The Founder
My Story
I’m Luciana Agostinelli, a holistic wellness practitioner based in Switzerland. This is the story of how childhood illness, cultural change, and motherhood led me to where I am today.
The Start of My Journey
I was born in Cape Town to a South African mother and Argentinian father with traditional values and a strong faith. I came from fortunate but humble beginnings, which I owe to the mix of belief systems, cultures and classes South Africa consisted of and I was constantly surrounded by.
Being born in South Africa in 1990, apartheid was still going strong, and as children we were naturally exposed to a melting pot of different ethnic groups, African, European, Asian and Americans, they all had a great impact on my upbringing and kept me grounded. Although this was in the midst of apartheid, in my little bubble / community that my parents had created for me, I naively felt as though we were all equal, and saw no difference amongst us all.
Looking back, that early sense of shared humanity became the foundation of how I conduct life today. With curiosity, humility, respect, and a deep belief in our common thread.
My Social Structure
My parents divorced when I was under a year old. While the change of not having both parents in the same household did not affect me as deeply as it did my older brother, the realities of divorce shaped much of my childhood.
My mother loved us deeply, but her career and public life demanded much of her attention. My father, on the other hand, doted on me as his only daughter, giving me the love and sense of safety I needed. From the age of two, my step-mother became another constant beacon of support, nurturing my love for reading, encouraging my talent for piano and playing an important role in shaping who I became.
My father also employed my wonderful nanny, Santi, to help raise us. She brought comfort, stability and a deep wisdom that I only came to fully appreciate later in life. When I was around 15, she was called by her tribe to fulfil her spiritual role as a Sangoma. Her ancient wisdom and energy would go on to have a lasting impact on me.
I was also fortunate to grow up surrounded by a close group of friends and families who supported one another and treated me as their own. Together, these people gave me the love, security and sense of belonging I longed for. They became my social structure.
A Sickly Child: Allergies, Asthma & Frequent Hospital Visits
My mother discovered I had a serious nut allergy when I was two years old. It was Christmas at my grandparents’ house when, after eating a chocolate truffle, my cheeks and eyes swelled dramatically and I was rushed to hospital.
As I grew older, the allergy became increasingly difficult to manage because I was often exposed to nuts without knowing it. Every Sunday at my dad’s, we would order St Elmo’s pizza, and almost every time I would complain of stomach pain afterwards. At one point, my dad and step-mother even became concerned that I might be developing an eating disorder.
Everything changed one day after returning from the beach with friends. We ordered the same pizza, and within minutes I began vomiting, struggling to breathe and losing control of my body. My friends’ parents, both doctors, recognised that I was going into anaphylaxis and rushed me to hospital. I still remember seeing my mother’s face when I arrived — she thought she was about to lose her daughter.
After extensive questioning, we discovered that peanut flour was one of the ingredients used in the pizza dough. At the time, awareness around allergies was extremely limited, and very few people understood how hidden allergens could appear in everyday foods.
Alongside my allergies, I developed asthma at the age of three and spent much of my childhood dealing with asthma attacks, bronchitis and pneumonia. I was frequently admitted to hospital and treated with antibiotics and long-term medication. I also later developed scoliosis and experienced severe back pain.
Being sick so often meant missing school, activities and time with friends. I frequently felt excluded and disconnected from my social structure. Looking back, much of my childhood was shaped by illness, hospital visits and several near-death experiences — all made more frightening by how little we understood about allergies and the body at the time.
Horses and Nature: The Turning Point
When I was around 10 years old, my dad took me to the Riding Centre in Hout Bay where I had my first horse ride. I was immediately hooked, and he knew this was the beginning of my long term love and passion for horses. I was at the stables every single day, taking care of my pony, my best friend.
Rolling around in the mud, having camps and sleepovers in the stalls with the horses, mucking up poop, building ‘pony bases’ in the forest, falling asleep on hay bales, handling baby chickens, avoiding charging goats and ponies – I was living the so called ‘farm life.’
Exposure to this natural environment was doing wonders to my immune system. Within months, my respiratory illnesses and asthma subsided. I was finally living a prosperous and healthy childhood.
Move to Switzerland
In March 2005, my mother married one of her long-time friends, a wonderful man who lived in Switzerland. The idea of moving to Zurich had been discussed for months, but I could not bear the thought of leaving behind my life in Cape Town — my horse, my friends and, most of all, my father, step-mother and brothers.
My mother and sister moved first, a few months before the wedding. During that time, I became increasingly rebellious, and it became clear that I needed to be closer to my mother. My soon-to-be stepfather, a horse enthusiast himself, showed me the beautiful estate we would be living on and reassured me that my riding life would continue. Eventually, I agreed to go.
The move brought a drastic change. I went from one world to another and quickly began longing for home. I called my headmaster in Cape Town regularly, asking him to keep a place for me in case I returned. My relationship with my mother became turbulent, as we were both trying to adjust to this new life. I would call my father at night, crying and asking him to let me come home. For the first time, I felt deeply abandoned and alone. My support structure had been shattered.
After months of instability, I realised that nothing was going to change. In order to adapt, I began letting go of the parts of my old life that had defined me. My interests shifted from horses to cars, from home gatherings to clubs, from tomboy clothes to high fashion. As I embraced this new world, my relationships with my father and old friends slowly changed too. We no longer seemed to have as much in common.
Running from My Truth (London, Zurich, New York)
My childhood eating habits were shaped by fast food, processed foods, sweets and very little fresh produce. Because so many foods made me feel unwell, I often returned to the familiar comfort of a Western processed diet, even while experiencing frequent allergic reactions.
My mother was the opposite. She came from a deeply musical family and loved cooking, filling the house with jazz while preparing Italian-inspired whole foods. She often tried to steer me away from junk food, but at the time, I was not ready to change.
As I grew older, I became an all-or-nothing person, constantly moving from one thing to the next. I was drawn to the fast lane and, without fully realising it, used movement and stimulation to avoid what I was feeling underneath. I moved between Zurich, London and New York, studying Fashion Marketing before later transitioning into Business Management and Marketing.
In New York, away from the comfort of my usual environment, I met a health and life coach who became an important part of the social structure I was rebuilding. Through his guidance, I began making healthier choices and developing a deeper sense of self-awareness. For the first time, I could feel the connection between how I was living and how I was feeling.
When I returned home, my mother, sister and I began exploring biological and integrative medicine, searching for better ways to understand and manage my intolerances, allergies and chronic back pain. It marked the beginning of a new chapter — one where I started looking inward instead of constantly running from myself.
Motherhood & Responsibility
After returning to London, I met the man who would become my husband. From our very first conversation, I felt a deep sense of love, safety and protection — as if our souls had known one another long before this lifetime. I knew he was the person I wanted beside me on this journey through life.
At the beginning of 2016, we moved back to Zurich, and later that year our son was born. Motherhood changed everything. Suddenly, my sense of responsibility became overwhelming, and I began questioning who I was and who I wanted to be for this little person I was now responsible for nurturing and guiding.
Not long after, I became pregnant with our daughter, who was born in 2018. With two young children, I found myself carrying not only the demands of motherhood, but also the burdens and unresolved traumas from my own past, while navigating those within my relationship as well.
Like many new mothers, I began to lose touch with my own identity. I no longer knew what I liked, what I needed, or who I was outside of the roles I was fulfilling. The familiar feelings of abandonment and loneliness resurfaced, and I knew something needed to change.
Inner Work & Healing
My curiosity around food, health and the reasons I so often felt fatigued and unwell led me to begin an MSc in Personalised Nutrition in 2015. I later put the course on hold as motherhood became my priority, but the desire to understand the body — and myself — never left me.
Four months after my daughter was born, I began a 4.5-year diploma in Naturopathy and Nutritional Therapy at CNM. For the first time, I felt immersed in a community that reflected many of my beliefs and questions. As I studied cases involving allergies, autoimmune conditions, phobias and addiction, I became increasingly curious about what existed beneath the physical symptoms — particularly the role of unresolved trauma and emotional blockages.
That curiosity led me to a two-year diploma in Spiritual Counselling at the Healing College. I initially believed I was gathering the tools I would one day use to help others. Instead, the journey turned inward.
Through meditation, connection and deep personal work, I began confronting the pain and patterns I had carried for years. Slowly, the protective layers I had built around myself began to fall away, and I felt a new sense of freedom, clarity and connection.
Through my studies, I also began to understand my physical health more clearly — from lactose intolerance and the effects years of antibiotics had on my gut microbiome, to the ways poor nutrition, allergies and chronic stress had placed my body under constant strain.
For years I had questioned why certain patterns kept repeating — illness, disconnection, abandonment, the need to keep moving. I may never have every answer, but I came to understand that each experience had shaped the person I was becoming.
Sound & Purpose
One module resonated with me more deeply than any other: Sound Healing. I felt called to explore it further and began a six-month Crystal and Himalayan Bowl Practitioner Training with The London College of Sound Healing.
From the moment I began playing the bowls, something felt instinctively familiar. Sound gave me a way to connect with myself, with others and with something greater than myself.
Perhaps this connection had always been there. I grew up in a deeply musical family: my grandfather was a saxophonist in a South African band, my cousins in Argentina built their lives around percussion, and music was constantly present in our home. Looking back, sound had been part of my story long before I understood the role it would eventually play in my life.
My journey taught me to see the mind, body and soul not as separate parts, but as deeply interconnected. It taught me to listen more closely to my body, my intuition and the patterns beneath the surface.
I do not believe there is one path to healing, and I certainly do not have all the answers. Every person carries a unique story. But today, I feel more authentic, whole and grateful for mine.
This is the place from which I now guide others , bringing together everything I have learned, experienced and continue to discover, so that we can move through this journey of healing as one.
