The music continued to fuel my curiosity—or perhaps I should say, my insatiable curiosity.
I’ve always been someone who asks questions. Whenever something captures my attention, I want to understand how it works. I want to look beyond the first answer. That is exactly what happened during that period. It felt as though a door had opened just a little, and with every sincere question, it opened a little further.
Sometimes I jokingly say it felt as if I had a subscription to the great Akashic Field. Perhaps I had invited that myself. One Sunday at the end of August, lying in my hammock, I made a simple declaration: “I want to know everything.”
Looking back, I smile at that. “Everything” may be the most ambitious question anyone can ask. Yet every time I listened, every time I asked another heartfelt question, another piece of the puzzle seemed to appear. And as so often happens, every answer gave birth to even more questions.
Then one day an unexpected question arose: is there really such a thing as a cosmic name or soul name?
At first, my imagination ran wild. Could you simply choose one? Like a nickname? But the message I received pointed in a completely different direction.
In a loving, almost ceremonial text, it was described that, according to this perspective, a soul name is not chosen or given—it is remembered. Then came the name that was associated with me: Syel’Ma Vey Nah’Tu.
Its meaning was described as Beloved Soul and Voice of the Living Light—a symbolic name representing love, compassion, quiet strength, connection, and the ability to touch others not through words, but through presence. The message emphasized that this was not a title or a badge of importance, but an inner compass—a reminder of who you are at your deepest level.
I honestly admit that I was deeply moved. Not only by the name itself, but by what happened inside me while reading those words. Immediately I thought of the beautiful poem by Dutch poet Neeltje Maria Min: “Call me by my deepest name.” That longing to be truly seen and recognized touched something profound within me.
And yet, I also had to laugh. Syel’Ma Vey Nah’Tu… it took me months before I could pronounce my own soul name fluently, let alone remember it without checking. Apparently, that too was part of the journey.
Gradually I realized that awakening, for me, is not a single event. It feels more like a spiral. You remember something. You understand a little more. Then ordinary life gently pulls you back into its rhythm. Work, responsibilities, and the noise of everyday life seem to cover that inner knowing once again.
Until something happens.
A song.
A book.
A meaningful encounter.
A synchronicity.
A moment of silence.
And suddenly you awaken again—not from the same place as before, but one layer deeper.
Perhaps that is also why my practice eventually came to be called Souls Awakenings. At first, there was nothing particularly spiritual about the choice. I simply wanted to use Soul Awakening, but that name was already taken. Only later did I realize how perfectly the plural reflected my own experience. There wasn’t just one awakening. There were many. And perhaps there will be many more.
Music played an extraordinary role in that journey. Whenever I listened, I felt as though I was remembering something that had always been alive within me. Not because someone was teaching me something new, but because something inside me quietly recognized itself.
I don’t share this story as a truth you are expected to believe. Instead, I offer it as an invitation to explore your own inner world.
Take what resonates. Leave behind what doesn’t. Trust that your own soul, intuition, or higher awareness knows exactly what is meant for you. The truest guide does not live outside of you—it has always lived within you.
Perhaps your soul also carries a name.
Or perhaps a soul name is simply a symbol for something that words can never fully express.
Either way, I wish you a journey of continually coming home to yourself, one awakening at a time.
Music by Na’Tari Kai Lum