Nele Vanheel lives in Ghent, Belgium, the city of her roots. She balances creative work with motherhood and the company of her cat. With a background in remedial pedagogy, she has walked a deep path of inner growth, integrating professional trainings with lived, embodied experience. As a contemporary mystica, her life and work are guided by inner wisdom and spiritual depth. Deeply intuitive and highly sensitive, Nele uses her sensitivity as a strength, a refined instrument to perceive, investigate, and transform. Her presence is grounded and attuned to what wants to emerge, carefully meeting others with clarity and openness. As an artist, she chooses her medium according to the message. Whether film, word or visual, she creates personal, authentic work with transformative intent. Through research, reflection and creativity, she inspires purpose-driven individuals and organisations to live their truth and fulfill their mission. Rooted in nature and led by intuition, Nele embraces a light footprint. Rather than possessions, she hopes to leave behind resonance: connection, empowerment, and love.
This article is written in English, to reflect Nele’s multilingual personal and professional network.
When I was preparing for my contribution to the Dabrowski Congress, I realized I didn’t just want to talk for an hour. I wanted to create something that would speak in a different way.
That’s how my film The Veil of Maya came to life. Many people have asked me why I chose to create this raw, poetic, autobiographical work. I will answer that question, but first, let me take you a few years back in time…
Autumn 2016, exactly one year after giving birth to my daughter. As the trees began transforming their colors, I received an unexpected gift: a severe burnout. I suffered from extreme exhaustion and pressure-induced urticaria, making it impossible to sleep. All sensory input became unbearably intense. I could no longer leave the safe space of my bedroom.
For over a year, I recovered mostly in solitude. During this time, I experienced a deep and lasting moment of awakening. It left a profound impression, although initially, I had no idea what had happened. All thoughts, emotions, longing and judgments suddenly vanished, leaving only a vast, quiet stillness. In the absence of inner chatter, sensory input became almost overwhelming. But the peace surrounding it was so deep, it felt like a blessing. In fact, bliss felt like a permanent state.
I remember riding my bike at night, watching the way the lanterns cast light on the branches of the trees. Feeling the cold wind brushing the skin of my face.
I was in awe…as if I were experiencing it all for the very first time.
Then came the sound of an approaching car. I could hear it from unusually far away. By the time it passed me, it felt as if I were the tires touching the asphalt.
I could feel the impact and understood, on some deep intuitive level, why that sound existed. So raw. So loud. And at the same time: intensely beautiful.
After a week of living in this heightened state, I felt things slowly returning to what we call “normal.”
A longing arose: a desire to understand what had happened to me. I began searching online. I had been meditating daily for four years, and I sensed that this state resembled something I had touched during meditation but far more intensely. A few clicks online led me to enlightenment and non-duality. Reading about these concepts helped me stay close to the experience as it began to fade. For several months, I immersed myself in books and texts on the subject.
As my body still needed deep rest, and I continued to spend time in solitude, I began meditating for hours each day. Sometimes in silence, other times guided by contemporary teachers of non-duality.
Around the same time, I began practicing yoga at home. I followed online sessions with Yoga With Adriene, who lovingly encouraged me to “Find what feels good.” Honestly, at that moment, I had been so disconnected from my emotions, my sensations, my entire body, that I truly had no idea what “feeling good” meant. I realized I had spent years prioritizing other people’s needs over my own. I had adapted myself to fit in socially, to such an extent that I no longer knew what I needed or wanted. Through this physical practice of “finding what feels good”, a reconnection with my intuition was being initiated. Exploring what feels good turned into a beautiful journey, both on and off the yoga mat.
I discovered how much I love simply being present, fully, with whatever unfolds in the moment. Hearing the birds sing. Feeling raindrops on my face. Watching a sunset. Sensing how music vibrates through my skin and muscles. I also rediscovered the joy of play. Spontaneous, childlike playfulness…and how much lightness and freedom it brought. Playing in the playground, climbing trees…
After another year, I started to feel physically stronger as I gradually built more strength. At the same time, I noticed that reading about non-duality no longer brought new insights. It didn’t deepen my understanding any further, nor did it change the way I experienced everyday life. By then, the vast space of inner peace and trust had become so deeply integrated in me that it started to feel natural. I found myself welcoming everything.
And that raised new questions. If everything is always exactly as it should be…If I accept the present moment unconditionally…Then how do I respond when I witness injustice? Is it even okay to respond at all? And if so, how? How do I set boundaries? Can I set boundaries at all, while staying aligned with what I now understood so deeply?
I began teaching yoga. First to children, later to adults and seniors. Soon after, I began offering therapeutic sessions for children and their families, drawing on my background as a child development specialist.
That’s when I came across a training on systems theory; a perspective that sees personal struggles not just as individual issues, but as expressions of deeper dynamics withing the family, often quietly passed on through generations. It marked the start of a new, profound chapter in my own healing journey. At the end of the program, during a closing ritual, we were invited to present our family system in a safe and supportive setting.
I remember the smell of coffee and oranges in the room, as I carefully chose small figurines to represent my family members. I remember the warmth and attentiveness of the people around me, who listened without judgment.
Then, suddenly…It hit me. In one single instant, I saw everything that had gone wrong in my childhood. And with it came a cascade of insights and questions. Not only about the past, but also about the future.
The training had suggested something I couldn’t easily dismiss: To find your unique place in the world, you first have to find your unique place within your family of origin. I wondered…could this really be true? Deep down, my heart already knew the answer.
I decided to test it, because…What if it is true? What if things really do start flowing more easily the moment you take your rightful place in the family? What would that feel like? What would it look like?
I hoped it would at least soften the constant physical tension and pain I carried in my body every day. I started to explore this idea in my daily life. How do you take a place that is totally out of your lens, completely unknown terrain, because you have never ever felt or taken that place before in your life?
The intention was there, and I had a strong will to make it happen. I felt a great urge and drive, longing to clear the path for my daughter along the road as well.
I paid close attention to the dynamics in my family: in conversations, at gatherings, and even in my own thoughts and feelings. Slowly but surely, I began to notice patterns I hadn’t seen before. I saw where I had unconsciously taken on roles or responsibilities that weren’t truly mine. And I realized how much energy it cost me to keep these patterns alive.
It was like waking up from a long sleep, finally recognizing who I really was, beyond the expectations and demands of others.
Somewhere along the way, I met Lotte van Lith, who introduced me to Dabrowski’s Theory of Positive Disintegration. It gave me fresh perspective, a kind of roadmap showing where I was headed, and who I could become. It helped me make sense of the chaos I often felt inside.
Alongside yoga and meditation, I naturally developed new self-therapeutic tools. One of these was an intuitive practice I later learned is called “authentic movement”: standing in my living room, asking my body what wanted to emerge, then simply observing what happened. I welcomed whatever arose, supported by the wide inner space I carried. I allowed emotions, thoughts, and sensations to flow through, knowing none of them defined who I truly am.
Sometimes, waves of intense crying surfaced, rooted deep in my belly. Other times, bursts of fierce rage took over, my breath quickening, movements growing wild, lightning-like flashes until a loud scream escaped. Often, vivid memories accompanied these physical expressions.
I realized these were delayed reactions to past trauma, finally finding their way to the surface. At first, I felt exhausted afterward. But once the tiredness passed, my body felt lighter, as if shedding a layer that was never truly mine.
As I continued this inner exploration, I noticed something shifting inside me: a growing sense of freedom and lightness. The more I stepped into my true place, the less I felt weighed down by invisible chains. Old fears, doubts, and the need for approval started to lose their grip.
I experienced this “Inner Child Work” as profoundly healing.
It helped me release emotional blocks that had been stored in my body for years. For as long as I could remember, I had suffered from deep, persistent aches: tension locked into my neck, back, and shoulders. I remember crying myself to sleep on more than one occasion, overcome by pain and the quiet fear that I might never live a pain-free life.
But through these intuitive practices, the tension began to soften, layer by layer. The pain lessened. And eventually, it disappeared altogether.
As I started trusting my intuition more, it led me to meet so many wonderful people across Europe. Each of them played a role in my unfolding.
I took a one-on-one training in performance art with Jessica Van Deursen. She saw an urge in me, the drive to show myself fully. To stand tall in who I am, and to follow the creative impulse that asked to be expressed. With Eva Kamala Rodenburg as my mentor, I began the Iyengar Yoga teacher training, a dynamic form of yoga that emphasizes alignment and precision, using careful detail and props to let each pose reveal its own depth. There, I met beautiful co-students, many of whom have become dear friends.
I still found myself enjoying the moment, dancing and playing, sharing these moments with my young daughter, meeting her with a deeper ease and openness. Instead of constantly watching over her shoulder, trying to control or to correct, I started to simply witness her with loving eyes. What a joy she brings into my life. Allowing her to make her own mistakes. Making space for her to explore, fall, and learn, just as I had been learning myself. My focus shifted from fear of doing it wrong (as a mother, as a person) to the simple, grounding love I felt for her…and for life.
Along the way, I began to notice something remarkable: everything I needed seemed to appear at just the right time. Following my intuition, I came into contact with Daivika (the sound of running water) and with Zoë Joncheere, whose practice Nobody’s Dance became another blessing on my path. Both women offered, in their own unique style, deeply intuitive, embodied work: rooted in family constellations, energy healing, and a surrender to whatever wants to move through.
As always, I dove in deep. But this time, the process unfolded within a group. Not long before, I would have found that unthinkable. To cry, to show anger, to let others witness the parts of me I had spent a lifetime hiding…I simply wouldn’t have allowed it. I wouldn’t have brought such a burden into the space of others.
But now, surrounded by warmth and safety, I found myself laughing, crying and eventually even expressing anger, held in a field of unconditional presence. I can’t fully put into words what happened during those constellations and sessions. But I know this: it was exactly what my body, heart, and soul needed, to restore.
After all the cognitive work I had done, this was another essential layer. A physical, emotional, and spiritual release. It was through these processes that I first felt what it means to truly take my place, in my family of origin, and in life itself.
I remember one session vividly. My representative mother looked at me with such tenderness, the sunlight catching her face, soft and radiant. She told me she was proud of who I had become. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Warmth flooded through my body, from the center of my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes.
A deep, nourishing love, one I hadn’t even realized I had missed so much. To feel seen like that… It overwhelmed me. But it also made me smile. Tears of joy. Gratitude.
And what healed in those constellations…I watched it ripple outward into my life, effortlessly. Subtle shifts, deep changes.
People appeared. Places, moments, situations…all arriving without me needing to search. Each one offering exactly what I needed to keep healing.
My intuitive feeling deepened. And for the first time, I recognized the guidance I had actually been receiving all along…through synchronicities, through symbols in nature, through music, through the gestures and words of children and loved ones.
Looking back, it feels as though it was all orchestrated so beautifully. It never required effort. Only my openness to receive.
I found myself ready now to meet everything that scared me. If fear arose in a situation, I saw this as an opportunity: I knew something was still to be healed. So I began to embrace these experiences unconditionally. Turning away meant holding things in, and holding in unnecessarily takes energy.
Everything I disliked in another person, I realized, was also a part of myself. Each time I compassionately looked fear in the eye long enough for it to leave my system, I grew more confident.
One afternoon, I found myself on a train to a small town where I had lived as a teenager. That morning, I had received a brief phone call from a man I used to know. He invited me to visit a cabin in the woods. This was someone I remembered vividly. He had been a friend of my parents, someone who occasionally came to our home. Back then, he had been dominant and verbally aggressive. The kind of person who made others feel small just by entering a room. I remembered the nausea he evoked in me, how I would shrink in his presence, feeling meaningless and invisible.
This was the man I had agreed to meet, just a 15-minute train ride away. Now, on this train, the fear came back with full force. A tightness wrapped around my chest. Breathing became difficult. I felt my posture collapse in on itself, my shoulders sinking inward as pressure built around my heart and lungs.
I texted my mother to let her know where I was, just so someone knew.
As the train pulled into the station, I thought of staying on board, riding past, escaping the situation. But I knew that would only be postponing the inevitable.
So I got off. At the bottom of the staircase, in the cold wind of the underpass, I saw him standing.
But something had changed. His posture was smaller now. His energy fragile. His body trembled slightly, and although a smile hovered on his face, it couldn’t hide the pain behind his eyes. As I approached him, the fear in me dissolved. He had aged…yes. But more importantly: I had grown. I had outgrown this fear. Outgrown the version of myself who used to shrink in his presence. A quiet thought passed through me: With the strength I’ve built, I can handle this now.
We went to visit the cabin in the woods. And that evening, back at home, my body released the last remnants of pressure…through tears, soft and cleansing. I’m still deeply grateful for that encounter. We met several times in the months that followed, and each time I felt myself grow stronger. I learned how to hold my ground, how to express myself clearly, and how to set my boundaries, without fear.
By facing fears this way, and with them the darker sides of myself, I transformed old situations into something new. I did this by intuitively following “invitations”: moments that asked me to show up, to say yes, to go where once I would have turned away.
Situations that used to feel threatening slowly lost their grip. Again and again, the outcome followed a similar theme: This version of me responds differently. No longer staying silent. No longer taking on shame or blame. Instead, I express myself. In doing so, I receive support and appreciation, even in the hardest moments.
Through these experiences, deep wounds within me healed. And with that, I discovered the power of simply being myself. The value I bring. More than anything, I now feel safe and at home. Within myself. And wherever I go.
Looking back now I feel nothing but gratitude. It wasn’t always easy, I can assure this. But I can see the wonder of it all. The quiet miracle of what life creates through us, when we stay open to what wants to come.
So why did I create this film?
When I was invited to contribute to the Dabrowski Congress 2024, I wanted to create an intimate yet powerful experience designed to bring Dabrowski’s theory of positive disintegration to life.
With the help of fantastic cameraman and editor Michaël Van Overmeire, who has an uncanny ability to be fully present in each moment and to capture everything that arises beautifully on screen, we made The Veil of Maya. This poetic, autobiographical short film shows self-therapeutic skills, multilevel disintegration, development, and the value-driven life I now lead. I wanted it to be a true artistic work: open and inviting, leaving space for your own interpretation.
The Veil of Maya dives deep into emotional development and intense inner searching through raw vulnerability, intimate reflections, and contemplative visuals. Inspired by the ancient Sanskrit concept of Maya, the veil of illusion, it gently invites you to peel back the layers of conditioning and expectation, and reconnect with your true self beneath.
More than a film, it is a moment of resonance, a soft revolution. Created as part of the congress theme, Living the Theory, it shows how inner chaos and psychological disintegration can lead to growth, transcendence, and a meaningful life.
My hope is that, in watching it, you may recognize parts of your own journey, and feel inspired to keep going. To trust the path through the chaos. To feel more confident, more powerful, in meeting daily life as it comes.
I invite you to watch the trailer below, and discover if the story speaks to you.
Eventually, I felt and knew: The heaviest healing work has been done. I was no longer moving through life to survive or recover…but to create.
I had found who I am. I had fully integrated my place in the family I came from. The relationship with my mother is healed. And so is the connection with my late father.
I’ve found my place as a middle child, held between two sisters: one who’s lived among the stars for all of her life, and one whose children I now get to love as their aunt. And me…standing right in the middle, exactly where I’m meant to be.
For the first time in my life, I feel surrounded. Seen. Supported. I no longer carry it all alone. There are wonderful people beside me. Hands I can hold. Help I can receive, not just from others, also from life itself.
It’s as if my soul and I finally found each other, and said yes. Yes to the mission I came here for. Yes to the life I once only dreamed of.
My journey continues, through new creations, new connections, and new ways of sharing this unfolding path.
You’re warmly welcome to follow along or reach out – on Instagram @heelvannele or via my website www.heelvannele.be
Some of the people and practices that have shaped my path:
– Yoga With Adriene (Adriene Mishler) — accessible online yoga classes
– Lotte van Lith (a lot of complexity) — guidance and education around giftedness and existential development
– Jessica Van Deursen — performance art and artistic presence
– Eva Kamala Rodenburg — Iyengar Yoga classes and teacher training
– Zoë Joncheere (Amiglia) — movement, presence, and language-based inquiry
– Daivika (The Sound of Running Water) — constellation work, and energy work
– Michaël Van Overmeire (kamer 80) — cinematography and editing of The Veil of Maya