It began with a gentle pressure on the top of my head, as if something were pushing from the inside, looking for a way out. The sensation lasted for days, until I felt as though I were standing beneath a fountain of fine mist.

The current seemed to come from the earth itself, rising up through my feet and legs. A few days later its force intensified. Around my tailbone (os coccygis) I began to feel a strong vibration, which soon turned into shaking. I was frightened, because I had no idea that anything like this was physically possible.

Shortly afterwards, I was lying in bed when the shaking grew stronger. I felt a powerful energy rising along the back of my body, not only through the spine itself but also just outside it.

A little later there was a loud crack above my head, like a thunderclap out of a clear blue sky. From a point above me, a stream came pouring down and entered my body. What stayed with me in particular was the diagonal pattern: the energy ran obliquely across my waist, from left to right.

I did not know how to make sense of this, let alone how to explain it to anyone else. So I kept it to myself.

Searching for Words and Recognition

The experience would not let go of me. Since there was nothing medically that could explain what had happened along the outside of my back, I turned to ancient spiritual traditions in search of anything I might recognise. The image of flowing water was the first to come to mind. I also looked into what mystical texts have to say about the tailbone and the spine. Three traditions caught my attention in particular.

The Jewish Mystical Tradition: The Luz Bone

In the Zohar (in the Midrash HaNe’elam, at Toldot I:137a), I came across a passage about a mysterious little bone in the spine that remains indestructible after death: the Luz bone. According to this tradition, it plays the leading role in rebuilding the body at the future resurrection. Its shape is compared in mystical writings to the head of a serpent. When I looked at an anatomical illustration, I was struck by how much the combined form of the coccyx and sacrum looks like the head of a snake.

The name Luz is meaningful too. The Hebrew word literally means ‘almond’. In Jewish mysticism the almond tree carries deep symbolic weight. It is known for blossoming early in spring, and the Zohar associates it with an accelerated cycle of 21 days from blossom to fruit.

This suggests that spiritual awakening does not always have to unfold gradually. It can also reveal itself suddenly and with great force.

Rabbeinu Bachya also discusses the unique position of this little bone. When Adam ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, his entire body became subject to mortality. The Luz bone alone, however, is said to have had no share in the forbidden fruit, and so it remained free from decay and death.

The text describes how, when the time for renewal is ripe, the Divine lets a heavenly dew descend. Just as a seed germinates in the soil, the Luz bone responds to this dew by swelling and forming the new body.

Alongside the tradition of the Luz bone, I read in the Kabbalah that the spine is seen as a physical reflection of the spiritual Middle Pillar of the Tree of Life: a cosmic-physical axis that connects earth and heaven.

The Yoga Tradition: Channels of Spiritual Life

In the Indian religious traditions, I likewise found descriptions of inner channels connected with higher consciousness. The Chāndogya Upanishad (8.6.6) states that one hundred and one subtle channels radiate from the heart. One of them rises straight up to the crown of the head. According to the text, whoever ascends by this channel attains immortality.

In later yogic and tantric traditions I found a related image: Ida and Pingala, two energy pathways that run along the left and right sides of the body respectively. Within these traditions, specific breathing techniques and meditations are used to bring these pathways into balance, so that the dormant spiritual power (Kundalini) at the base of the spine can awaken and rise through the central channel (Sushumna).

The Christian Tradition: Living Water

The Gospel of John also offers powerful images of an inner stream. In John 4:14, Jesus says:

But whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never thirst. The water that I will give him will become in him a well of water springing up into eternal life.

Further on, in John 7:38, we read:

He who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, ‘From his innermost being will flow rivers of living water.

In many translations, ‘innermost being’ renders the Greek word “koilia”. Which literally means “belly” or “bowels”. In later Bible translations, it is often rendered as “heart” or “innermost being” to convey its metaphorical meaning.

The church father Origen, in Homilies on Numbers (Homily XII), wrote:

“Look how great a treasure you have hidden within you… But you must apply study, you must apply prayer, so that the spring may well up.”

Between Recognition and Difference

Although the parallels are fascinating, closer study also revealed clear differences from my own experience.

The yoga tradition. Within yoga, the energy awakens through intensive practice, and the focus often lies first on the front of the body: abdomen, heart and head. My experience, however, arose entirely spontaneously, without any preparation, and took place exclusively along the back. Moreover, I found the loud crack from above and the diagonal downward current nowhere in the yoga literature.

The Christian tradition. Although the image of flowing water resonated, the Church Father Origen located the origin of the stream in the belly or heart, awakened by active praise and prayer. During my experience I could not reconcile these religious acts with what was happening. The stream did not rise from my heart or belly, but came directly out of the earth through my feet.

The Jewish tradition. Here I ultimately found the most recognition. The writings on the Luz bone and the spine focus specifically on the back of the body. Although the texts do not literally describe the physical shaking of the tailbone, the symbolism of the almond, the hidden beginning of sudden new life, offered me a point of connection.

I found it remarkable that the Kabbalah regards the human spine as the physical link between heaven and earth.

A Beginning, Not an End

My search was deeply satisfying. I did not find a ready-made blueprint that explains my experience from A to Z, but that was never the point.

I was not looking for proof. I was looking for words and images with which to make sense of something indescribable.

Since those days, I have felt fundamentally different. The current rising through my spine turned out not to be a final destination but a starting point. In the period that followed, my perception changed radically and a new dimension opened up.

If this story resonated with you, I would be glad to have you along. Follow my profile to read the next article in this series, in which I describe how my perception changed.

When the Earth Flows Through Your Spine was originally published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

One of my acquaintances has this line in her email signature: “Be kind to yourself.” Whenever I get an email from Wendy, I always visualize her friendly face dispensing this advice. I never give it any more thought or reflect on the statement.

But, a few days back, one of my friends was talking about problems at work. Yet, he seemed uncharacteristically calm about his problems. Upon further discussion, he mentioned that he had been doing mindfulness meditation and trying to be at peace with himself. This got me to pause and wonder, what does being at peace really mean and when do you know that you are at peace with yourself?

I decided to start with Reddit, the complete encyclopedia of all complex questions of our generation. The first couple of answers were a bit surprising and blunt. “When you don’t question it.” “If you are questioning it, you’re probably not.”

My first reaction was that they had a point. If you’re genuinely at peace, perhaps you don’t spend much time wondering whether you are. But then why was I asking? Was asking the question itself evidence that I wasn’t at peace, or was I simply curious about how other people experienced it?

I had more luck when I posed this question to some friends. One talked about no longer worrying about things that haven’t happened and not blaming themselves endlessly for the past. Another talked of not needing anyone’s validation. Another simply told me, “I’m comfortable in my silence.” There was a common theme among the answers: less dwelling on the past, less needing validation, less worrying about the future and less trying to control everything. Is peace about doing less?

But if I’m worrying less, dwelling less and trying to control less, am I just learning to let things go? And are there things we shouldn’t let go? Is self-forgiveness sometimes just a way of excusing ourselves?

I was talking to another friend and he talked about how he had made some mistakes in the past and he was at peace with himself because he believed that he gave his best at that time.

And I challenged him a bit on this point, “But did you really do your best?”

He clarified, “By ‘doing my best,’ I don’t mean making the right move. Where I am now, I can clearly see how wrong those steps were. But when I was actually walking that path, my mindset was completely locked in on just that one way. My past self made choices based on the awareness, emotion, and maturity I had at that time. It’s like an adult and a child. Our present self is the adult, and our past self is that child. Both live within us.”

I liked his definition. But when I go back to some of my blunders, awareness wasn’t the problem. When I cut my hair (in my religion, we are required to keep long hair), I upset my father. I was aware he would be upset yet I went ahead with it. My friend would say the decision was an act of youthful rebellion. Yes, maybe there was an element of youthful rebellion, but I did it fully aware of the consequences. I don’t necessarily regret wanting to cut my hair. What I regret is knowing how much it would hurt my father and doing it anyway.

My friend’s approach to peace works for him. For me, I am not sure it does.

Which takes me back to Wendy. I’ve probably read her email signature many times without giving it much thought: Be kind to yourself. I used to read it as a pleasant little piece of advice. Maybe being kind to yourself isn’t about telling yourself that you always did your best. Maybe it starts with honestly admitting that sometimes you didn’t.

I feel like I’ll read Wendy’s signature a little differently the next time she emails me.

“Be Kind to Yourself” was originally published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.