The collapse came in 2017.
It wasn’t subtle or gradual. Instead, it was a full systems failure.
My marriage ended, and with it the internal structure I had been using to orient my life. What fell apart wasn’t just the relationship—it was my sense of who I was supposed to be in the world. Partner. Provider. Protector. Man with direction. When that scaffolding came down, there was nothing underneath that felt solid.
What followed was a flood of sensation I didn’t yet have language for: shame, numbness, anger, emptiness, resentment. Often all at once.
Before my mind could make sense of it, my body carried the weight.
My solar plexus felt hollow and collapsed, while my gut remained tight, anxious, and knotted. At the same time, my nervous system swung between rage and shutdown.
I felt like a failure—not just conceptually, but cellularly. As if life itself had rendered a verdict. I didn’t need anyone else to tell me I had failed; I was already living inside that story.
Rock Bottom
There was a moment—quiet, unremarkable on the outside—that I now recognize as rock bottom.
I realized I had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, and no money. More than that, I had no coherent identity left to perform. The strategies I’d relied on—effort, intellect, ambition, even spirituality—weren’t working anymore.
It was from that place that I reached out to my spiritual teacher, Chandrika.
When she invited me to a 10-day retreat in Tulum, my reaction wasn’t relief or hope. It was anger.
Really? You think a retreat is going to solve this?
I felt offended by the suggestion, as if it trivialized the depth of what I was carrying. Transcendence wasn’t what I wanted. Spiritual platitudes held no appeal. Above all, I wanted my life back.
Her response stopped me cold:
“You just told me you have nowhere to go, nowhere to be, and no money.
I’m not asking you for money.
I’m inviting you to participate in my container.”
I didn’t know what “container” meant. Not really.
But something in me recognized that I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing—and that doing nothing was no longer an option.
So I got on a plane to Mexico.
The Death Before the Rise
Those 10 days in Tulum changed me in ways I still struggle to put into words, even seven years later.
It wasn’t healing in the way people usually mean it. Instead of fixing my problems, it helped me face them. It didn’t provide clear answers, but it opened the door to deeper understanding.
What it did was disassemble me.
Anger moved through my body instead of being suppressed or projected.
Grief surfaced without needing to be justified.
Old identities dissolved without immediate replacements.
For the first time, I experienced what it meant to be held in a true container—not rescued, not bypassed, not empowered through affirmation, but witnessed, challenged, and metabolized.
Power was no longer something I had to perform. It was something I had to earn by staying present with discomfort.
That retreat wasn’t the rise.
It was the death.
Understanding the Solar Plexus: Manipura Chakra
In Tantric and yogic philosophy, the solar plexus chakra—Manipura—is the seat of personal power, will, and identity. Located at the navel center, it governs our sense of self, our capacity to act, and our relationship with fire.
When Manipura is balanced, we feel:
- Clear in our identity
- Confident in our choices
- Able to take action without collapsing or dominating
- Connected to our inner fire without burning out
When it’s blocked or wounded, we experience:
- Shame and self-doubt
- People-pleasing and over-giving
- Rage or complete shutdown
- Loss of direction and purpose
The solar plexus is ruled by the fire element (Agni)—the same fire that transforms, purifies, and illuminates. But fire can also destroy. The work is learning to tend the flame without letting it consume you.
The Long Reclamation
The reclamation took years.
It involved rebuilding my relationship to my body, my will, my word, and my capacity to act without collapsing or dominating. Men’s work, breathwork, tantra, shadow work, and somatic discipline served as pathways for rebuilding a solar plexus that no longer relied on fear or the need to prove myself.
The first time I felt truly powerful again wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet.
I taught a small group and noticed my voice grounded, my belly warm and steady, and I stopped trying to impress anyone. My power no longer depended on being admired.
The fire I lived with then was frantic and sharp—driven by urgency and fear of irrelevance.
The fire I live with now is contained, directional, and patient. It lives lower in my body. It doesn’t need to burn everything down to feel alive.
Integration: The Work of 2026
As I move into 2026, my central intention is integration.
I carry many identities: father, teacher, lover, businessman, spiritual practitioner, leader, wounded man. For a long time, they lived in silos. The work now is not to strengthen one at the expense of another, but to let the same man show up everywhere—without switching masks.
What integration would feel like isn’t transcendence. It’s simplicity.
Calm in my belly.
Clarity in my decisions.
Consistency across contexts.
This is solar plexus work at its deepest level—not performing power, but embodying it. Not fragmenting yourself to fit different situations, but showing up whole.
What Activates (and Shuts Down) My Solar Plexus
Today, my relationship with the solar plexus is active and ongoing.
What activates my power:
- Breathwork and core-based movement
- Teaching from lived truth (not theory)
- Sacred anger in service of boundaries
- Taking responsibility for my impact
What shuts it down:
- People-pleasing
- Over-giving without reciprocity
- Staying too long in unclear relationship dynamics
- Performing strength instead of being grounded
The collapse stripped me of false power.
The fire taught me earned power.
I no longer want to appear strong. Instead, I am committed to integrating.
And that—more than any title, role, or success—is the fire I trust now.
This Week’s Practice: Agni Sara (Fire Cleansing Breath)
This ancient yogic practice stokes the fire in your belly and strengthens the solar plexus:
- Stand with feet hip-width apart, knees slightly bent
- Place your hands on your thighs
- Take a deep breath in, then exhale completely
- Hold the breath out and pull your belly in and up rapidly (like a pump) 10-20 times
- Inhale deeply and stand up
- Repeat 3-5 rounds
Caution: Don’t practice on a full stomach. If you have high blood pressure or are pregnant, skip this one.
This practice builds heat, strengthens your core, and reminds your body what power feels like from the inside out.
Reflection Questions
- Where in your life are you performing power instead of embodying it?
- What identities are you carrying in silos? What would integration look like?
- When did you last feel truly powerful—not because someone validated you, but because you were grounded in yourself?
- What needs to burn away so the real fire can emerge?
With earned fire,
Shiva
P.S. — If this story resonates with you—if you’ve experienced your own collapse and are working on reclamation—you’re not alone. This is exactly the kind of work we do in Tantra, and with The Sacred Kings. Not bypassing the pain, but metabolizing it into power. Maybe it’s time we book a discovery call to see if we’d be aligned to work together one-on-one.
