Kuku Mama

Kundalini is not soft. It doesn’t ask you to float away; it demands you land.

It is a precise, quiet confrontation. It’s the smell of sweat on a cold morning and the sharp, metallic taste of air when your lungs are finally, truly open. It’s the ache in your shoulders that asks, “Will you fold?” and the breath that answers, “Not today.”

Over the last year, I’ve been training to sit in sensation without flinching. To breathe when every lizard-brain instinct says abort mission. To keep my spine upright when the gravity of the world feels like it’s trying to crush my ribs.

In other words: it’s the perfect training for a Kuku Mama.

Yes, it’s affectionate. Yes, it’s a little feral. And yes, it fits.

I’ve leaned into the "Kuku" because it’s the only word that holds the weight of what we’re doing here at the Homestead.

• Kuku as in crazy enough to commit when the "logical" thing is to walk away.

• Kuku as in the watchful hen—eyes on the horizon, protective, tuned into the frequency of the flock before they even know they’re in danger.

• Kuku as in the Mother Hen who learned the hard way so her chicks don’t have to.

I completed my trauma-informed teacher training through Yoga Farm Ithaca during a year of collective nervous-system overload.

While the world felt like it was actively unspooling; the heavy thrum of "normal life" breaking apart— I committed to the mat in 2025 because the times demand sturdier people.

I learned that care is not coddling; it’s the strength to hold a boundary. Regulation is not passivity; it’s the engine of action. Breath is not just air; it is infrastructure. Presence is a practice you sharpen and polish like a blade.

So, go ahead— call me Kuku Mama.

I’m the kind who watches the fire closely. The kind who trains for the chaos instead of pretending it’s not coming. The kind who knows that staying grounded in unstable times isn't a gift; it’s a cultivation.

This certificate isn't about guru theatrics or spiritual bypassing. There is no "love and light" here that hasn't been tested by the lack of. It’s just deeper roots.

The Mama is trained.

Sat Nam.