One of the biggest compliments my former boss and the chief editor of the broadcasting station I used to work for has ever extended to me was: “You know why I hired you? Because you have equally little respect to any one.” I burst in laughter when I heard that and almost spat my coffee in his face. But it’s true – even though I would put it in slightly different words: I respect any being equally. Obviously it is just a diverse perspective to looking at the same thing but it does make a difference. I later quit. Not because of this little verbal exchange, but because it just did not feel right anymore. What would be coming next – I didn’t have a clue.
What I noticed again and again when working as a journalist and later documentary filmmaker: No matter if at a diplomatic reception in Berlin, in a Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon, in the jungles of South-America or all around India between slums and fancy beach clubs – so many of us humans for some reason seem to have the desire to create suffering for ourselves. Same same – anywhere in the world – just in different colours. Is this really necessary?, I was wondering. Can’t we use the same creative power to bring a world of joy and contentment into being?
My – what they call – healing journey began with Yoga. The capacity of Yoga to open you up to higher consciousness is really incredible. They did not tell me in the world of Western-style Yoga studios with mirrors and colourful leggings which I loved to visit – even though they certainly knew. I don’t blame them, I was certainly just not yet ready to hear. Yoga is pure magic. Each traditional asana works like a key to unlock the door into so much higher knowledge and awareness. You bring yourself into the pose and sooner or later, you merge with light. If you were seeking that or not. At least it seemed to have been working for me and slowly slowly I got more receptive for the more subtle realms – as I have gotten aware of only much later.
I was able to expand the confines of what has been my reality so far quite a bit more when I first got in contact with shamanic practices of medicine people from the South American jungles and mountains. Praying to Grandfather Fire, singing to Mother Water, not only talking to the Spirits of Plants but also understanding how to listen to their answers and dancing with my Ancestors the Stars – all of this might have been known to my foremothers and -fathers around the Carpathian Mountains, but it certainly got either lost or neglected until my eyes were open enough to recognise the treasure chest of wisdom in my roots. It almost felt like I got the chance to reconnect with something unknown I was missing about myself and for which I was longing when I started traveling to Ecuador and Colombia embarking on an apprenticeship with the wisdom of the Earth.
When opening their home on their magical land of Zhuracpamba to me, my teachers and dear friends Taita Juan Alejo Valdivieso and his wife Sabine Cihuatlcoat Hertwig have also opened my heart, my voice and the gateway to getting in touch with what is invisible to the eye. The echo of this deep wisdom of simplicity has firmly anchored in my being. What a blessing that the family has kept the legacy of their sacred lands alive against all odds, conquerers, persecution and lately capitalisation. Like so many other wisdomkeepers, they have been waiting for the time when humankind is ready to remember how to live life in peace with all brother and sister beings of the same Mother Earth. And I want t believe the time has come.
Funnily, wanting to teach Yoga has never been a thing for me even though I had already practiced it with great dedication for way over a decade – until I got in contact with Traditional Tantra Yoga. When I finally found the way to this tradition it felt like coming home – so strong was the resonance. I remember when listening to my first teacher’s words about the feminine approach of Traditional Tantra Yoga, my heart was beating and I almost felt a choir of my spiritual ancestors clapping their hands in applause for I have finally found the way back to my lineage. Yes, I do have a Leo moon. The coming home felt glorious. Like a coming home after a long, long time. And then realising that I had ever been gone.
At that point I had already spent two years in India, walking around the sacred mountain of Arunachala in Tiruvanamalai for months, sitting at Sri Ramana Maharshi’s Samadhi Shrine inquiring my Self “Who am I?” – and who not – praying to Lord Shiva to burn away all Karma and all those unnecessary thought patterns, behaviours and beliefs that don’t serve me anymore. Just to finally receive the guidance to start driving around India’s post locked down countryside in my modified Omni van, hundreds of kilometres all along the Western Ghats, immersing myself in the spirit and wisdom of the village’s heart spaces. At the end, it felt like some kind of act of osmosis. Maybe this has been my apprenticeship with Spirit.
At the moment, I am based in the South of Goa, India, bringing it all together and sharing it. Blessed to be part of a vibrant community of dreamers and creators, living between the ancient mountain ranges of the Western Ghats – home to indigenous tribes and an incredibly rich nature with magical animals like leopards, bisons, cobras, bears, panthers, eagles, butterflies and so many more creatures – and the luscious beaches along the Arabian Sea home to Dolphins, turtles and so much fish, with mangroves and trees of cashews, jackfruits, banana, mango and coconut lining the cost. While tourism is changing many things here in a dizzying pace and neighbours sometimes live many centuries apart, they are still everywhere: gateways into a world of everyday magic. Traditional temple bhajans, full moon rituals in ancient caves or the weekly women processions are just some of my clues to trace the past into the future.
This is where you can find me. Between Father Sky and Mother Earth, practicing to embody being it both – matter and spirit, light and dark. This is what I practice. This is what I teach. Welcome to Salon Cosmiq.
