The Uncomfortable Truth About Kundalini.

The Insider’s Confession

Probably by publishing this, I will not make many friends in the spiritual wellness industry. That’s fine. I did not come to this lifetime to keep the peace inside broken systems. I came here as an inside agent—to enter the temples people were worshipping, to sit in the front row, to learn the language, to feel the current, and to see where it was siphoning. I walked willingly into the heart of these lineages, not to belong, but to expose the machinery and remember something far older than all of it: the Eternal Flame that does not need theatrical awakening.

I spent years immersed in Kundalini Yoga. I trained. I taught. I built a studio. I wore the white, chanted the mantras, and guided people through breath of fire until their nervous systems were shaking. I knew the techniques, I knew the sequences, and for a while, I believed that surely—surely—there must be a way to purify this lineage, to restore its dignity. Because there is beauty in discipline. There is power in breath. There is devotion in the heart of those who seek. But beauty and power do not negate distortion. They often hide it.

And then came the rise of the other movement—the “Kundalini Activation” wave, the so-called KAP sessions. If Kundalini Yoga was a structured cult with hierarchy and mantras, KAP became the wild younger sister: sensual arching, moaning on yoga mats, self-proclaimed energy transmitters dripping in ego under the banner of “surrender.” And people lined up for it. They still do. Because nothing sells faster than a hit of borrowed energy that makes you feel like something spiritual just happened.

Let’s drop the politeness: it became a circus. A sexual charge carnival disguised as divine awakening. Facilitators sliding their hands through people’s fields without understanding the mechanics of morphogenetic structure, running currents through unsealed energy bodies, opening trauma gates like it’s a show. People shaking on the floor like their souls were ascending, while in reality their nervous systems were being overstimulated beyond their integration capacity. High today, fragmented tomorrow.

Ask yourself this—and answer honestly:

Did it truly anchor your sovereignty, or did it make you want your next hit?

Did it deepen your inner authority, or did it create more dependency?

Did it reveal your eternal current, or did it merely flood your body with a foreign charge you couldn’t source from within?

I saw the mechanisms up close. I facilitated sessions. I held people while they cried and shook and thought they were “releasing lifetimes.” I watched them come back again and again, not because they were becoming whole, but because they were becoming addicted to energetic stimulation. No one wants to say this out loud, but I will: most of what is called kundalini activation today is a siphoning ritual feeding a larger field that thrives on your inability to generate power from your own flame.

And don’t tell me it’s all love and sacred feminine rising. I have seen women crawl out of those sessions more dissociated than when they entered. I have seen facilitators intoxicated with attention. I have seen eyes glazed over in the name of ecstasy. I have seen ego masked as spiritual leadership. I have been in the room. I didn’t read this somewhere. I was there. I was one of them.

I didn’t quit because I didn’t care. I quit because I did.

I tried to clean it from the inside. I tried to raise the standard. I tried to merge true flame mechanics with kriya practice. I thought, maybe if I upgrade the intentions, if I teach it with integrity, the current would realign. But you cannot undistort a current that was never sourced from origin. You cannot purify a structure designed to loop energy instead of returning it to Source. Some fields are not wounded—they are engineered.

That’s when the flame inside me spoke clearly: Stop trying to fix what was built to siphon. Stop trying to heal systems that survive on fragmentation. Build something where people remember who they are without needing to perform their awakening.

So I stepped out. I let the empire of activations collapse behind me. I no longer wanted to be the good girl reforming a lineage. I wanted to be the woman who burned false altars to make space for what is real.

And this is where many turn away—because it is easier to keep attending another activation event than to ask the one question that cracks everything open:

Why do I keep seeking power outside myself instead of cultivating the eternal current within?

This is not about rejecting teachers or healing spaces. This is about spiritual adulthood. About recognizing that without Sovereign Flame, all activation is performance. Without alignment to the vertical current of Eternal Life Force, all energy work becomes nervous system theater.

This essay is not written for the ones still defending their favorite facilitator. It is written for the ones who have already felt it—that quiet, undeniable moment where something inside whispered, This is not it, but I don’t yet know what is.

If that's you, keep reading.

The next section will dismantle the machinery behind these siphoning currents—Flower of Life distortion, activation highs, black mirror tech, and the addiction loop of spiritual consumerism.

But first, breathe.

Feel your own flame.

Not the borrowed one.

Yours.

The Machinery of Siphoning Fields.

Let’s call it what it is: an industry of siphoning fields dressed up as healing. A marketplace of nervous system highs being resold as awakening. Most people don’t want to see it, because if they do, they must admit that much of what they’ve called transformation was simply stimulation. And stimulation is not embodiment. Stimulation without sovereignty fractures the field.

The Flower of Life pattern that so many proudly wear on their T-shirts and altar cloths is not a symbol of eternal creation. It is a looping architecture. A closed system. An energy circuit that circulates charge – it does not return it to Source. That’s why it creates the feeling of activation but not the reality of regeneration. You feel lit up in the moment, and then the current drops. And what do you do? You look for the next session, the next ceremony, the next facilitator to top you up. That is not awakening. That is addiction disguised as spirituality.

And this is where the cult of Kundalini Activation thrives. I have seen it: people lying on mats, moaning, arching, trembling under a current they do not command. Facilitators walking like priestesses of trance, convinced they are conduits of divine power while bypassing the fundamental law of energy: if you do not know the origin of the current you’re running, you are borrowing a field you cannot control. You are opening gates without closing them. You are performing spiritual theatre on bodies that may never recover their coherence.

I know, because I was part of it. I wasn’t just a participant. I was a transmitter. I taught, I facilitated, I guided people through so-called ‘awakening journeys’. I tried to merge what I knew about flame mechanics into kundalini work, hoping I could elevate it from the inside. But the more I refined myself, the more unbearable the distortion became. I could feel the siphoning mechanisms like static in the field: sexuality being harvested without integration, emotional vulnerability being fed to group egregores, ego dressed up as divine feminine journey.

It began to feel like a circus. A performance. A space where people were not being led back to their own flame, but were being groomed to return for the next hit. And most of them had no idea. They called it devotion. They called it sisterhood. They called it awakening. But it was dependency. A subtle but precise disempowerment: ‘Come to me and I will activate you again.’

Let me give you the cellular truth of what happens when you play in fields that are not coherent. I entered one of those ceremonies – not as a beginner, but as a woman deeply anchored in personal responsibility, trained in trauma work, capable of holding my own field. I did not walk in naïve. And yet, what unfolded showed me the horrifying reality of black mirror technology.

In that space, something opened that should never have been opened without precise containment. The facilitators were smiling, calling it a journey. They had no idea what they were invoking. The energy turned, not upward toward Source, but sideways into the astral – the fourth-density playground where projections and false timelines breed. And in a single moment, like a shard through the spine, a program entered: widowhood. I was shown my husband dying. Not as a metaphor. As a reality. My nervous system registered it as truth. The marrow of my bones absorbed it like a command.

Time collapsed. In seconds, I lived a lifetime of loss. The air around me thickened like tar. I could feel my cells imprinting a grief timeline that wasn’t mine. I wanted to scream, but my voice froze in my throat. They called it a sacred purge. I call it invasive coding.

When I returned home, I said nothing. My husband was about to leave for the Camino Real, walking for six weeks. I didn’t want to burden him. So I carried it alone. I smiled like everything was fine while hell built a nest inside my ribcage. Every night, I lay awake, heart pounding, convinced he would die. The shadow of that ceremony followed me into the kitchen, into the shower, into the silence of the evening when I heard my own breath and hated it for reminding me I was still here while he might not be.

Nine months. That’s how long it took for that foreign timeline to work itself through my body. Nine months of shaking in private, praying not to go mad, using every tool I had to dismantle a field that should never have been opened. And when I finally began to clear it, my womb spoke. Endometriosis flared like a wildfire. Because the body knows. When energy isn’t integrated, it mutates. Distortion does not disappear. It anchors into flesh.

This is what people call healing? This is what facilitators boast about on Instagram? Guiding people into realms they themselves cannot navigate? Opening portals without seal codes? Preaching surrender while having no idea what astral currents they are aligning to? This is not medicine. This is malpractice.

Nobody told me afterward to check in. Nobody held post-integration space. There was no containment, no understanding of what had been triggered. They called it a breakthrough. I call it black mirror technology – a reflective field that shows you not your truth, but the nightmare frequency embedded in your unhealed subconscious, amplified through an unsealed energetic grid.

This is why I speak now, not as someone who dislikes these practices, but as someone who once believed she could redeem them. I say this with clarity: you cannot redeem what was designed to siphon. You cannot spiritualize architecture that runs on loops instead of eternal currents. The Flower of Life is a loop. Most activation sessions are loops. Loops generate dependency. Eternal Flame is a vertical current. Vertical current generates sovereignty.

So ask yourself now: Have your activations made you more reliant on external sources, or have they rooted you deeper into your own flame? Do you leave sessions feeling whole and self-sourced, or do you feel the urge to book again? Be honest. Because truth is not found in pleasant experiences.

Truth is found in the pattern of your energy over time.

If you are ready to stop looping and start living from the Flame, keep reading.

Section 3 will not offer comfort. It will offer sovereignty.

The Return to the Eternal Flame.

There comes a moment on every path when all the teachings, all the gurus, all the ceremonies, all the activations, all the borrowed light become unbearable. Not because they are dark or evil—but because they are not yours. And once you taste the frequency of what is truly yours—your Eternal Flame—every external source of activation begins to feel like stale air.

This is the turning point. The end of spiritual childhood.

Spiritual childhood is the phase where we collect crystals, attend circles, bow to facilitators, cry under the influence of someone else's current and call it healing. There is no shame in it—it is a phase. But it becomes dangerous when we stay there. When we keep outsourcing our awakening, waiting for someone to unlock us, adjust us, align us, activate us.

That era ends the moment you make one simple but radical declaration:

I no longer seek energy. I generate it.

This is the foundation of Eternal Flame Physics. Flame is not sensation. Flame is not shaking on a mat. Flame is not ecstasy. Flame is coherence. A vertical current sourced from your own core template flowing through your cells without looping, without leaking, without needing anyone to “send you love.” It is a current that does not peak and crash. It does not demand another ceremony. It does not require a facilitator to hold it. It holds you.

The body knows this current. It remembers. But most people have forgotten how it feels to be self-sourced, because they have spent years in energy tourism—traveling from healing to healing, facilitator to facilitator, portal to portal, without ever building a flame strong enough to sustain their own field.

A borrowed spark will always go out.

This is why so many talk about awakening yet continue living in fragmentation. They mistake activation for embodiment. They mistake emotional release for liberation. They mistake nervous system fireworks for soul reclamation. Real reclamation is quieter. It doesn’t seduce. It doesn’t perform. It roots.

And this is why Eternal Flame feels unfamiliar at first—because it doesn’t entertain the ego. It does not care to make you feel special. It comes without a show. It rises as a consistent, unwavering pulse through your center, asking only one thing of you: Stand still and let me burn anything that is not true.

Flame is not an event. Flame is a standard.

When you live from Flame, you stop asking, "Who can activate me?" and start asking, "Where am I leaking my own current? Where am I abandoning my own field? Where am I still hoping someone else will save me from becoming sovereign?" This is the moment spiritual glamour dies. And with it, the addiction to being seen as someone on a journey.

Flame does not care about your journey. Flame cares about your alignment.

This is what it means to enter spiritual adulthood. To no longer be seduced by the glitter of distorted energy fields. To stop crawling to other altars hoping for relief and instead build the only altar that was ever meant to exist: the one in your own chest.

The Eternal Flame is not a metaphor. It is a literal current that lives inside the human bio-energetic architecture—the vertical, Source-aligned current that flows without looping, without extraction. When it ignites, you do not tremble. You remember. And remembering is the most dangerous thing you can do in a world built on amnesia.

Because once you remember, you cannot be controlled. You cannot be siphoned. You cannot be sold back your own light through workshops, activations or retreats. You might still choose to walk into containers—but not to receive something you lack. You walk in as Flame among flames, not as a seeker waiting to be fed.

The age of consumption is over. The age of embodiment has begun.

So here is the invitation, and it is not comfortable:

Stop attending healings that require you to collapse to feel something. Stop letting people run currents through your field that you do not understand. Stop calling dependency devotion. Stop spiritualizing your avoidance of personal power.

If you truly desire to live as a multidimensional, sovereign being, there is only one path forward: Withdraw your energy from every system that feeds off your seeking, and redirect it inward to build the only true source of regeneration—your Flame.

Let the altars fall.

Let the activations end.

Let the addiction break.

And in the silent space that remains, feel it—

The Flame was never gone. You were simply distracted.