π The Threshold of Global Leadership β Standing in the Fire of Humanity
For over two decades, I stood in rooms
with thousands of people
who thought they could not survive their lives.
I coached over half a million human beings β
people whose stories stretched across the full spectrum of what a soul can endure.
Olympic athletes confronting the weight of a single moment.
People escaping war, torture, or nations where freedom was a fantasy.
Mothers grieving children.
Men rebuilding after everything collapsed.
Young women searching for safety in their own bodies.
Families fractured by history, memory, or silence.
I stood with all of them.
Not as a savior.
Not as a healer.
Not as an expert.
But as a witness to the part of them
that remained untouched by everything they survived.
The Self.
The same Self that had carried me
through grief, loss, art, fire.
And what I learned β
over and over again β
is that human beings do not need to be fixed.
They are here to remember.
This work was not glamorous.
It was not curated.
It was not spiritual performance.
It was the most intimate, unfiltered contact
with the human spirit that I have ever known.
And in those decades,
I crossed another threshold:
The threshold between teaching transformation
and embodying it.
Identity teaches.
Self transmits.
What people felt in my presence
was never technique.
It was coherence.
It was the steadiness you develop
only when you have walked through your own fire
and did not lose yourself inside it.
Those years prepared me for this era β
the era of mentorship, wisdom, reinvention, and legacy.
The era of guiding people not through information,
but through thresholds.
With love and presence,
π Gitanjali
Threshold Journeys
Where the inner crossings reveal the architecture of Becoming.
Leadership & Transformation Coach | Human Design Guide
Founder of Vision. Power. Presence.
If this spoke to you, share it with someone standing at their own threshold.
I write about leadership, identity, and Human Design β where transformation becomes art and reinvention becomes remembrance.
Image Credit: Gitanjali Koppikar, My Motherβs Sari, 2025