The Path It Took To Become a Head to Toe Healer

People sometimes ask me: “What pulled you into this healing path?”

The truth is, it wasn’t some grand vision or divine calling. At first, it was just about surviving. I was 28. I had health problems. I didn’t trust the system anymore—I saw how broken it was. So I did what anyone desperate enough would do: I started searching. That search lit a fire in me, and I just followed it.

Back then, I was juggling two lives—talking health on the radio by day, and living a quiet battle with my own body by night. But everything shifted in 2011.

Someone I trusted hijacked all my social media. My YouTube channel—gone. Years of work—wiped out. And back then, there were no real recovery tools. You were just… done. That betrayal wrecked me. Sent me spiraling. I was in a dark place. Angry. Obsessing over revenge. My mind started going to some really dangerous places.

Then—out of nowhere—it stopped.

I collapsed on my couch and fell into this state I’d never known before. Bliss. Pure, still bliss. I started laughing like a madman. Everything just felt absurd. I was holding on so tight to something that, in that moment, felt so stupid. I didn’t do anything to get there—it just happened.

A few hours later, the mind came back. Darkness returned. But I knew something real had just happened, and I had to figure out what.

Later I learned that experience had a name: Satori. A glimpse of awakening.

That led me to an ashram in New York. I had no clue what an ashram even was. I just knew I needed to step away from the world. What I didn’t know was that this random decision would change everything.

While I was there, I met someone. He was working on campus for room and board—cleaning toilets, taking out trash. But the staff building was closed for renovations, so they stuck him in my dorm. Complete accident. But I felt something around him. Like… presence.

We started talking. I asked questions. He gave answers. But never offered them up—I had to ask. He knew everything. The Bible. The Tao Te Ching. The Dhammapada. The Gita. He’d read it all. And he didn’t talk like someone trying to prove something. He embodied it.

I kept in touch with him for seven years.

Then one day, out of nowhere, he said, “This is our last communication. If you want to find everything I’ve ever given you, you’ll find it in silence.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I still don’t know his real name. I called him Jesus. Sometimes the Blue Antelope. He owned nothing. No phone, no car. Just a bag of clothes and peace that ran deep. And that shook me. Because here I was, still chasing success, still clinging to status—and he had none of it. But he had the one thing I truly wanted: inner peace.

So I got home, and I quit radio on air. That was it. No plan. No fallback. I committed to this new path. I was going to teach health—but I was also going to figure out how to become like him.

Behind the scenes, I kept studying. Reading. Practicing. I found more teachers. More guides. But that inner compass stayed locked on that first experience—on him.

In 2018, something else happened.

I was meditating and started seeing light. Even when I covered my eyes, the light didn’t go away. That night, my body went into what felt like paralysis. I couldn’t move. I was awake, but stuck. And I just thought, If this is death… so be it. I surrendered. And then everything changed.

The next morning, I felt… slower. Softer. My voice, my energy, my whole vibe changed. Watch my old videos—you’ll see it. I was wild back then. Animated. All over the place. But after that night, it all calmed down.

Then came 2021. Seven months of pure hell. The Dark Night of the Soul. It broke me wide open. But at the end of it—I had another Satori. Just like in 2011. My mind stopped. Everything stilled.

That was when I knew I had to bring this energy—the calm, the presence—to the public. I shifted my voice. My message. Within five months, I went viral.

People started writing me. Saying they fall asleep to my voice. That I ease their anxiety. That my energy feels different.

And it is different.

Because I didn’t read it in a book. I lived it.

This whole thing—it wasn’t planned. I didn’t choose it. I got dragged into it by pain and betrayal and a guy who disappeared into silence.

But I kept going. I kept asking. And now… I speak from a different place.

A quieter place.

A real one.