I know what it is to give everything to others and slowly lose the way back to yourself. To keep going, keep giving, keep showing up — while something inside you quietly says: enough.

That quiet voice didn’t settle me down. It sent me off.

A conversation on a train through Southeast Asia, 2014. A Buddhist nun told me about Vipassana — back then I didn’t even know what meditation was. Ten days of silence in Myanmar later, something in me had shifted.

What followed were years of learning. Classical Hatha in Rishikesh. Tantra, shamanism, and embodiment in Ecuador. More weeks of silence in further Vipassana retreats. And finally yoga therapy in Germany.

In between: five years in Mexico. Off-grid, in the jungle, near the Pacific coast. We built from nothing — no water, no electricity, only what we made with our own hands. There I learned again to value the smallest things.

None of it — the travelling, the silence, the trainings — was ever about collecting. It was about searching. Because I had questions that still won’t let me go — and, by now, a few answers too: What does the body carry that the mind can’t reach? How do we find our way back — to ourselves, to stillness, to what can heal in us?

I don’t speak only from books. I speak from experience — including once having been too close to burning out myself. I know the way back from the inside, because I walk my own path — every day, anew.

I don’t heal anyone. You do that. I walk alongside you and hold up the mirror — so you find again what was always already in you.