Old Wound Still Standing

There are energy practices that are gentle by design, like Reiki, and then there are practices that intentionally stimulate the nervous system — breathwork‑heavy Kundalini methods, “activation” classes, and techniques that push for intense physical or emotional release. I’m not saying these practices are bad. I’m saying they can create powerful physiological reactions that people often mistake for “energy,” when they’re actually nervous system responses. And for someone with a history of spinal or nerve trauma, that distinction matters.

I don’t avoid certain practices because I’m afraid of them. I avoid them because I know what it’s like when the base of the spine stops working the way it should. That experience changes how you see things. It makes you aware of the difference between gentle energy work and techniques that can overwhelm the nervous system. I choose what’s safe for my body, not out of fear, but out of respect for what I’ve lived through.

I’m not speaking for everyone. I’m speaking from a body that has lived through something most people haven’t. And from that perspective, certain practices carry risks that people don’t realize. Many people can explore stimulating practices and be perfectly fine. Their bodies can handle the intensity, the breathwork, the emotional surges. But not everyone should be experimenting with techniques that deliberately push the nervous system into extreme states. When you’ve lived through spinal trauma, you understand that what feels like “activation” to one person can be destabilizing to another. I’m not telling anyone what to do — I’m simply speaking from the reality of a body that has already paid the price once.

Most people have never experienced nerve loss, cauda equina symptoms, surgical trauma, loss of control, or instability in the sacral region. They don’t understand the stakes. They don’t know what it feels like when the base of the spine stops working. I have. I’ve lived through actual spinal trauma. I’ve lived through the base of the spine failing. So when I see practices that intentionally push the nervous system, I see them differently than someone who hasn’t lived that.

What I Wish People Knew Before They Chase Intensity

What I’ve learned is that people often confuse “energy” with the nervous system. They think shaking, convulsing, or emotional flooding means something spiritual is happening, when most of the time it’s just physiology — breathwork, adrenaline, trauma release, or sympathetic activation. There’s nothing mystical about it. And there’s nothing wrong with it either, if your body can handle that kind of intensity. But not every body can.

That’s why gentleness matters. Not because gentleness is safer in some vague spiritual sense, but because it respects the limits of the nervous system. Reiki is gentle by design — it doesn’t push, activate, or force anything. It doesn’t override the body. It doesn’t demand a reaction. It meets you where you are. For someone like me, with a history of spinal trauma, that difference isn’t theoretical. It’s the difference between support and destabilization.

I’m not saying no one should explore stimulating practices. I’m saying that before people chase intensity, they should understand what they’re actually doing. They should know the difference between energy and physiology. They should know that not all reactions are signs of awakening. And they should know that for some of us — the ones with lived trauma in the places these traditions talk about symbolically — the stakes are different.

Why I’m Saying This At All

I’m not trying to police anyone’s path. People will explore what they’re drawn to, and many will be completely fine. But I also know that most conversations about Kundalini‑style practices come from people who have never had anything go wrong in the places these traditions talk about symbolically. They’ve never had their sacral nerves damaged. They’ve never had their spine fail them. They’ve never had to rebuild function or learn to protect a region of the body that has already been through trauma.

That’s why I’m speaking up. Not to scare anyone — just to add a voice that’s rarely heard in these conversations. A voice from someone who has lived the consequences in the exact region people are trying to “activate.” If my perspective helps even one person pause, reflect, or choose a gentler path for their body, then sharing it is worth it

Like the tree in the photograph — the one that carries a lightning scar down its trunk — I’m not afraid of intensity. I’ve simply lived through enough of it to know what my system can hold. Some bodies can chase activation without consequence. Mine can’t. And that’s not a limitation; it’s a truth I honor. Gentleness isn’t my fallback — it’s my path, because it meets a body that has already survived more than most people will ever know.