We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Shantaya Bonilla. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Shantaya below.
Hi Shantaya, we’re so appreciative of you taking the time to share your nuggets of wisdom with our community. One of the topics we think is most important for folks looking to level up their lives is building up their self-confidence and self-esteem. Can you share how you developed your confidence?
Honestly, being on stage has played a huge role in developing my confidence. I started performing when I was 15, and it always came with intense anxiety—borderline unbearable at times. I remember it especially clearly in my early 20s. One of the most unforgettable moments was a performance at the Friedrichstadt-Palast in Berlin. I wasn’t even the main act—I was dancing as part of a magic trick for a singer—but the pressure was enormous.
The audience was filled with incredibly prominent people—Gorbachev, Chancellor Helmut Kohl, famous musicians like Jack White… I remember thinking, What on earth am I doing here? My heart was pounding in my throat. I had to have a real, serious talk with myself backstage. I said, “Okay girlfriend, listen—you can do this.” It wasn’t tough love—it was the kindest, most motivating self-talk I had ever given myself.
That’s when I really began to understand what self-care means. It’s not just going to the gym or sticking to routines that can sometimes feel like obligations. True self-care, for me, is speaking kindly to myself—especially to my inner child. It’s becoming the loving adult I always needed. That performance ended up being a huge success, and it led to many more shows.
At the same time, I was involved in other projects- one of them was my solo project where I played piano and sang German lyrics. I often traveled to Berlin to perform. And every single time, I was nervous. Every time I had to give myself that same pep talk. And with every performance, it got a little easier—until one day, it simply became routine.
What remained, though, was the practice of speaking gently and encouragingly to myself. That became a habit—and truly, a lifelong lesson. It doesn’t always work perfectly, but it gets better. It’s a journey. And for me, self-esteem and confidence are not something you arrive at, but something you cultivate with love, over and over again.
Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?
All my life, I’ve been performing—mostly in different band projects. Music was always the red thread that held everything together. I was once married and had several relationships over the years. For the longest time, I kept wondering: Why am I always meeting the same kind of man? I was hopelessly romantic, caught in a loop of love stories that often turned into heartbreak.
Looking back now, I see how many women—including myself—have been unconsciously shaped by the Disney narrative. We’re taught to wait for the prince, the rescue, the grand romance. But reality is often very different.
Around 2008, I had a super fun rockabilly band, and that’s when I got discovered by a drummer who filled in for us. He was part of an incredible rhythm and blues band. I adored that music and that time. The men in the band were genuine, grounded, incredibly talented musicians. We played festivals all over Europe—including one with jazz legend Ahmad Jamal. It was magical to sing, dance, and chant for crowds, to connect deeply with people through music.
But while my musical journey was blossoming, my personal life was often in turmoil. I was in a relationship where alcohol and drug abuse were normal. It was devastating. I’ve never had an easy childhood, but not once did I ever want to numb my pain with substances. I felt everything—fully. And it was during the darkest moments of that relationship that I knew: I need something more. I need something deeper.
A dear friend of mine, an Ashtanga yoga teacher, once told me, “Practice, and all is coming.” That stayed with me. Around the same time, during another piano gig in Berlin, I met a woman who told me about Paramahansa Yogananda. We went to an alternative bookstore and I bought Autobiography of a Yogi. I left the book on my shelf for a while… until one cold evening, I finally opened it.
I was living in a tiny town at the time. I looked out my window and saw a church lit in a soft orange glow, with icicles hanging like ornaments. I sighed and thought – If only Paramahansa were here. But then I turned the page—and the next chapter was titled: Paramahansa Visits Eichstätt, Germany. That town was just 20 kilometers from me. I started to cry. Something deep inside me knew: I needed to find an ashram. I needed to reconnect with my soul.
Even as we continued touring with the band, even with the applause and the travel and the bright lights—I remained committed to that quiet voice within. Performing can be beautiful, but it can also be lonely. You’re praised, but if you’re not careful, that praise feeds your ego instead of your heart. I wanted to stay humble and grateful for the gift of music—and stay on the path of seeking something greater.
So, I searched online for ashrams. The first one that came up was Amritapuri, the home of Mata Amritanandamayi, or more simply, Amma—the hugging saint. It was 2010. I reached out to them, thinking I’d need to plan a trip to India.
But then something incredible happened: they told me Amma would be in Germany in just two weeks.
It was November, snowing, icy roads. I almost didn’t go. My mind made every excuse: It’s too far. The weather is too bad. You won’t even get close to her. But something inside kept whispering, Go. Go now. Finally, I said out loud: “OK! I’m going.” I packed a bottle of water, some fruit, and drove 2.5 hours to Mannheim.
The moment I stepped into the hall, I felt it: This is where I need to be. This is where I’ll find answers.
I was skeptical—of course. I’m German, after all. But the longing in me was stronger than the doubt. I wanted to go deep. I wanted to heal. That night, I drove home in silence, listening to the most hauntingly beautiful Indian music I’d ever heard. I didn’t understand it, but it touched something ancient in me.
That very evening, I booked a ticket to India.
Two months later, I was on a plane to Kerala.
And that’s when my real inner journey began.
In 2010, I spent two months in Amma’s ashram in Amritapuri, India. At first, I thought, Oh my God, what am I doing here? It was a complete culture shock. The sounds, the smells, the heat—it all overwhelmed me. But after a nap and some rest, everything changed.
That evening, Amma returned from a tour, and I entered the large meditation hall filled with shimmering bhajans, sacred songs that floated like golden threads through the air. We sat together, meditated, sang, and listened to Amma’s words. I kept asking myself: Who is this woman? The people around her seemed to float—dressed in white kurtas and saris, glowing like little elves or fairies. My skeptical mind chuckled and said, Oh, here we go, Hari Krishna vibes, but I smiled at my own resistance and stayed open.
I met some of the most beautiful souls—and also some very challenging ones. Everyone arrives at the ashram carrying their whole story, their pain, their ego. Even the people closest to spiritual teachers, the ones you might admire, carry deep wounds. I learned that being “spiritual” doesn’t automatically make someone kind or evolved. It’s something I want to say gently: sometimes, you have to be most discerning with so-called spiritual people. Over time, I realized the most important relationship is the one you have with yourself—your own discernment, your own inner truth.
After India, I returned to Germany and resumed touring with the band. We had signed a big deal with a label, and on the outside, everything looked like success. But inside, something deeper was stirring. A question haunted me: Who am I without the makeup, without the applause, without the dresses and the lights? Who am I when no one is watching?
In 2012, I told the band I was leaving—to go to America.
I’m adopted, and my biological father was an American soldier stationed in Germany in the ’70s. Because of that, I had American citizenship. I always felt curious about America. Since I was 12, I imagined what it would be like to live there. At 15, I learned the truth—that I really was American. My grandmother told me. I grew up with a wonderful German family, and although my childhood was difficult at times, I am deeply grateful to them. They are my parents, no matter what.
Earlier this year, my father passed away unexpectedly. That loss still breaks my heart. He was the most gracious, supportive, loving father anyone could ask for. He came to every ballet recital, every band performance, and never once had a jealous or critical word. Just quiet pride. He was my rock, and I carry him with me every day.
On his birthday in 2013, I left Germany.
Of course, I was still caught in my old pattern—I was again in an unhealthy relationship, this time with someone I believed was spiritual. But three months in, I discovered he had a gambling and alcohol problem. He didn’t meditate or practice yoga. He just talked about it. And while he sent me out to build community, he didn’t participate himself. I stayed less than a year.
My first stop in the U.S. was New Orleans. I worked at a piano store as a piano teacher and began an intensive Bhakti yoga teacher training. Bhakti means devotion, and this training transformed me. I finally understood the mythology of India—the gods, the goddesses—and I fell in love with the music. It was the first time I wasn’t singing about men who left or broke my heart. I was singing love songs for God. That filled me on a level I had never known.
Still, New Orleans felt like it was pushing me out. I had just bought a car, and two weeks later, a drunk driver T-boned me. The car was totaled. It felt like a message: Go. Leave this man. Leave this city.
So I left. I moved to Santa Rosa Beach, Florida, and there, I flourished. I taught seven days a week—workshops in mantra, singing, chakra alignment, and yoga. I didn’t have a relationship for the first time in a long while. It was just me and my practice. I studied deeply, prepared my lessons with full heart. People at the local café told me they’d never seen a yoga teacher so dedicated.
During that time, I met Prudence Farrow—yes, the inspiration for the Beatles’ “Dear Prudence.” She initiated me into Transcendental Meditation. When I looked into her eyes, I saw the same spark I had seen in Amma’s.
After a year in Florida, I packed what little I had, left my grand piano with friends, and drove across the country to California with a trailer hitched to my car. It was wild, scary, and liberating. I remember gripping the steering wheel during tight turns and long stretches of highway, and imagining my father’s voice: “Just hold on, look straight ahead.”
And so I did.
When I arrived in California, I landed in Encinitas, right on the same street as the Self-Realization Fellowship Meditation Gardens. It felt like I had been gently placed in the arms of Paramahansa Yogananda himself. At that time, Encinitas felt like one big ashram. I loved every moment.
Soon, I found a beautiful piano studio where I began teaching voice and piano. I continued my music education, taking additional trainings, and taught yoga classes and workshops at various studios. But life here wasn’t easy. Everything is expensive, and it’s incredibly difficult to live alone in Southern California. Often, after long days of work, I would come back to the room I rented, exhausted, and spend time down at Swami’s Beach—taking naps on the big stones or recharging at coffee shops.
Eventually, I was able to build my own music business. Today, I teach from my own sweet little cottage, where my grand piano now lives. I had it shipped all the way from Florida, and the day we were reunited felt like a homecoming. I believe there’s a sacred connection between us—between me and this piano. As I like to say, “A piano plays the melody of your soul.”
But my journey hasn’t been smooth. There were still painful detours, including another difficult relationship marked by substance abuse. I stayed in that space—a kind of emotional haze—for over five years. Eventually, I found the strength to break free. It took everything I had. I had to learn how to speak kindly to myself, to gently coach myself back into wholeness. I wouldn’t have made it through without the help of a few close friends and some earth angels. I’ll always be grateful, even for the darkness. It shaped me.
During that time, I completed an in-depth holistic life coach training. It opened my eyes to so many limiting beliefs I had unknowingly carried for years. And while I know these patterns don’t disappear overnight, the true art is in noticing them, becoming aware, and lovingly returning to your center. It’s about practicing self-compassion—reminding yourself that you are worthy, even if you’re not perfect.
Today, it brings me immense joy to teach music to children and adults alike. Many of the parents I work with are incredibly kind, supportive, and generous. I also now have a private practice as a holistic life coach. I focus on supporting women—especially in their 50s, 60s, and 70s—who’ve been through challenging relationships and are ready for transformation. Women who are asking the question: “Who am I now?” Women who are ready to come home to themselves.
Recently, I discovered another calling: being a companion for the elderly. There’s nothing more humbling and beautiful than sitting with someone at the end of their life—brushing their hair, holding their hand, reminding them that they are loved and that their life was meaningful. One day, each of us will be in that place. And when that time comes, what will matter most is not how famous we were or how many followers we had, but who will sit beside us and whisper, “It’s okay to go now.”
It’s no longer about being on stage for me—it’s about preparing for the last stage of life. And yet, music remains a sacred thread. I’m part of a beautiful band called Shantaya and the Radiant Soulband, with two incredible musicians who feel like soul family. We rehearse in my cottage, sipping tea, laughing, and creating magic. We’ve had the honor of singing at Amma’s programs in L.A., and we have some concerts coming up— July 12th Pilgrimage of the Heart San Diego, July 19th Temple of Joy Encinitas.
Our music blends mantra with jazz and pop influences—it’s fun, heartfelt, and uplifting. It’s made to help people drop into their hearts and connect. We’ve recorded two chants—Atma Hrdaye and Ra Ma Da Sa—the latter of which played softly in my father’s hospital room as he was passing. In this chant we sing – feel with every breath you take, and every move you make be healed.
That is my prayer—for all of humanity. That one day we reach the golden truth. That there’s enough for everyone. That love returns in a healthy, whole form. That music continues to heal.
As for me, I’m dedicating whatever time I have left—however long or short it may be—to myself, my sweet little cat, and the divine presence within and around me. My journey is far from over. It’s still unfolding. And yes, it’s scary at times. But deep down, I know that I know… that I know.
There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?
One of the most important qualities I’ve cultivated is the ability to return to myself—to come back home to the stillness within when everything outside feels chaotic or painful. Life will challenge you. People will disappoint you. And you may find yourself lost in stories or illusions. But what’s essential is to see things clearly, without unnecessary drama. Recognize your emotions, yes—but don’t become them. And when someone hurts you, don’t carry the pain as a badge. Instead, try to look deeper. Ask yourself, What kind of pain must they carry to act this way? Then, send them love—from a distance if needed. You’re not required to stay in harmful situations, but you are called to remain honest and compassionate—with others and, most of all, with yourself.
A second quality that’s shaped my path is emotional resilience. The kind of resilience that doesn’t come from pushing through, but from feeling through. There were times I had to pick myself up off the ground—bruised emotionally, spiritually, even physically—and whisper to myself: Get up, my love. This is not the end. Resilience isn’t about perfection or positivity; it’s about presence. It’s about feeling the pain, but not letting it define your worth. My advice to anyone just starting out is this: build a toolbox. Have practices that ground you—whether that’s meditation, music, movement, or simply quiet walks in nature. The storms will come. Learn to bend, not break.
The third skill I’d highlight is discernment—learning to listen to the true voice within, not the voice of fear, ego, or other people’s expectations. I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) that not everyone who seems “spiritual” is kind. Not every opportunity is aligned with your path. You have to get really quiet to hear your own truth. This means taking time to reflect, to pray, to ask: Does this feel clean? Does this feel whole? And if something doesn’t feel right—don’t ignore it. Don’t wait for proof. Trust your inner knowing and walk away with grace. That’s not selfishness—that’s self-honoring. And there’s a big difference.
In the end, it’s not about becoming someone else. It’s about remembering who you are—and having the courage to live from that place, no matter what.
Awesome, really appreciate you opening up with us today and before we close maybe you can share a book recommendation with us. Has there been a book that’s been impactful in your growth and development?
There are a few books that have stayed close to my heart over the years. One of them is the Awakened Children series, a collection of stories from Amma’s ashram—real experiences from people who worked closely with her. These stories show how deeply Amma impacts people’s lives, often in quiet, profound ways.
But the book that I have read again and again, the one I would never let go of, is “To Know Yourself” by Swami Satchidananda. To me, once you’ve read this book, there’s almost nothing more you need to read. It’s simple, wise, and cuts through the noise.
One quote that struck me deeply is: “If you don’t like to play games, don’t have a love relationship.” That sounds humorous at first, but it hit me right in the heart—because I don’t like to play games. I want truth. I want sincerity. And that line gave me permission to honor that in myself.
He also says something I carry with me every day: “You come alone just to grow.” Life isn’t always about companionship or comfort—it’s about transformation. Swami Satchidananda compares the world to a big cosmic cooking pot. We’re all being roasted by our experiences, and the point isn’t to avoid the heat but to accept it. When we accept the “roasting,” the suffering turns into wisdom. That’s when we start to find peace.
There’s something so freeing about that. Instead of resisting pain, you can say, “Okay, Divine, roast me well. Let me be cooked through and through.” And when you’ve come out the other side, you can smile and say to someone else, “Don’t worry—you’ll be fully roasted soon too, and you’ll be happy like me.”
That kind of humor, humility, and depth is why I treasure this book so much. It keeps me grounded, honest, and able to laugh a little more at this human journey.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.shantayabholistic.solutions/
- Instagram: @shantayatheradiantsoul
- Youtube: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FRoBQD0Kgo8&pp=ygUVQXRtYSBocmRheWUgc2hhbnRheWEg
- Soundcloud: https://m.soundcloud.com/user-855022003/ra-ma-da-sa-master1-mp3?si=1181fc46d70c4ad9bfaba079ffbc9407&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
- Other: With my Band in Germany ( my birth name is Jenny and I spelled Bonilla different because the Germans wouldn’t know how to pronounce it.) 😉
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=NP1InDKtuQQ&pp=ygU1SmVubnkgQm9uZWphIGFuZCB0aGUgQmFsbHJvb21zaGFrZXJzIGNhbm5zdGFkdGVyIHdhc24%3D
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