Kundalini yoga is one of the oldest practices on earth. It's written into the Upanishads nearly three thousand years ago, and for most of its life it was never taught openly. It passed from teacher to student, one at a time, behind closed doors. Kings had it. Priests had it. The people who ran things had it, and they kept it close, because a practice that can change how a person feels from the inside out is a powerful thing to hold.
It wasn't taught publicly in the West until 1969. Which means most of the women reading this are the first in their family line to ever be handed it.
People call it the yoga of awareness. I call it the fastest thing I've found in twenty years of teaching, and I've tried nearly everything.
It works like this. There's a store of energy at the base of your spine. In most of us it's been sat there, coiled and dormant, our whole lives, while we managed the anxiety and the not-enough and the 3am with our heads.
Kundalini uses breath, movement, mantra and stillness, in a set sequence called a kriya, to wake that energy up and move it, centre by centre, up the spine. As it moves, it clears what's in the way. That's the bit that feels like magic: the jaw unclenching, the tears you didn't know were there, the first full breath you've taken in years. It isn't magic. It's mechanics, and it's three thousand years old.
Therapy talks to your mind. This talks to your nervous system directly, in the only language it actually understands, which is the body.
That's why it reaches what nothing else could, and why women who've spent thousands on therapy tell us this was the thing that finally moved.
