Since childhood, I have learned to live through the strength of the spirit. When I was four, my father taught me to meditate by looking at a small yellow flower. I paid attention to every detail, then imagined sitting in its centre and becoming one with it. This playful guided visualisation came naturally to me and gave me an experience of unity.
As a child, I felt strongly that a life force sustained everything, and that everything was alive and interconnected. Some of my games grew from that feeling. I would float face down in the sea, briefly holding my breath to experience the water, or breathe with the movement of clouds as I watched their shapes change and dissolve. Contact with nature has always been central to my spiritual path. Many traditions describe us as spiritual beings having a human experience.
I also experienced the illness and death of my seven-year-old cousin. She and her sister were my companions in games and mischief. I remember seeing her shortly before she died and sensing an intense transformation, something greater than the physical body. In the days around her death, I felt connected to a higher force. There was fear and sadness, but also deep respect for the mystery of life and death, and feelings of love and peace.
Learning to observe my mind
During my rebellious teenage years, my father took me to a Zen meditation session. At the time it felt like torture and a waste of time. Sitting in silence, I could not find the calm I had so easily experienced with the flower, the sea and the clouds.
At fifteen, I was critical of the system and distressed by injustice. I had self-destructive tendencies and sought extreme experiences. Then I discovered Krishnamurti’s The First and Last Freedom in my father’s library. I recognised his questioning of authoritarian political, religious, economic and educational beliefs. He invited me to observe my own thinking and recognise how much of what I criticised in the world was also happening within me.
Early experiments with drugs and alcohol, which I also stopped early, taught me how what I consume affects my body, mind and perception. Food, what I put on my skin, what I see and hear, and the environments around me all influence this complex system through which I receive and process information.
Art, Andean and Amazonian ancestral knowledge, and sacred medicinal plants also shaped my path. Through these experiences, I came to understand life as extending beyond what is visible, and to feel a connection with ancestors, rivers, forests, animals and plants. I learned from my paternal grandmother, Indigenous warmi curays, and especially my mother, whose spirituality is expressed through patience and unconditional generosity.
A daily Kundalini Yoga practice
In 2005 I discovered Kundalini Yoga and began practising every day. That daily practice gradually affected every part of my life. My body no longer accepted the taste of meat, cigarettes or alcohol. Without anyone telling me what to do, and without moral judgement, I became more selective about what I consumed.
The change in my energy and motivation was remarkable to me. I was fascinated that I could experience it through the resources of my own body. Friends said I looked taller as my posture changed, my chest opened and my spine became more aligned. I also gained flexibility and learned to relax more deeply.
As I noticed these changes, practice became a daily priority. For perhaps the first time, I understood discipline as something arising from my own needs, rather than from an authority figure or a rigid rule. It helped me meet life’s challenges.
Working with my breath and body made it easier to follow Krishnamurti’s invitation to stop identifying with the constant movement of thought. Meditation supported a process of psychological healing, and I again experienced the silence and unity I had known as a child.
Sharing the strength of the spirit
The strength of my spirit has sustained me through heartbreak, abuse, difficult relationships, pain, loss and illness. It has also supported the creation of artistic, educational and social projects.
Life continues to bring challenges. Allowing its force to move through my existence helps me loosen my identification with thoughts, emotions and personal stories. Experiences can then become opportunities to learn and grow.
An authentic spiritual path helps us become more ourselves, face life with courage, and take responsibility for our peace and wellbeing without giving our power away to other people or circumstances. This connection enables us to share our gifts with the world.
Each person’s path is mysterious, unique, intimate and sacred. We must each take responsibility for our own journey, yet we never travel alone. A path that serves only ourselves loses its meaning.
We may describe the spiritual as separate from the physical because we need words to understand experience. But when you remember significant moments in your life, you may recognise your spirit within them. For me, Kundalini Yoga offers a way to relate to the world from that perspective while valuing our human experience. Sharing these teachings is part of my work.
