Wisdom lives in the body, breath, and earth.

In Śaiva Tantra and Himalayan traditions, we don’t acquire it we remember it, honoUring the lineage from which it arises.

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A Journey of Unfolding

Ciao, my name is Carolina, and I often go by Luna. I'm an enthusiastic soul drawn to authenticity, depth, and presence. My story unfolds across many versions of myself, from theatre and performance to the sacred traditions of the East. My thesis explored the Mahabharata and Kathakali, ancient Hindu theatre forms that first awakened me to the power of embodied storytelling and spiritual transmission.

I don't believe in labels, but in threads. The same thread that runs through classical Indian dance, through the breath work of yoga, through every culture I've encountered while moving between continents, it's ‘pranava’, the eternal hum beneath all becoming. What anchors me through every transformation is always the same: presence, breath, and the body as a vessel for truth.

Now, as a yoga teacher rooted in the Himalayan Tradition, I create spaces where all bodies are honoured, and all stories matter. I guide students toward integration, not escape, through breath, asana, and the radical act of showing up as you are. Let's see how we can practice together and discover what unfolds…

Close-up of a pink poppy flower with water droplets on its petals, showing yellow stamens and green pistil at the center.

Philosophy & Vision: Coming Home to What Already Exists

My teachings are rooted in the Himalayan Tradition, guided by a singular intention: to unveil the veils of avidya and return to the truth that already resides within.

I recognise, as a white Italian woman living in Spain and teaching from an Anglo-Saxon context, that I engage with these profound South Asian traditions from a position shaped by migration and cultural privilege. I acknowledge the historical and ongoing colonisation of Hatha and Tantra Yoga, how its depth has been flattened, its language commodified, and its roots often erased in mainstream Western spaces.

I believe dharma is not fixed; it is a living river, an ocean of impressions emerging from cosmic consciousness. It cannot be named or categorised it must be lived, refined, and embodied. Your dharma is what was always meant to unfold in your life. My role is to support you in recognising it, while remaining committed to teaching with humility, honouring the lineage, and making space for critical reflection on cultural appropriation.

Through hatha, mantra japa, bhakti, and the wisdom of Ayurveda, we practice ahimsa, non-violence toward ourselves, our thoughts, and our deepest conditioning. We study the kleshas, the subtle veils that obscure our true nature. We inquire. We listen especially to the voices too often silenced in yoga spaces.

My journey through theatre, film, and the search for authenticity taught me that the self we construct can distance us from essence. It was through embracing opposites, learning from loss, and confronting privilege that I began to come home.

This is what I offer: a deepening relationship with the breath as a gateway to your innate intelligence. Through practice, you’ll embrace your wholeness, your contradictions, your history, your truth, and discover the oneness that was always yours, while honouring the cultural roots from which these practices emerge.

A woman sitting in a field of daisies holding a book or journal close to her face with mountains in the background.

Born Italian, I moved through childhood and into adulthood with a restlessness I didn’t yet understand. I studied at Goldsmiths University of London, where I earned a BA in Drama and Theatre, drawn to art that lives in space and time. As a white European woman, I recognise that my ability to move across borders and find belonging in creative hubs like London is shaped by privilege a mobility denied to so many.

The Early Chapters: Movement and Seeking

After graduating, I worked in film, eventually coordinating international shoots for high-end Film and Tv like Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. This was the life I thought I wanted. This was what I believed to be success. But every achievement, every title, every version of myself I constructed, they were all pages being folded, layers being added to something that was becoming increasingly distant from truth.

Dry, hilly landscape with sparse vegetation, a stop sign, and a road at the foreground under a partly cloudy sky.
A woman with curly hair sitting barefoot on a rocky desert landscape, holding a tablet, with hills and a blue sky in the background.
A woman standing in a colorful, red and green desert landscape with a blue sky and some clouds in the background.

The Unraveling: When the Pages Tear

Years later, after burning out job after job, after a severe traumatic experience, after COVID halted the world's movement, I recognised something crucial: I had been running from myself.

In that void, I indulged in unhealthy behaviours, became a way to sedate the part of myself I didn't want to see, the polar opposite of who I was performing to be. That part of me was screaming for something more profound, more authentic.

I didn't know I was running. But the breath knew. It was always there, waiting for me to stop long enough to listen.


A woman with curly hair standing outside in a barren landscape with an overcast sky, wearing an orange top and a necklace with rings, looking directly at the camera.

The Long Wandering: Folding Into Humility

I moved to Milano, then to Iceland, then to the Canary Islands, where I fell in love, not with a person, but with a way of life. Nature. Slow-paced living. The possibility of simply being rather than constantly becoming.

I left everything behind and lived as a free surfer, a yogic wanderer. Then financial hardship arrived. I took a job in a shop, folding clothes and ringing up sales. The ego screamed. The shame was real. But in that humiliation, something shifted.

I realised that nothing in our life is ever ours to keep, not titles, not achievements, not the identity we've carefully constructed. Every loss, every step down, every moment of apparent failure was an invitation to recognise what actually matters. The page was being folded again, and this time, I was finally present for it.

In that shop, folding clothes, I began to hear the breath again. 

Not as a practice, but as a homecoming.

The Sacred Tradition: Coming Home to Pranava

It was in this place of radical vulnerability that I encountered the Himalayan Tradition through Pandit Rajmani Tigunait's lineage and my teacher, Natalie Brackman. Through the study of the Yoga Sūtra of Patañjali, what had once been fitness became a doorway to something I'd been searching for my entire life: authentic presence.

The teachings on the Yamas and Niyamas illuminated the patterns I'd been unconsciously repeating. As I contemplated these sacred principles, I recognised how my actions were either moving me toward freedom or binding me further in illusion.

The five kleshas, the veils of ignorance, ego, attachment, aversion, and fear of death, became visible. Through the lens of discernment (viveka), I could finally see the mechanisms that had kept me running. I watched how avidyā (ignorance) had clouded my perception, how asmitā (ego-identity) had constructed a false self, how rāga and dveṣa (attachment and aversion) had driven my endless seeking.

But beneath all of this, beneath every fold, every page, every version of myself, there was always the pranava. The eternal Om. The breath that doesn't belong to any identity, that doesn't care about my achievements or my failures. In learning to listen to it, I learned to listen to the truth.

The yoga that had once grounded me became the yoga that awakened me: I was the only obstacle standing between myself and freedom.


A vast field of yellow and white flowers with mountains in the background under a cloudy sky.

What I Teach Now: The Breath as Anchor

Today, I guided students through Hatha Tantra 90-minute classes and guided meditation toward equanimity, not as a distant ideal, but as a real, imperfect, deeply human experience.

What I share emerges from this understanding: no matter how many times you fold, no matter how many versions of yourself you shed, the breath remains. The pranava remains. That eternal hum beneath all becoming is what anchors us when everything else falls away.

My teaching is an invitation to stop running and to listen. To recognise that humility isn't a destination, it's the willingness to be present, again and again, with what is. To understand that authenticity isn't about finding the "right" version of yourself; it's about meeting yourself, breath by breath, exactly as you are in this moment.

A person wearing sunglasses, a black jacket, and light-colored pants standing in a red, desert-like landscape with sparse vegetation and a stone wall in the background under a partly cloudy sky.

The Essence of This Life

I am still a wanderer, but I've learned to wander consciously. I've lived many lives across many continents, held many identities, chased many versions of success. Each one was a page folded, a layer added, a lesson learned.

But the pages don't matter. The folds don't matter.

What matters is the breath. What anchors me is the pranava, that eternal vibration beneath all becoming, the Om that was here before I was born and will be here long after I'm gone. In learning to listen to it, I learned to listen to you. In learning to trust it, I learned to trust the sacred space we share when we practice together.

The journey continues. The pages keep folding. But now I walk awake, present to the breath, humble before the mystery, authentic in the surrender.

Tall trees in a dense forest with sunlight filtering through the foliage

Endowed with the Wisdom of evenness of mind, one casts off both good and evil deeds in this life; therefore, devote yourself to YOGA.

Skill in action is YOGA.

The Bhagata Gita - Chapter 2 Verse 50