Kriya Kundalini

For me, Kriya is about conscious, purposeful movement—action that doesn’t just fill time, but actually moves us forward on the path of evolution. In Sanskrit, Kri means “to act” and Ya relates to the soul, or Atman. Put together, Kriya becomes action in alignment with the soul—something precise, intentional, and transformative. Unlike karma, which often loops us through the same cycles of cause and effect, kriya is about breaking free. It’s a way of stepping into expansion, not repetition. The deeper aim is to enter into shunya—a state of deep stillness, spaciousness, and inner clarity.

What makes kriya so potent is how it trains the body and mind to carry more energy, to live in harmony with universal forces rather than resist them. It’s a practice that helps dissolve the illusion of separation between our individual self (Jiva) and the totality (Brahman). With regular practice, there’s a sense of merging—like we’re not just doing something spiritual, we become the experience. The wisdom doesn’t come from the outside anymore; it begins to rise from within.

One of the core reasons kriya is part of the path is because of the way it prepares us for Kundalini energy. When that energy awakens, it’s powerful—it can feel overwhelming if we haven’t done the groundwork. Kriya builds that inner structure, making space in the body and the nervous system so that when the energy rises, we’re not shaken by it—we’re ready to meet it. Without that preparation, spontaneous Kundalini experiences can throw people off balance. Kriya helps ensure we’re steady and open when those moments arrive.

Kriya isn’t tied to just one tradition. You’ll see it in the Babaji lineage, in Kundalini Yoga, in the classical Hatha practices, and in the Ashtanga path of Patanjali. The lineages differ, but the intention is the same: to support our conscious evolution. Each tradition uses kriya in its own way, but the aim is always expansion, clarity, and connection with the divine.

Historically, kriyas weren’t taught in big group classes. This was sacred knowledge, passed quietly and carefully from teacher to student, only when the student was truly ready. That’s why kriya practices aren’t commonly written down the way asanas are. They were preserved through living relationships, not manuals. As a teacher, I feel a deep responsibility to uphold that. Kriya should be shared with discernment—with those who are genuinely committed, sincerely seeking, and ready to receive it with the respect it deserves. It’s not just a technique—it’s a doorway.