The Awakening: A Journey Through Darkness and Light

There are moments in life when the soul, like a painter before a blank canvas, hesitates before making the first stroke—aware that one line, one question, can unravel an entire composition.

For me, that moment arrived in 2018, a morning like any other, yet unlike any before. The sun, a golden architect of the dawn, streamed through my window, and with its quiet insistence, a thought emerged:

What am I doing here?

It was as if my existence had been suspended in a fresco—a life carefully painted with deliberate strokes of duty, love, and ambition. And yet, standing before this masterpiece, I saw cracks in the surface. The illusion of permanence faded, revealing something more ancient beneath it.

I had everything that, by all accounts, should have fulfilled me: a secure profession, a home built with care, and a partner who was more than my love —he was my dearest friend. But love, I would come to understand, is not always the same as destiny.

Like rivers born from the same source, we had once flowed in harmony. But rivers, too, are shaped by the landscapes they traverse, and somewhere along the way, we had diverged. There was no storm, no rupture —only a quiet knowing. The moment had come to follow the current of my soul, though I knew not where it would lead.

And so, I let go.

I left behind the world I knew. I ended my engagement, resigned from my job, and with nothing but a suitcase and an insatiable curiosity, I set out for Paris.

Paris: The City of Beauty and the Abyss

Paris greeted me like an old soul, draped in velvet and shadow, whispering secrets from its cobblestone streets. Within two weeks, I had found a home—a beautiful apartment at 23 Rue de Richelieu, in the heart of the 1st Arrondissement. By day, I immersed myself in studies at the Institut Français de la Mode, delving into the intricate world of creation. By night, I wandered, breathing in the poetry of the city—the golden hush of twilight on the Seine, the murmur of conversation in hidden cafés, the spectral glow of streetlamps dissolving into mist.

It was intoxicating. It was exhilarating. And yet, beneath the shimmering façade of this dream, I felt something stir—a formless specter of loss.

The city, for all its beauty, moved too fast. Its pulse was relentless, its appetite insatiable. I, too, became ensnared in its rhythm—a ceaseless cycle of working, studying, eating in haste, collapsing into sleep, only to rise and repeat it all again. I had sought freedom, yet found myself in another gilded cage.

One evening, I stood by the Seine, watching the city’s reflection ripple upon the water, its lights quivering like fragile constellations. The air was thick with the scent of rain and longing. It was then that I whispered to the night:

Is this all there is?

The Descent into Darkness

The disillusionment began subtly, like ink seeping through parchment.

At first, it was my studies—my research in the fashion industry, once a source of fascination, now revealed itself to be built upon an illusion. Behind the glamour, I saw the hidden hands of exploitation, the machinery of excess, the hunger for more at the cost of the soul. What I had admired now seemed hollow, a house of mirrors reflecting only emptiness.

Then, the world changed.

The pandemic swept across the earth, turning bustling streets into ghostly echoes of their former selves. In the stillness, grief entered my life like an uninvited guest. My father passed away. The loss was not just his absence—it was the unraveling of certainty itself.

I fell into the abyss. Depression wrapped itself around me like a heavy cloak. The days became indistinguishable, time folding in on itself. I sat for hours staring at nothing, feeling the unbearable weight of existence pressing upon my chest. I lost all sense of purpose.

Yet, in the silence of my despair, something ancient called to me. A whisper from beyond logic, beyond intellect. A summons from the depths of the unseen.

I sought guidance and found a shaman—a bridge between worlds—who led me inward, into the vast and uncharted territory of my own soul.

No matter how much beauty surrounded me, nothing felt whole. I realized I had been chasing external fulfillment when what I truly longed for was connection—connection to something greater than myself. The soul’s whisper became louder, and soon, the darkness arrived. I lost my sense of purpose.

In the midst of my despair, I found myself drawn to the path of the ancients. I sought out a shaman, Enrico Eulzer, a guide who could lead me back to my essence. That was when the real journey began—the journey inward.

A Glimpse of the Infinite

In early 2021, during a deep state of holotropic breathwork, I crossed a threshold I had not known existed. At first, there was a pressure in my chest, as though my heart itself was being torn open.

I let go.

And then, I left my body.

I watched myself from above, detached yet aware—I zoomed out. Like a bird taking flight, my consciousness expanded beyond the confines of flesh, beyond the city, beyond the Earth itself.

I entered a space of eternity. Time dissolved. I experienced myself as a multidimensional being, infinite and whole. There were no questions left, because everything was clear.

I understood: I am consciousness itself, experiencing life through a thousand veils.

But awakening does not come without its trials. The more I remembered, the more isolated I felt. No one around me understood what I had seen, and so I began to doubt my own experience. Was it real? Was I losing myself? The only way forward was to surrender.

For four years, I walked through the valley of my own shadows. I attended retreats, fasted for weeks, delved into breathwork, and allowed every buried wound to surface. The pain stretched across time, testing every fiber of my being. I numbed myself with distractions —cannabis, alcohol, cigarettes —until my body refused to carry the weight any longer.

There was no escape left. I had to feel it all.

I soared into the vast expanse of the cosmos, galaxies that pulsed like ancient heartbeats. There was no time, no space—only the silent, infinite hum of existence.

And then, I understood.

There were no words, no voices —only knowing. A presence, neither form nor thought, whispered the truth of all things, not in language, but in essence.

I was not merely myself.

I was all things.

I returned from that place altered. The world had not changed, yet I saw it differently. My mother was no longer just my mother—she was another version of me, living a different experience. Every person I encountered was a reflection, a thread woven from the same fabric of being.

Everything was sacred.

Writing became my refuge. Through the words that poured onto paper, I channeled something beyond myself—messages from the great field of oneness. It was there that I realized: We are all connected. We have always been. Throughout these years, I changed careers, pursued different studies, and started over more times than I can count. Each time, life erased what no longer served me, like waves dissolving footprints in the sand.

The dark night of the soul came and went, until the day I let go completely. That surrender was my liberation. The ego dissolved, and I allowed myself to be carried by the current of the Divine. I no longer resisted life—I became one with it.

Fear faded.

Doubt disappeared.

The feeling of being lost turned into a deep, unwavering trust.

The Ego Death and the Art of Rebirth

But awakening is not a single moment—it is a continuous unlayering, an unveiling of the illusions we once clung to.

For three months, I did nothing but sit in stillness. I fasted, allowing the body to listen. I wrote, allowing the soul to speak.

One day, standing by the sea, I asked the universe:

What must I do?

And the answer came—not in words, but in knowing:

"It is not enough to know." - a sentence Enrico told me long ago.

Knowledge, without embodiment, is an empty vessel. And so, I took my writings—pages upon pages of thoughts, visions, and revelations—and began to shape them into something tangible.

The Birth of a New Vision

Out of this journey, my first book was born: Eternity. Alles. Nichts. Liebe.—Verschmelzung mit dem Unendlichen im Tanz der Nondualität. In it, I distill the essence of what we are, the way I see the world, and the wisdom I have gathered along the way. My deepest wish is to serve as a lighthouse for those walking this path, reminding them that they are never alone.

The book will be released on April 4, 2025, in German, followed by the English edition in August 2025 and the Romanian edition in July 2025.

Today, I stand on the path my soul chose long before this lifetime. Writing flows effortlessly. People have always been drawn to the way I see the world, and I have embraced my role as a guide. I am now creating masterclasses based on my book, writing poetry, painting, photographing, and exploring the power of frequency.

One vision has remained with me for years—a project that came to me in a moment of clarity: Project: Experience-Space to create an experiential space of Sound, Light, and Frequency —a sanctuary where people can return to their purest essence. What began as an idea has now become a call to action.

To all artists, musicians, healers, and visionaries who feel the pull: Join the Project if you feel the call. Let us weave a new reality together. Let us create a festival, a movement, a sanctuary for remembrance. A space where every soul can reconnect with the truth that we have always been—one.