KY Journeys

2017

When a friend invited me to join her yoga class, I didn’t think too much about it. I had practiced several different styles of yoga for many years, except Kundalini Yoga, and although I had heard bits and pieces, I did know enough to realise that the afternoon would be an experience.

As we walked through the sliding glass doors, I was greeted by a group of people who all seemed genuinely happy and open. I realised no one was talking about work or rushing through the doors behind me in a panic to claim a space at the back of the hall where they could remain unseen. It felt like the people here were comfortable just being themselves, no pretences or forced effort.

The women were dressed in white, mingling and chatting with radiant smiles on their faces. My friend introduced me to a group of them who I had not seen before. Their kind words made me feel at ease, and as I settled onto my yoga mat, the class began.

The yoga was nothing like the yoga I knew, where fit model-type bodies executed flawless asanas in a choreographed flow. As I followed along, I realised every asana we practiced was timed, some with chanting or breathwork, and some with strange movements that stirred something inside me. It felt good, like when you wake up from a long deep sleep fully revitalised, but ten times better. By the end of the class, I wasn’t just intrigued with Kundalini yoga; I was hooked. I felt amazing and more like myself than ever before.

This wasn’t just yoga asanas, I realised. It was way more than that.

When the world shut down during the COVID-19 pandemic and we went into lockdown, my curiosity for Kundalini Yoga led me to search for an online teacher. I found one, an Australian woman who lived in Byron Bay named Kimilla. She was offering a 10-day transformation program, so without a second thought, I signed up.

That’s when I practiced something called fish fry. The exercise involved lying on the floor and wriggling like a fish in a frying pan. Yes, it felt ridiculous. Yes, I laughed at myself, wondering how this could possibly be yoga. But I kept going, curious about the benefits. And you know what? It felt good. Not just physically, but on a deeper level. Fish fry felt good! Everything about it made me laugh. I was letting go of ego and getting in touch with my inner child. I couldn’t care less if someone came home right then, I was having a great time!

Over the next year, I learned that Kundalini Yoga is a practice where you step out of your comfort zone. It challenges you to move past social paradigms and journey into your Being to where your true power is. It doesn’t promise to fit into a neat, tidy box. It can be raw and deeply personal, teaching you to let go of what you think you know and embrace what you feel, and it reveals aspects of yourself that you have hidden behind walls.

I remember practicing a Kriya online and during one part, the class had to do angry arms. The teacher guided us to tap into our anger. At first, I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to dig deep enough to access my anger. But as I moved through the exercise something began to shift.

“Get angry,” she said. “Remember something from your childhood that made you angry, think about something someone said to you or the way so-and-so made you feel small. Get angry!”

My arms were pushing through the air so fast; I grunted from the exertion. I replayed scenes from my past, and the anger stirred, bubbled and surfaced like a wild storm.

I was angry! Still pounding the air with my fist, the tears came.

The teacher bellowed above the groans and whimpers of the group, “Let whatever comes come.”

By the time we moved onto the next exercise in the Kriya, my anger had dissipated to surrender. I had finally allowed myself to let go of something that had been holding me back for far too long. I felt light.

Kundalini Yoga has a way of doing that, that’s why it’s called the Yoga of Awareness and is an evidence-based science that works to connect you with your true Self. Right then, I knew it would be my catalyst, and it would change the way I practiced yoga.

From my first class at the community hall to laughing on the lounge room floor during fish fry and rhythmically pushing my arms through the air like an enraged gorilla, it planted the seed for something to grow. And while I didn’t know it then, those moments of exploration and laughter were setting the stage for a journey that would lead me to becoming a teacher myself and changing the way I lived.

As my love for Kundalini yoga grew, I found myself searching for more teachers and practices online. From Kimilla to Guru Jagat, each brought a different perspective to the teachings. I listened to podcasts by Ram Dass and others and read endless self-help books and also ones authored by Kundalini Yoga Teachers. I felt like I was feeding this insatiable curiosity that didn’t want to end.

In 2020, I decided to train to become a Vinyasa Yoga Teacher. It felt like the right thing to do, especially since my cousin had been teaching it for many years and was offering a course online. I completed the training and celebrated with my husband. What started as a couple of drinks turned into a full-on party for two. We sang karaoke, danced like rock stars and our dogs joined in with occasional howls. It was fun, the kind of celebration that marks a milestone with a bang! For a while I enjoyed the usual Friday night parties, but as I became more confident in teaching, something began to feel disconnected. Disconnected from my Kundalini Yoga practice and from the partying. While I appreciated the flow and strength of Vinyasa, it didn’t light me up in the same way Kundalini Yoga did or hold me accountable. The connection I felt during my personal Kundalini practice was missing and I found myself restless, the excitement of my partying phase was wearing off. I craved something more; I needed to find my purpose in life.

After having a long chat with a colleague one morning, I made a decision that felt exciting. I signed up for Kundalini Yoga Teacher Training. My excitement wasn’t about the label of “teacher” but the “knowing” that THIS would transform my life. The nearly two year-long journey was intense, but it was also deeply fulfilling.

The shifts happening inside me were habitual changes and because of that my personality began to slowly change. Felt even bigger. Don’t get me wrong. I am no saint, but I was opening up in ways that felt good to me and those around me.

One morning, while scrolling the 3HO website, I saw “Find out your spiritual name!” I remembered my friend who had taken me to my first Kundalini Yoga class had one. I thought I’d love to know what mine is, so I applied.

It was already a year into my training.

I remember this particular morning very well. The morning I received an email from 3HO with my spiritual name. It was 3:30 a.m. on September 23, and I had just gotten up to practice yoga with RA MA TV. They were hosting a special two-day Equinox and full moon in Pisces celebration filled with many Kundalini Yoga classes.

As the class ended and the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, I made a coffee and checked my emails. And there it was:

You have been blessed to live as Adi Nampreet Kaur.

The email explained my name. Adi—God’s primal, infinite energy. Nam—God’s name, identity. Preet—love. It went on: Use your powerful name, Adi Nampreet Kaur, to reveal your loving self and embody God’s infinite primal energy by meditating on His/Her name.

I slammed the laptop shut and jumped up. “Wahe Guru!”

“Babe, are you awake?”

“I am now. What’s up?” my husband said.

“Guess what—” I didn’t give him a second to guess. “My spiritual name is Adi Nampreet Kaur!”

“Beautiful, hon. Now go make me a coffee.”

I giggled, jumped off the bed, and sang Wahe Guru all the way to the kitchen.

It was like the Universe just handed me a mirror and said, look, this is who you really are underneath all the noise.

Your spiritual name is a vibration. It holds the frequency of your Soul’s path, something to live up to and to grow into. Every time you hear your name or use it, you can feel yourself stepping closer to who you really are, and you start living in its energy and let me tell you, it’s a beautiful energy.

By January 2023, I had completed the program and felt ready to step into my role as a teacher and share the knowledge and practices that played a part in providing me with the space to grow in ways I never expected. Over time the journey had changed me and now I wanted to teach and pass on what I had learned.

But life has a way of testing your balance just when you think you’ve mastered your Vrikshasana (Tree Pose). I planned to register with the nationally recognised Australian Kundalini Yoga organisation, Kundalini Yoga Teachers Australia and New Zealand (KYTANZ), and discovered that the course I had just completed wasn’t certified. To teach Kundalini Yoga up to their standards, I would need to complete a internationally certified KRI (Kundalini Research Institute) training course with a certified teacher.

Throughout 2023, I spoke with Didar Kaur, a Lead Trainer with KRI, many, many times, discussing further training to complete Level One with certification, but I couldn’t justify spending such a large amount of money so soon after my previous training and I felt disappointed knowing that, had things gone differently, I could be signing up for Level Two training. Instead, here I was, still at Level One. Despite my frustration though, I knew that registering for the certified training was the right step to take.

Not everyone values certification, but for me, it was important, I feel a strong connection to the lineage of teachers and the traditions. It is something I feel I need to honour; it’s part of my path. But even in knowing that, I often talked myself out of contacting Didar to register for training or enquire when the next training would be.

However, when I look back now, I see that everything unfolded just as it should have. While the setback, didn’t diminish my love for the practice or my commitment to sharing it with others, it did become a lesson in patience and authenticity.

At the end of 2024, I finally signed up for KRI-Certified Level One training. There’s no pathway to crossover, unfortunately, so the only option was to commit to the year long study program which involves a combination of online classes and in-person workshops in Mackay, commencing in March 2025.

Lately, I’ve been reading The Flow of Eternal Power by Shakti Parwha Kaur Khalsa, and one particular line stood out for me.

“Discipline is remembering what you want.”

It was a light bulb moment! It’s easy to lose focus or let distractions stop you from practicing. But I remember why I started this journey in the first place. It’s that feeling of belonging, of Ik, the Oneness that permeates all of us. The path we choose isn’t always linear, it’s about growth and evolution.

It’s all part of the process. The fact is that every part of this journey, even the doubts and delays, has been necessary for my growth. Sometimes, the timing of things doesn’t make sense, but hindsight always reveals the bigger picture. I’m excited to be sharing this Certified Level One Training with like-minded women who, no doubt, have their own story to tell of their journey to get to this moment.

Now it’s February 2025, one month from the start of my Level One Certified Training and my journey thus far has taught me patience, resilience, and trust, among other things. Yogi Bhajan and my Teacher, Didar Kaur, said, “Patience pays”. And they are right. More than anything I want to deepen my connection to Self and the Golden Chain of Teachers before me, and honour this sacred practice of Kundalini Yoga.

Much Love
Adi Nampreet xx