What I Didn’t Expect About Kundalini

I didn’t fully know what Kundalini was when I first encountered it.
I only knew that I’d always felt drawn to things like thi; subtle, unseen, quietly powerful spaces that seemed to hold more than words could.
It wasn’t something I could clearly define, only a quiet pull toward something I felt curious about, something that seemed to live beneath the surface of things.

From the very first session, my body responded before my mind had time to understand what was happening. Movement arose naturally; shaking, soft waves of sensation, as if energy was finding its own way through me, without effort or force.

The visuals that came in that first session were the most vivid.

I found myself in a forest, alongside a woman whose presence felt familiar and steady. Nearby, there was a group of people, a tribal energy, they were playing drums. I felt as though I was dancing, moving with them, connected rather than observing. It wasn’t a performance; it felt instinctive, embodied, lived.

As the journey continued, the scene shifted.
I was standing on a hill beneath a vast sky, stars impossibly large and bright. There was a mountain landscape stretching out before me, and with it came an overwhelming sense of home — not a place I could point to, but a feeling I recognised immediately.

That recognition moved me to tears.

Across sessions, the imagery has continued to shift and soften. Some visuals have been clear and symbolic, others more abstract or fleeting. At times they’ve been difficult to grasp in the moment, but often by the end of a session, or even days later, their meaning has settled quietly, in the body rather than the mind.

What continues to surprise me most is not just what happens during the sessions, but what unfolds afterwards.

The world feels clearer. Brighter. I notice things more easily. I feel more present in myself, more anchored in my body, and more trusting of my inner experience.

Kundalini, for me, has never felt about forcing transformation.
It feels like remembering, gently, rhythmically, what has always been there.

And that remembering happens at its own pace, guided by the body’s innate intelligence.

Each experience has been different, and each has arrived exactly as it needed to.