This week we sit down with Siriatmakaur—Kundalini yoga teacher, sound healer, and someone who watched her entire spiritual practice implode when the Netflix documentary "Breath of Fire" dropped.

SiriAtma started practicing yoga from a Baron Baptiste book in her backyard while her toddler did better arm balances than she could. She fell hard for Kundalini yoga (the kind with the white turbans, the 62-minute arm holds, and the allegations of cult behavior that turned out to be warranted). She got a spiritual destiny name from her teacher, stopped shaving everything, attended Summer Solstice gatherings religiously, and taught devout Kundalini classes for over a decade.

Then came the allegations against Yogi Bhajan—the guy who supposedly brought Kundalini to the West. Then came the documentary. Then came the reckoning.

We talk about what it's like to build your entire practice around teachings that might be fabricated. How to process that the formulas you swore by—the ones that made you feel alive and buzzing with prana—might have come from someone who hurt people. Whether you can separate the practice from the founder (spoiler: it's complicated). And what happens when the studio you're teaching at asks you to stop offering "Kundalini by Yogi Bhajan" on the schedule.

But this isn't just a sad story about disillusionment. It's about what comes after. SiriAtma talks about becoming "unfuckwithable"—that beautiful state where other people's opinions stop running your life. About teaching slow flow that feels like choreographed dance. About the 90-second eye gazing meditation that makes people cry (including Roxanne). About playing massive planetary gongs for sound healing and why six-foot gongs cost six figures.

We also discuss: why Kundalini classes were always 50/50 men and women when vinyasa is 70/30 female, whether cutting all your hair off is an act of freedom or just Wednesday, why shaving your legs for the male gaze is bullshit, how being a single mom in your twenties drinking half a bottle of wine every night led to practicing yoga in patches of sunshine between houses, and why we're all prime candidates for cult membership (it's the urge to merge back to source, obviously).

Plus: our fictional traveling yoga studio plans continue to develop. We're talking Las Vegas Sphere technology, programmable smells, laser shows, hardwood floors that can go soft on demand, and forest projections on the walls. We'll need matching uniforms (Gary insists) and someone with deep pockets who's open to weird ideas. Also a six-foot gong. Applications now open.

Fair warning: We talk about the Breath of Fire documentary, sexual abuse allegations, and what it means to feel duped by teachings you loved. This isn't light "good vibes only" content. But it's real, it's honest, and SiriAtma's journey from devotee to skeptic to her own authentic practice is exactly the kind of story we're here for.

Find SiriAtma at Blue Sky Yoga in South City (Wednesdays 7:30pm) or at her monthly Simply Sound meditation events. She's the one with the 32-inch Mercury planetary gong and zero patience for performative wellness.

This is yoga for people who think yoga content is mostly garbage.