My Second True Teacher: Guru Jagat

My second true teacher was the beloved Guru Jagat.

I came out to California in the spring of 2015 to help launch another wellness company. The moment I landed and smelled jasmine in the air, I knew I was moving here. I couldn’t believe I had spent 15 years in the hustle of the concrete jungle. But at the time, everything I knew—my life, my career—was in New York City.

About two weeks into my trip, after extending my return flight for the third time, I reached out to a friend and asked if she knew of anything going on that weekend. She replied,

“I’m out of town, but if you’re looking for something healing and transformative, there’s a workshop in Malibu you’d enjoy. I know the people. I can set you up.”

Healing and transformative? I was hooked.

So I took my little rental car to Malibu and parked on the ocean side of the PCH. From there, I could see the house perched on a bluff with one of the most magnificent views I’d ever seen. As I walked closer, I noticed two girls dressed in all white with head coverings. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just any workshop—it was a Kundalini workshop. And I had no idea what I was doing there.

I looked down at my outfit—a red and white striped shirt with flower pants. Cute, but completely out of place. I couldn’t have stood out more.

And, of course, I was the first one there.

This New Yorker was always on time. LA? Never.

While I waited, I met two women—Shadabreet and Harmanjot—who were setting up. I was so early I ended up helping them prep for the event. They’re dear friends to this day.

About 30 or 40 minutes later, Guru Jagat took the stage. There were maybe 50 of us. The session lasted three hours.

I’ll never forget the father and daughter who sat beside me and supported me throughout the experience. I regret not getting her number, but I’ll always remember her welcoming, inclusive presence.

Halfway through, I stopped focusing on what I didn’t know and started tuning in to a feeling of deep remembering—a call toward home. I was hooked. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for days.

Afterward, I drove to Zuma Beach. I felt alive, inspired, and filled with the knowing that my real life was just beginning. I moved to LA about 8 weeks later, where Guru Jagat had her home base.

Guru Jagat—though controversial to some—was outstanding to me. I called her my teacher. She was also a friend.

But I kept space between us. I respected the teacher-student relationship. And honestly, sometimes I’d flounder around her.

She scared me a bit—her confidence was so strong it mirrored all my insecurities that still needed tending.

But I studied diligently. I learned so much from her. From 2015 until her passing in August 2021, I immersed myself in the teachings.

I turned so many people on to Kundalini and Guru Jagat that some thought I worked for her as a publicist.

I didn’t.

I just wanted people to feel what I had felt. Because once you taste that kind of soul-level bliss, you want others to feel it too—to awaken, to remember, to rise.

One of the greatest highlights of my career came during this time.

I was working with Pratima, the beloved Ayurvedic doctor I’ve mentioned before, and had the idea that she should host Guru Jagat’s NYC book launch for Invincible Living. The synergy between them was electric, and my intuition told me it would be something special.

It was.

I curated a sacred evening with 60 of New York’s most respected guests in wellness, beauty, yoga, and alternative medicine—editors, celebrity makeup artists, soulful influencers.

To bring two of my teachers together—to showcase their wisdom and presence—was a gift. The room buzzed with energy. It was authentic collaboration, something I’ve always been deeply aligned with. That rainy but radiant night in NYC, we created something unforgettable.

We talked about sex, politics, business, art, fashion, culture—everything.

And every kriya and meditation woven into the evening transformed even the skeptics into believers—tapping them into a sacred remembrance, a reverence that, no matter our paths:

We are all connected.