My encounter with the Living

In February 2026, everything collapsed.

No more meaning. No more bearings. No more energy.

I could no longer even lift a finger.

What I want to speak about here is not what happened, but the way I went through it.

Collapsed, I thought of TAU. I already knew it. That almost immediate reflex is what saved me. Only afterwards came the confirmation: a serious health imbalance. Objectively, physically, it was serious — but fortunately, I don’t think I ever really took it in as such.

A curious thing: I rarely asked myself “why me”, rarely felt it was unfair. I told myself, incredibly fast: this thing doesn’t belong to me. That imbalance was a message, and it was up to me to understand its meaning.

Very quickly too, I never saw it as something permanent. My body needed support, like a crutch, for the time of a transitional period. The future may tell; for now, I don’t know.

TAU resonated deeply with my way of understanding the living. It did not separate body, spirit and life. It was exactly what I needed.

Prevention is not always enough.

For me, illness carries a meaning — a cry of the soul, which calls for a medicine of the soul, yet fully embodied in the physical body and the concrete world. That does not make it our new identity. That was clear from the very start.

What we see physically is not always the whole reality. There are things that are invisible, materially speaking — a coexistence of the visible and the invisible.

The hardest part was not asking for help.

It was receiving it, in that vulnerability.

I was extraordinarily well surrounded throughout that difficult period — by TAU, by that connection and the people who carry it, and by my friends, my loved ones. In choosing TAU, my friends encouraged me to follow what I felt.

Very quickly, I also chose complementary approaches — without scattering myself across a thousand methods.

I moved forward through trials, observations and adjustments, step by step, without anticipating what would or would not happen to me. Even though I was afraid.

Little by little, something began to circulate in me again.

Give. Receive. Let it circulate.

As the TAU massages unfroze what had been frozen in me, I set myself back in motion in life. Truly in life.

Facing a completely unknown situation, one I was undergoing with no grip on it, the only thing that still belonged to me was my state of mind, my emotional state.

Very quickly, it became clear to me that, for me, this passage was not only about the body.

It also came from accumulated chronic stress, from old traumas, from family unspokens never named. What Gabor Maté describes so well: carrying, holding, doing, again and again, in a silence that prevents anything from circulating.

I no longer even had the strength to fight.

I was too exhausted for that.

So it wasn’t even really a choice.

But very quickly, one thing became obvious: this was not something to fight, but something to accompany.

Work on the body — energetic massages that began to bring back into circulation what old traumas had frozen in me — and on the spirit, something that went far beyond me while being deeply embodied.

I was afraid too — afraid of what was being offered to me, of its effects, of what it would make of me. We worked on that resistance. There were rituals, to leave the old where it belongs, without turning back to it.

I won’t go further here — some things are better told in presence than in words.

It was not in the hands of a single person, dependent on their availability.

It was a well-run system, several therapists relaying one another — which is what I needed, since I could not afford to interrupt.

And I made beautiful encounters there.

Each person has to find their own keys.

The work comes from within, never from outside.

This coexistence — between what passes through the body and what, in me, remains whole — also forced me to take care of myself.

Of my needs.

Truly.

Looking back, I understand that this path did not begin with a diagnosis.

It had begun long before.