. The world rewards them for it.

Sigmund Freud’s definition of the ego, as a mediator between the id and the superego, is too narrow. It assumes that the ego is static, a psychological component locked in perpetual conflict. But humans are evolutionary beings. Our sense of self can—and must—adapt to changing circumstances. When survival is at stake, the ego becomes a tool for enduring pain and navigating chaos. But when survival gives way to living, that same ego can become a prison. For those of us forged in instability, the challenge is to reshape the ego so it serves our higher purpose, not our fears.

But if you’re called (and we all are) to take the wrecking ball to your self-made ego, something incredible starts to happen. Slowly, painfully, a new ego forms. This one’s different. It’s not a fortress. It’s a servant. It works for the soul. And while that sounds poetic, it’s also terrifying. This new ego comes with its own curse: self-doubt. Not the kind of insecurity that comes from the survival-ego—the desperate need for validation or the fear of rejection. No, this is deeper. It’s the nagging sense that you don’t belong, that you’re walking an alien path in a world obsessed with consumption and distraction.

2024 has been, by far, the most mentally healthy year I’ve ever had. Yet I am also in the midst of this self-doubt. I find myself questioning everything: my decisions, my identity, my ability to function in a linear, profit-driven world. I’m convinced this is why so many people retreat to monasteries or hermitages at this stage. The urge to opt out (or maybe its opt in to the illusion), to say, “Fuck it” is strong. Call it stubbornness or defiance, but I believe—I have to believe—that it’s possible to thrive in the material world with a soul-guided ego.

This brings me to capitalism. A lot of spiritual thinkers write it off as inherently low-conscious, a system driven by greed and exploitation. And sure, it’s easy to see why. But I think that is too often just an excuse. That said, I believe capitalism is a riddle, not a formula. It’s not about abandoning the system nor surrendering to it; it’s about engaging with it differently. Capitalism, at its core, is just an exchange of value. It can be destructive or generative depending on how we approach it. The survival-ego uses capitalism to hoard and dominate. The soul-guided ego uses it to create, to serve, to bring something beautiful and meaningful into the world.

This is where I think a lot of artists and creators find themselves. Trying to bridge the mystical and the material. To make cool shit, to make money, but not at the expense of their souls. It’s a razor-thin line to walk. Or maybe there’s no line at all - just steps into empty space with a shaky belief that footing will be found. But I’ve also learned to see that self-doubt as a kind of compass. It’s a message: “You’re on the right track.” Doubt means I’m not coasting. It means I’m questioning, striving, evolving. Still, it’s scary as hell. There’s always the temptation to slip back into the old survivor-ego. To pick up that mask of apathy and blend in with the world.

“The greater the artist, the greater the doubt. Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize." - Robert Hughes

In nearly every spiritual tradition, the desert is the in-between place—a space where illusions, arrogance, and false securities are stripped away. It is a crucible of transformation, where the new ego is born. Jesus fasted and faced temptation in the desert, rejecting the easy path to power in favor of a higher purpose. Moses wandered for forty years, his people purging the remnants of slavery from their minds and hearts before reaching the Promised Land. Mohammed meditated in the desert caves, receiving divine revelations that would shape the spiritual destiny of millions. The boy in Paulo Coelho’s legendary tale, The Alchemist, also journeys through the desert, chasing a treasure he believes will fulfill him, only to find that the desert itself is his teacher. It strips him of his illusions, forcing him to listen to the wind, the silence, and his own heart. In the desert, the self is purified—not punished—so it can become an instrument of something greater. The desert, in all these stories, reminds us that growth demands a shedding of ego and an embrace of the raw, unvarnished truth. It is not a place of despair but of profound possibility, where transformation becomes inevitable for those brave enough to endure it.

This metaphor of a desert is comforting some days. Other days, its just intellectual noise, and I’m left staring down the raw truth of my own fear. The fear that I’ll never fully integrate this soul-guided ego into a world that doesn’t seem to have much use for it. But then I remember: The world doesn’t have to understand. The world is full of survival-ego holograms. They’re doing their job. My job is different.

This isn’t a pity party. I don’t want sympathy for walking this path. I chose it. And honestly, the reward is worth the pain. Because when you’re guided by your soul, life gets clearer. The noise of external validation fades. You start to see through the bullshit. You start to trust your own voice. And yeah, that voice might sound weird to the world, but it’s yours. It’s real.

So here I am, in this strange, liminal desert space. Still accompanied by self-doubt, still tempted by the old survival-ego, but also deeply committed to this soul-led life. Some days, it feels like a dance. Other days, it feels like a battle. But every step forward reminds me that I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m creating. And that’s something no survival-ego could ever do. I am also deeply grateful for a partner and friends on a similar path. There’s a kind of edification and fellowship in these relationships that I never had earlier in life.

To anyone else on this path: Stay defiant. Let the self-doubt come. Let it gnaw at you. But don’t let it win. Keep walking. Keep creating. The world needs more people who’ve made peace with their souls, even if it doesn’t know it yet. And if you ever feel like giving up, just remember: You’re not alone. We’re out here, too, navigating this wild, beautiful, terrifying journey. Together, we’ll figure it out.