I didn't come to Kundalini looking for a practice. I came looking for a way out.
For years I was the high-functioning one — capable on the outside, frozen underneath. Burned out, anxious, and quietly convinced that if I just worked harder I'd finally feel okay. I didn't.
I know what it means to lose everything. I know what it is to have a body locked in pain that no doctor can treat, because the cause was never physical. And I know what a glass ceiling looks like from underneath — the kind that keeps you from breaking through to the next level and stage of your development.
I also know how completely a life can change once you stop managing the surface and start working the patterns underneath — through the body, through meditation.
Kundalini reached the part of me that talking never could.
As early as the first session, I realized things about myself that I hadn't noticed for so many years, and my life was divided into “before” and “after.”
I studied with the first generation of Kundalini teachers — the people who carried this practice west, now scattered across the world and elderly. It's a direct line, and a closing one.
You can only guide someone through what you've walked yourself.
I trained because I had to share it. Now I guide people through the same doorway — gently, without dogma, and without asking you to become anyone other than who you already are.
I don't work with symptoms. I work with the root, and I see the patterns others miss.
I'll show you where you're stuck. And I'll guide you beyond it.