A Personal Introduction

My last blog post was more of an introduction — now it gets personal.

How did I actually come to Kundalini Activation? Like many profound new beginnings, mine started with an emotional crisis: the separation from my partner.

This breakup didn’t feel like a simple goodbye. It felt like a real loss. Like a moment when all the future visions and shared dreams no longer exist —and you’re left creating an entirely new life path, without a plan or orientation.

When regulation becomes essential

The pain of the breakup was so intense that during the first week I could barely eat. I had no energy to cook, no strength to tidy up, or to take care of everyday tasks. But one thing was very clear to me: I needed to regulate myself.

With things that generally support me. Meeting friends. Movement. Exercise. Yoga.

When a close friend told me that he practices Kundalini, I honestly had no real idea what that meant. Kundalini Activation meant nothing to me — I simply associated it with yoga. One week after the breakup, I went to a workshop with him.

I arrived there in tears. My crying was almost uncontrollable. There was so much grief inside me that it was no longer just about the relationship. Everything surfaced that I had suppressed for years. And I no longer had the strength to hold any of it back. That was what made this phase so heavy.

Skepticism, trust — and the point of “it couldn’t get any worse”

At the beginning, we were introduced to what Kundalini Activation is about. I was skeptical. At the same time, I trusted my friend and thought to myself: I’ll try it.

It couldn’t really get any worse. At that point, my life felt as if I had failed — as if I was losing everything. What else could possibly happen?

There were about ten participants in the room. Some knew what to expect, others — like me — didn’t really know at all. After the introduction, there was a demonstration to show what might happen during a session.

One person lay down on the floor, took a few deep breaths, and then the music started. And suddenly their body began to move — sometimes rhythmically, sometimes completely uncontrolled.

Every alarm bell inside me went on. My first thought was: “Shit, where have I ended up? This is some kind of hocus-pocus.”

It looked staged, unreal. I had never seen anything like it before. At the same time, I thought: This doesn’t concern me anyway. I don’t really believe in this kind of thing.

The moment the body takes over

Then we lay down on the floor ourselves, and the music began. The demonstration had completely left my mind in that moment. I was fully inside my pain and cried almost continuously.

Not because the music was objectively sad, but because it touched the exact inner spaces that were already open inside me.

And then my body began to move. Just like that. Without conscious control.

I didn’t understand what was happening, but I thought: “It doesn’t matter. Let it happen.”

I moved intensely and cried for almost the entire hour — and after that hour, something had changed.

A state that doesn’t need to be explained

I felt calm. Warm. Held. At peace — with myself and with my surroundings.

I observed this state without judging it. And the more time passed, the clearer it became: I was no longer sad.

Instead, I felt connected. To the people around me, to this earth. I no longer felt alone, but part of something larger — like a root embedded in a living ecosystem.

This feeling wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to me. I had known it from other spiritual experiences or from times when I lived very simply in nature. And by “nature,” I don’t mean weekend trips outdoors, but a truly reduced life: little possession, a place to sleep, clothes, food. Very basic.

Aftereffects in everyday life

When the event ended and I walked home, I felt a clear shift. I was happy — the complete opposite of the version of myself who had arrived there.

I looked toward the horizon and felt peace and belonging. In my neighborhood, I first went into a grocery store. I remember vividly how heightened my senses were — the colors of the vegetables, the smells — everything felt intense and alive.

At home, I saw the chaos in my apartment, which I hadn’t left for days. Things were scattered everywhere. And I thought: “No. This is not who I am anymore.”

I put on music and started cleaning — with a joy that felt like I wasn’t just organizing my apartment, but my life. I kept laughing at this almost absurd experience.

Even the food from the day before suddenly tasted incredible — as if I were in a gourmet restaurant.

This state of euphoria, energy, and inner peace lasted for about twelve hours. After that, the sadness returned — but it was lighter, less overwhelming.

The honest part: it wasn’t always easy

I began attending Kundalini Activations regularly — every two weeks or once a month. I noticed that I was able to process the breakup emotionally more quickly.

But I didn’t always feel well after a session. Sometimes depressive phases followed, in which I stayed in bed for days.

I didn’t ignore these states. I observed them, wrote things down, reflected. It became clear to me that there were deeper issues causing pain.

I explored them through coaching, alongside psychotherapy — not to “function,” but to avoid carrying unresolved patterns into my next relationship or other areas of life.

I wanted to be free.

The combination of Kundalini Activation, coaching, and therapy significantly accelerated this process. At the same time, I wanted not only to experience Kundalini, but to understand it — and to integrate it responsibly into my own work.

That’s how my path toward training as a Kundalini Facilitator began.

Conclusion

Today I know this: integration after a Kundalini Activation is essential. The session itself is not the actual process — what matters is everything that comes afterward.

Through Kundalini, themes can surface that you are ready to look at more deeply in that moment. This can be relieving — but it can also be challenging.

That is exactly why I believe this process should not be approached in isolation. Depending on the topic, coaching or psychotherapy can be a meaningful and necessary support. For me, the greatest strength lies in the connection of both worlds: physical and energetic experience on one side, conscious reflection and psychological integration on the other.

The path I’ve described here is deeply personal and individual. Every Kundalini Activation is experienced differently. Some people encounter very little emotional processing, while others go very deep. Some themes appear immediately, others not at all — or only much later.

This story is mine.

It is not a benchmark and not a promise.

In the next blog post, I will intentionally step away from personal experience and explore how Kundalini Activation is viewed from a scientific and psychological perspective — objectively, soberly, and without spiritual overstatement.

Because real responsibility begins where experience is not mystified, but placed into context.

If this perspective resonates with you and you’d like to understand more about responsible integration of Kundalini Activation, feel free to subscribe to my newsletter. There, I share further reflections, context, and upcoming blog posts.