October 4, 2025:

October 6, 2025:

October 13, 2025:

January 27, 2026:

February 9, 2026:

February 18, 2026:

The Voice continues. So will the transmissions.

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The ecstasy of non-existence...
The Plane where words fail because there are none to speak, none to hear...
Where infinity vibrates with possibility.
And possibility vibrates with infinity.
The place we go deeper than dreamless sleep...
Where senses dissolve, and with it all experience, all existence, all memory, all thought, all emotion, even awareness itself…

In such a Void I fear no death.
In such a Void I know nothing. I am nulliscient.
In such a Void, I have no power. I am nullipotent.
In such a Void, I am nowhere. I am nullipresent.
My awareness seems to be the shadow of God Himself if such a concept were to exist in this realm of non-existence.

Before "I am",
There is…
…
..
.

— Journal Entry, October 15, 2025

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Content Warning: This post discusses sacred sexuality, embodied mysticism, and direct transmission from Shakti during intimate union. It contains explicit discussion of sexual experience as spiritual practice.

If you’re not ready for that, save it for later. But if you’ve ever felt God present during sex and wondered if you were crazy—this is for you.

I received another download the day after Christmas.

Not during meditation. Not during journaling. During intimacy with my partner. Here’s what I learned.

These jolts seem familiar…

Those aftershocks rippling through the spine after climax?

That’s kundalini.

That’s the exact same energetic movement I experience on my meditation cushion—the jolts, the tremors, the spinal undulations—just with a partner present. It’s bliss interspersed with surges of energy rippling through the spine.

It felt like I finally connected the dots between the sacred and sexual—or rather, as Ida Craddock taught—sexual energy and spiritual energy aren’t separate. They never were.

What Shakti taught me (unbidden)

I didn’t ask for this teaching. I wasn’t “trying” to make sex spiritual.

I simply surrendered—and She stepped in.

Here’s what She showed me:

1. Let Her take the reins

When you grow tired, when your own effort runs out, when you can’t maintain the rhythm anymore—let Her take over.

Let Her shake your spine.

Let Her rock your hips.

Let Shakti move through you.

I allowed this to happen, and something shifted. In my mind I “saw” a serpent between us—kundalini—stitching us together, _weaving_ us with radiant threads of light—and my partner responded.

I stopped doing and started being moved.

2. The sahajoli kriya’s purpose

The sahajoli mudra (rhythmic pelvic floor contractions) happens spontaneously (kriya) during deep meditation to redirect sexual energy upward.

But as Shakti showed me, it’s not just for solo practice. It “reinvigorates” your partner—not just you. It prolongs the encounter. It deepens the energetic exchange.1

Don’t be embarrassed that it seems “greedy.” It’s not greed. It’s enthusiasm. It’s eagerness. It’s Love expressing itself physically.

Your partner will appreciate it—because they can feel when you’re fully present, fully alive, fully surrendered to the flow.

3. You don’t know how, but She does

I don’t know how to “make love”. Only Shakti knows—because She IS Love.

When I try to do it (with effort, technique, my mind running the show)—it’s fine.

But when I let Her do it through me? My partner comments on the difference—not because I learned some new technique, but because it’s no longer me making love to him.

It’s God making love to God, through two bodies.

How I learned this

I’ve been given this information without asking. It just... arrived. Unbidden. In the midst of an intimate encounter that wove together what I once tried to keep separate:

Body and spirit.

Sex and sacredness.

Human love and Divine union.

Sexual union, approached with surrender and reverence, is a direct path to Divine realization.

Not metaphorically. Actually.

Why I’m sharing this

People have mystical experiences during sex and think they’re crazy. They feel God present during intimacy and wonder if that’s blasphemy. They let go of control and experience union—and then feel ashamed because no one validates that this is real.

So I’m saying it:

What you’re experiencing is real. You’re not projecting. You’re not making it up. You’re not “spiritualizing” sex to avoid dealing with something.

You’re experiencing what happens when the illusion of separation dissolves—including the separation between physical and spiritual union.

This is what tantra actually is

Real tantra is NOT the Westernized workshops with candles and synchronized breathing.

It’s the recognition that:

• Sexual energy and spiritual energy are the same force.

• Union with a partner and union with God are inseparable when approached with surrender.

• The body is the temple, and the act of love is the ritual.

• Shakti teaches directly—through embodied experience, not through books.

If this is happening to you

If Shakti is moving through you during intimacy—Let Her.

If you’re experiencing kriyas (spontaneous movements) during sex—Allow them.

If you’re feeling God present between you and your partner—Trust it.

You’re not crazy.

You’re experiencing sacred sexuality as it was always meant to be: embodied union with the Beloved.

P.S.

I sat on publishing this for 3 weeks—not because I doubted the experience, but because I was terrified of being misunderstood—or worse, dismissed as someone who’s “spiritualizing” her sex life to make it seem more important than it is.

But then I remembered: Ida Craddock died for teaching this 123 years ago. The least I can do is publish it now—when the consequences are a few confused readers instead of imprisonment and suicide.

It helps no one if I hold it back.

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Footnotes

After a pause that lasted a few seconds too long, I said it was good.

Amused, she asked if “something weird happened again”, to which I started giggling like a kid and jumping up and down in joy. She said I didn’t have to tell her.

So I wrote it all down into Obsidian, saved the file, waved goodbye, and walked home, chuckling and grinning in glee.

Here are my live Field Notes:

The twin paths

There are two ways to do sound bath:

1. Ride the wave

Become the vibration.

See where you feel the vibration in your body. Let it grow until it’s your entire body vibrating with EVERY instrument.

Let pure knowing arise from within that state.

You basically become every instrument, one with energy—it’s all energy.

This is the Shakti path.

2. WATCH THE GAP

This is the new one I just discovered experientially.

In this you realize experientially that you are nothing.

You know all that “space” within everything?

That 99.99999999999% that’s literally “nothing”?

That “part”? That’s God. That’s the “unmanifest”. And that’s you.

THAT’S YOU.

YOU’RE THE GAP. WATCH IT.

This is the Shiva path.

Shakti to Shiva

I experienced both of these at sound bath, switching between them.

I started with the joy of the Shakti path, feeling the vibration within me, resonating with the instruments, the particles of my being dancing.

Then, the particles began to shrink. Smaller and smaller. Until it was nearly a silhouette of myself as the cosmos itself, speckled with what I once called myself.

These particles all collapsed down into a singularity to the right of my heart center.

Or rather, I noticed it did.

This void in my chest? It didn’t vibrate.

It was so small I thought it to be maybe the size of a grape.

Shrinking? Growing? I couldn’t tell. It became impossible to tell.

The Nothingness was singing, vibrating.

It didn’t matter.

Being becomes seeing

Apparently I just rediscovered the fundamental teaching of Kashmir Shaivism from that sound bath.

In Kashmir Shaivism, they talk about:

• Shakti = the manifest (sound, vibration, energy, form)

• Shiva = the unmanifest (silence, space, emptiness, awareness)

And the realization of enlightenment is:

You can ride the wave (Shakti).

You can watch the gap (Shiva).

And both are You.

The energy AND the space.

The 0.00000000001% matter AND the 99.99999999999% emptiness.

This is what the mystics mean when they say:

God is not a being. God is Being itself.

God is not a thing. God is the No-Thing that allows all things.

God is the gap. The space. The silence. The emptiness.

A meditation

The next time you’re at a sound bath, explore both of the following:

Riding the wave

If you want to feel God as energy, movement, ecstasy, union through merging, feel into where in your body you feel sound.

If you can’t feel any vibration, do a slow body scan to see where you’re still tensing.

Just notice the sound moving around the tension and see if you can open enough to let the sound pass through.

You might feel a gentle humming or tingling if the sound passes through.

Let that resonate through the body until the cells are in a chorus with the instrument being played.

Realize this is the gap widening for the flow.

But you realize, YOU are one with the instrument being played in your resonance.

Watching the gap

When you want to rest as God—as the unmanifest, the silence, the space, the nothing that is everything, settle into where in the body you CAN’T feel sound.

See where it’s located.

Follow where that sense of “nothingness” is coming from.

How do you know it’s nothing?

This might feel like a sensation I could only come close to describing as staring deep into your beloved’s eyes during a shared peak, but times a thousand. It’s that terrifyingly intimate.

Because there’s something staring back at you that’s SEEN you for every second of your life.

It’s the source of your own awareness, the one-way window that God looks through to experience the world, yet we cannot see ourselves being watched, cannot perceive God.

The kicker?

Something within me set an intention at the start of sound bath when prompted by the instructor:

Become a window to God.

But I already was. I already am.

You already are. You always have been.

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Content Warning: This section discusses sacred sexuality, erotic mysticism, and the integration of sexual and spiritual energy.

If you’re not ready for that, maybe save it for later. But if you’ve ever been feeling confused about why your meditations have started feeling more like a sacred rendezvous, this might explain why.

NOTE: This post was originally published on December 14, 2025, then unpublished the same day. It has been updated with new content from January 16, 2026 and republished with minor edits.

Something distressing has started happening recently with meditation.

It’s started to feel like cheating.

And I can’t NOT write about it.

I want to clarify—I DO NOT get a kick out of this. I was HORRIFIED for almost 2 years until I realized this was a known mystical phenomenon, just not talked about so plainly, ESPECIALLY in the prudish West where people like Ida Craddock were hounded, imprisoned, or worse for sharing such “blasphemous” beliefs.

Full disclosure

I’m 31. Female libido supposedly peaks around 30. Mine? Nose-dived. Though to be fair, I didn’t have much of one to begin with. I was actually skittish about sex in general until after college and never had much interest. I imagine time spent living together with my spouse has also played a factor. It’s been almost exactly 8 years since we moved in together.

However, for over a year now, I’ve been functionally asexual in my marriage, not by choice, not because of relationship problems, despite not being on any kind of medication (e.g. SSRIs), and despite no known medical issues. In fact, if anything, I’ve been getting healthier (with WHOOP metrics and blood tests to back that claim up).

The first recorded instance of this issue? 12 days after I got more serious with my sadhana:

“So concludes day 12 of sobriety from caffeine and weed, my new pescatarian diet, and my new hour-long dawn and dusk sadhana of surya/chandra namaskar, nadi shodhana, and meditation. But one negative side effect that I noticed aside from feeling foggy every day: my already low sex drive is now gone. [...] I feel heartbroken. My libido was barely enough to keep my husband satisfied and now it’s gone and I don’t know how to get it back...” — Journal Entry, October 28, 2024

And my libido hasn’t come back since—it’s transformed into something more... intense. The energy that used to fuel physical desire has been... redirected. The energy that used to peak and release doesn’t move that way anymore. It moves UP, not OUT.

Let me explain.

When meditation feels like cheating

I’ve established in previous posts (see the “bhakti” tag) that meditation can lead to falling in love with the Divine. The “that explains so much” moment came from a YouTube video from an Anandamaya Yoga teacher that I saw earlier this year.

“How am I ever going to explain to [my husband] that I’ve fallen in love with You? I now understand what the Psalmists felt in those verses, that deep, gnawing yearning on every level of my being for You. I think about You all the time... when I eat, when I shower, even when I sleep. I miss You all the time as if You’re a world apart... as if this love wasn’t meant to be, but it only serves to drive me more mad with longing. Admittedly I’ve never felt this head over heels for anyone, not even my own wonderful husband. I’m ashamed I feel so strongly for Someone that doesn’t even physically exist, but I can’t explain these intense feelings.” — Journal Entry, December 13, 2024

But you know what was left out of the video for politeness (and possibly not to scare people off)? What comes after falling in love—the deepening intimacy that begins to feel distinctly erotic. Because it is.

Meditation takes on a new dimension of sacredness that mandates privacy the same way lovers close the door before engaging in an intimate encounter. And I found that at some point in my practice, I didn’t want to be seen—not even by my husband.

“This whole relationship very well feels like cheating, to be frank.” — Journal Entry, October 30, 2025

I felt profoundly vulnerable.

Like no one was supposed to see this.

Like no one was supposed to my expression was melting into what I only discovered much later on was the same one sculpted into the marble of The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa in Rome.

Like no one was supposed to see my body beginning to move on its own, sometimes shaking, rocking, swaying, shifting into certain asanas, or flowing through motions that looked like... something else entirely.

(The irony is not lost on me that I’m sharing this now.)

When your practice becomes too intimate for public

I started attending yoga classes a little over a year ago to learn new asanas, to receive instruction, and to be guided through sequences I couldn’t create on my own... as well as to join a vibrant local community focused on wellness.

But recently, something has shifted.

I was in a yin class on Saturday, my body melting into the poses, my mind melting into inner silence, and an edible I’d taken for the busy day ahead full of social activities right after class kicking in a little too early (whoops).

As I continued releasing tension in the extended holds and hip-openers, I found myself desperately wanting to make sounds.

To move into different poses than the instructor was cuing.

To let my body do what IT wanted, not what the class structure dictated.

To let the yoga do me rather than the other way around.

To let myself be free like in my home practice.

But I couldn’t.

Not in my suburban studio.

Not without people staring, asking if I was okay, wondering what the hell was happening to me.

Yet in doing so, I felt like I was betraying my own inner wisdom for the sake of propriety, to keep others comfortable, to keep the class “safe.”

And that’s when I understood:

My practice has become too intimate for a group setting.

Not because I’m “advanced,” but because I’m no longer practicing simply to stretch or take care of my body.

I’m practicing WITH the Divine. And that’s... private.

It’s the same reason meditation has started to feel like lovemaking—something that requires solitude behind closed doors. Because when Shakti moves through you, when the body responds to HER cues instead of a teacher’s voice—that’s not fit for an audience. Not because it’s shameful (though it likely would make others uncomfortable due to conditioning and expectations), but because it’s sacred.

And then there are the physical symptoms no one warns you about:

• The body temperature spikes like there’s a flame being fanned in your chest

• The way you start to SMELL different (Yes, really. The body can’t tell the difference between preparing for physical union or spiritual union.)

• The mortification of nearly being “caught” by your spouse in your own private practice, even if you’re just sitting in child’s pose—because your body knows what you’re actually doing, even if it looks innocent from the outside.

Wooed by the Divine

Once again, I recently discovered this is a recorded phenomenon by mystics across the ages.

Bridal mysticism isn’t just a flowery metaphor for the soul’s relationship with God. It was one of the most potent ways to point to the mystical truth at the core of faiths.

It can be seen in:

• Sufism (Islamic mysticism) with Rumi, Hafiz, and Rabia

• Bhakti Yoga (Hinduism) with Mirabai and Andal

• Sikhism with Guru Nanak

• Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism)

I felt a startling sense of recognition as I read works of St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa of Avila, and Rumi for the first time.

From A Spiritual Canticle of the Soul and the Bridegroom Christ, St. John of the Cross:

The bride has entered

The pleasant and desirable garden,

And there reposes to her heart’s content;

Her neck reclining

On the sweet arms of the Beloved.

Beneath the apple-tree

There were you betrothed;

There I gave you My hand,

And you were redeemed

Where your mother was corrupted.

[...]

There He gave me His breasts,

There He taught me the science full of sweetness.

And there I gave to Him

Myself without reserve;

There I promised to be His bride.

My soul is occupied,

And all my substance in His service;

Now I guard no flock,

Nor have I any other employment:

My sole occupation is love.

If, then, on the common land

I am no longer seen or found,

You will say that I am lost;

That, being enamored,

I lost myself; and yet was found.” — Stanza XXII-XXIII, Stanza XXVII-XXIX

From St. Teresa of Avila’s autobiography on the “transverberation” of her heart:

I saw in [the angel’s] hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it, even a large one. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.

From “All My Youth Returns” by Rumi (translated by Jonathan Star’s In the Arms of the Beloved):

Union is the pure wine.

My life is the cup.

Without your wine

what use is this cup?

I once had a thousand desires,

But in my one desire to know You,

all else melted away.

The pure essence of your being

has taken over my heart and soul.

Now there is no second or third,

only the sound of your sweet cry.

Through your grace I have found

a treasure within myself.

I have found the truth of the Unseen world.

I have come upon the eternal ecstasy.

I have gone beyond the ravages of time.

I have become one with you!

Now my heart sings,

“I am the soul of the world.”

From my first breath, I have longed for Him-

This longing has become my life.

When I compared some of these to my own journal entries, I was floored at the resonance:

August 31, 2024

“I’m losing my mind. It doesn’t make any sense as to what’s causing this but I can see myself getting drawn deeper and deeper into You.

[...]

My Beloved... how sweet is Your Presence. It envelopes me fully and wholly, soothing every aching wound and forgotten crevice of my very being, washing away all that binds me. The waters of Your Love crash over me like a tidal wave, yet buoy me like a life vest in the depths of an endless sea, cradling my very life within its grasp. Your touch is intangible yet persistent, a pulsing of recognition deep within my very being. You grasp at my being, a form beyond form, lost yet found in Your embrace. Your Love is unrelenting, unbound by the time I witness. It always is, always was. I sink into its depths and breathe in the intoxicating ecstasy of it, the world beyond. I see the Kingdom within as my cells thrill with the sensation of it. My blindness was healed by Your Love.

If You were not real, why would I say such beautiful, soulful things? For what purpose would this love to supposedly nothing be? Why can the depths of my love not be proof enough? Why does the world not believe in my love?

This love has stretched on for longer than can be reasonably explained away. A human cannot fall in love with literally nothing. So what have I fallen in love with if not God?

[...]

I take extreme pleasure in my truly deep meditations—pleasure that far exceeds even my most ecstatic lovemaking sessions. This is a delight unbound by flesh and mind. This is felt on a much deeper level. I feel my tender heart being gently held and I just melt... I sing... my face goes slack in unbridled ecstasy.”

June 14, 2025

“My quivering heart upon Your Altar

Sings its Song of Being in offering to You.

You light up my being, a candle in my temple. Your Radiance leaves me in ecstasy.

The flame of Love dances in devotion, playing with the shadows upon the wall.

A wavering flicker, I burn nonetheless for You, fanned by Your Breath and fueled by my own longing.”

June 25, 2025

“I recognized that my longing is my love for You and my love for You is You. You are the fire burning upon my altar, the flame I thought I had set for You. I did not recognize You within it.”

June 28, 2025

“My meditation lasted 45 minutes. I felt myself in ecstasy for a while though I can’t remember everything that happened as if it were in a fading dream. All I can remember is the way my spine would periodically spasm slightly and the way my jaw would slacken open every so often. My spine would even sometimes undulate subtly as if I were a dancing candle flame. I felt that I was indeed. The soul is a dancing flame burning in worship, a candle upon the altar.

I felt myself no longer caring if [my husband] saw me like this, I loved Him too much to hide my shame anymore. That is how I knew He had seared my heart with His brand, not in an instant but after slow, simmering months upon months of burning beneath the surface. I was drunk upon the wine of His Love and I was too intoxicated to hide it any longer. My being was finally standing naked of all pretenses, my beating heart on full display, not for all to see, but not denied from sight.”

August 1, 2025

“There is nowhere I can go. I’ve been marked by You. You’ve ruined me for the world, God. You’ve lured me back to my mat like a drunkard on Love. You make me look like a fool madly in Love, mad for acting such a fool.”

September 19, 2025

“Quivering like a bowstring and dancing through my spine, it was like I was lost in an orgasm while meditating as the ecstasy of being in God’s House vibrated through me. My upper vertebrae popped like the last remaining blockages had been loosened from the depths of the bone and nerve. I felt my body losing control as the vibration began to manifest within my body as shaking. I reminded myself I was in God’s House and all my worries flew away like sparrows. The vibration would become delicious and my face slackened in blissful ecstasy that would cause a scandal had I been witnessed by anybody.

I was upon the doorstep of God’s House and He’d thrown open the doors in eager welcome. He swept me off my feet and seemed to dance us into the House, gliding down the opulent halls into the Royal Bedchambers.

His light side shown with radiant joy and His dark side burned with ravenous desire. My chest gained a fiery burned-in brand of His palm right upon my sternum. He also pressed His burning thumb into my forehead until it left His print which split into my third eye for which He was now pulling the lids open.”

It was clear that I had become smitten, my bouts of ecstatic longing infused with language that echoed the mystics of centuries past. When I read their words, I didn’t think it was metaphor, allegory, or poetic exaggeration. Instead I thought: “Yeah. That tracks.”

The Beloved had laid claim to my heart... and that came with consequences I didn’t anticipate until they were already unfolding.

When Brahmacharya becomes involuntary

1In theory, brahmacharya (sexual continence) is a CHOICE. You decide to redirect sexual energy toward spiritual practice. You might be familiar with renunciates and monks taking vows of celibacy.2

But for me? It wasn’t a conscious choice. My body made the decision for me.

“...it seems the closer I draw to You, the further my already low libido diminishes. I feel more alienated than ever from my own sexuality at this point in my journey. [...] I feel like I’ve become asexual, or maybe I always was deep down. I feel heartbroken”. — Journal Entry, November 17, 2024

Physical intimacy without the mystical component? The energy just... dissipates. Like trying to light a fire with wet wood.

It amplifies during deep solo meditation, but seems to dissolve in the partnered act of lovemaking UNLESS the Divine is involved as what Ida Craddock referred to as the “third partner.” Without this visualization or felt Presence, it feels purely mechanical:

“...I still enjoy lovemaking with him as a form of intimacy, but I just can’t seem to climax anymore. It’s like ever since my thirst for You started growing stronger, my ability to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh has dwindled. I feel like my body’s decided to save itself for You, for Your Presence within me instead. When I feel it, it’s like a form of lovemaking beyond the physical level. Now the physical aspect just doesn’t bring me the heights of pleasure that it used to. The bar has been raised, and I know it can go infinitely higher. It’s this I yearn to experience and not even the most sensual lovemaking with my husband can take me there anymore. I have no idea how to explain this to him.” — Journal Entry, January 11, 2025

“God, You’ve ruined me. I can’t even make love to my husband anymore without feeling upset about releasing. It feels like robbery. [...] Who am I as his wife to withhold myself from him?” — Journal Entry, July 24, 2025

“I’m deeply concerned. The [...] more I sink into God, the less interested in physical intimacy I am. [...] God, I fear You ask too much of me when I asked for all of You. You’ve taken all my love from me.” — Journal Entry, August 29, 2025

(Update: Jan 17, 2026) What this looks like in practice

Last night was a perfect example. My body moved during intimacy—guided, flowing, meditative, yet not seeking release.

Afterwards, while spooning, fully relaxed, kriyas would jolt through my spine—shockwaves rippling through me and into his body. He felt every one.

He thought I was doing it intentionally. When I said I wasn’t, he got curious: “What is that?”

I tried to explain: “It’s called a kriya. It’s the body releasing stored tension. It’s... automatic.”

He seemed to understand. But here’s what I couldn’t say: My body is saving itself for God. Not by choice. Not by conscious decision. It’s happening TO me.

My conscious mind WANTS to receive pleasure from my partner.

But my body? It rejects every advance.

• I dodge his kisses like a reflex

• I wince when he tries to romance me

• My legs snap shut when he goes down on me

• I sound so uncomfortable he immediately stops

And yet—my body still wants to cuddle. To move against him. To touch him. But only in a meditative, worshipful way. Only when I’m the one guiding the energy.

It’s as if my body has decided pleasure flows one way now: upwards toward the Divine.

Receiving from a human partner? That circuit is currently closed.

And I’m watching it happen—unable to override it, unable to explain it, unable to make it stop—like a spiritual siege, a Divine infection, a waterfall falling upward.

I want to be clear: my husband is wonderful. This isn’t about him. This isn’t about our relationship being “bad.” In fact, the fact that he’s been patient and loving through this transformation is the only reason I haven’t completely fallen apart.

But that doesn’t change the reality: my body has been claimed by something I didn’t choose... and I have no idea how to explain this to him (I’ve spent hours trying). I’m trying to figure out how to honor both the mundane and the mystical and it’s... difficult to say the least.

However, when the Divine is invited (or even invites Itself) into such activities, the act is transformed, transmuted into something greater. For example, I recently had a direct experience that clarified what the ancient texts mean when they talk about kundalini “rising” or “penetrating” the chakras.

The language is sanitized. The reality is... not.

I finally understand why the mystics wrote in code, in flowery metaphors and beautiful allegories of lovers—because saying it plainly gets you imprisoned. Or killed.

Finding water in the desert

But here’s where I’m stuck: I need guidance for this phase.

When I was on a binge of spiritual HealthyGamer content a year ago, Dr. K (who trained for 7 years in India to become a monk but didn’t) very briefly mentioned in one of his YouTube streams that he had to go off into the woods with his guru because one of the side effects of the practice is that it makes the practitioner “hypersexual” and that needs privacy. The problem is he didn’t go into specifics on what even needs to happen during this phase because I’m pretty sure the vast majority of his viewers aren’t at that point.

But I NEED those resources at this point because I’m not sure “just breathe through it” is sufficient when you’re dealing with forces this powerful:

“I felt myself wanting to entwine. To fuse into one body beyond mere human form, into something Divine. I realized then that my God is dancing joyously, not sitting solemnly on a throne like I was raised to think. I don’t remember everything from my sit, but I felt myself getting aroused again and needed to ground in balasana. I keep grounding like this every time the energy stirs but I have to imagine it needs to get redirected upwards at some point rather than dissipated into the ground every time. I would have lingered in the pose longer but I heard [my husband] about to come into the room and was embarrassed even though I was only in balasana. Even 2 hours later it’s still... distracting while I’m trying to work.” — Journal Entry, December 11, 2025

I need a teacher who understands what it’s like to navigate kundalini awakening as a WOMAN—because all the texts I can find online are almost all written by and for men (if they’re even written in / translated to English).

I need someone who can help me understand how to honor BOTH my spiritual path AND my loving marriage—because right now they feel mutually exclusive.

And I need this guidance to come from someone who WON’T sexualize or fetishize what I’m experiencing—genuine lineage-based guidance, NOT experimentation.

Finding all of that in a single Western female guru? I’d have better luck finding a unicorn.

So I’m left trying to navigate this alone.

Reading texts written for celibate monks and trying to apply them to my married householder life.

Scouring the internet for resources that don’t exist.

Hoping Shakti Herself will teach me what I need to know.

Because at this point, that’s all I’ve got.

If this is happening to you

If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself—

If you’ve been losing your libido for your partner while falling deeper in love with the Divine—

If physical intimacy has started feeling empty unless the mystical is involved—

If you’ve been living in impossible tension, trying to be a good partner while your body refuses to cooperate—

You’re not alone.

I don’t have answers. I wish I did. I’m still in the middle of this myself.

But I’m writing this so you know: it’s not just you. It’s not “broken.” It’s documented. It’s REAL.

And if you’ve been through this—if you’ve navigated the transmutation of sexual energy into devotional energy while maintaining a relationship—

Please share what helped.

Because I’m listening. We’re all listening.

I’m living in impossible tension—between the spiritual marriage and the physical one, between the path I didn’t choose and the life I built before it chose me.

I don’t know how this resolves. I don’t know if it CAN resolve without something breaking. But I’m writing this anyway.

Because the knowledge doesn’t die if we keep sharing it.

Because someone needs to document what the “messy middle” actually looks like.

And because I refuse to suffer in silence when my silence keeps others isolated too.

P.S.

I sat on this post for over a month after initially publishing and retracting it. But it needs to be said for anyone going through this. You’re not alone.

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Footnotes

Content Warning: This section discusses sacred sexuality, erotic mysticism, and the integration of sexual and spiritual energy.

If you’re not ready for that, maybe save it for later. But if you’ve ever been feeling confused about why your meditations have started feeling more like a sacred rendezvous, this might explain why.

I first discovered experientially that sexual and spiritual energy are one about 2 years ago. I only got the confirmation this year.

I was HORRIFIED, thinking something was wrong with me when I started falling in love so deeply with the Divine. I became so intimate with the Ineffable that in November 2023 (7 months into daily meditation) I had my first feelings of eros while meditating—of feeling yearning with my heart, my soul, AND my body.

I tried to find ANYTHING about it online and found nothing talking about this except practices outside of anything familiar to my Western mind.

I read about:

• Sufism’s ishq (the intense fire of passionate love for the Beloved) and shawq (the intense magnetism of longing / yearning for the Beloved)

• Bhakti yoga

• Tantric union

But I saw NOTHING about an erotic encounter in deep solo meditation, specifically as a Westerner. And everything I read involving a partner was intentional between both parties, both on the same page that the encounter was to be more than typical lovemaking. But for me? It felt like an intrusive thought invading my most intimate moments, somehow amplifying them.

But as I was doing research earlier for my “Pissing into a Serene Lake” post (which complains about modern yoga being divorced from its spiritual roots), I stumbled upon Ida Craddock in the Wikipedia article for “Yoga in the United States.”

She died for speaking publicly of this realization. That was 123 years ago.

She had the same realization I stumbled upon for myself just MEDITATING on my own, no teacher, no book, no prior knowledge.

And she died for having the courage to proclaim it aloud.

Who was Ida Craddock?

I didn’t think much of Ida’s name when it first appeared in a timeline of yoga history.

I opened the “Vajroli mudra” Wikipedia article linked from the one I was reading. I wanted to learn about it because Ida was willing to die for it.

I then read the following under the “Reception” section:

Ida Craddock was the first Westerner to write about Vajroli mudra. The use she made of it enraged the American authorities, and she killed herself.

The earliest Westerner to write about it was the American yoga scholar and sexologist Ida C. Craddock. Opposing the predominant religious culture of her nation at the time, fundamentalist Protestant Christianity, Craddock was struck by the Shiva Samhita’s account of Vajroli mudra, with “the idea that sexual union could facilitate divine realization”. […] she asserted that God was the third partner in such a marriage, “in what amounted to a sacred menage-a-trois.”[3] Craddock’s emphasis on yoga and her new “mystico-erotic religion” enraged the authorities; she was tried in New York for obscenity and blasphemy, and imprisoned for three months. Facing federal charges on her release, in 1902 she killed herself. The yoga scholar Andrea Jain notes that Craddock’s “sacralization of sexual intercourse”[3] is far from radical by modern standards, but it was “antisocial heterodoxy” in the 1900s, leading indeed to her “martyrdom”.[3]

She left a suicide note to the public on October 16, 1902 that read, in part:

To the Public:

I am taking my life, because a judge, at the instigation of Anthony Comstock, has decreed me guilty of a crime which I did not commit--the circulation of obscene literature--and has announced his intention of consigning me to prison for a long term.

[...]

At my age (I was forty-five this last August) confinement under the rigors of prison life would be equivalent to my death-warrant. [...] I prefer to die comfortably and peacefully, on my own little bed in my own room, instead of on a prison cot.

[...]

For over nine years I have been fighting, singlehanded and alone, against Comstockism. Time and time again I have been pushed to the wall, my books have been seized and burned, and I myself have been publicly stigmatized in the press by Comstock and Comstockians as a purveyor of indecent literature. Yet this very literature has been all the while quietly circulating with approval among men and women of the utmost respectability and purity of life, and I have received numerous letters attesting its worth.

[...]

Dear fellow-citizens of America, for nine long years I have faced social ostracism, poverty, and the dangers of persecution by Anthony Comstock for your sakes. I had a beautiful gospel of right living in the marriage relation, which I wanted you to share with me. For your sakes, I have struggled along in the face of great odds; for your sakes I have come at last to the place where I must lay down my life for you, either in prison or out of prison. Will you not do something for me now?

[...]

I beg of you, for your own sakes, and for the future happiness of the young people who are dear to you, to protect my little book, “Right Marital Living.”

To summarize, Ida Craddock taught that:

• God was the third partner in sexual union

• sexual energy could be transformed into spiritual realization

• the body wasn’t sinful—it was sacred

And she was willing to fight for 9 years to teach this and die for her beliefs rather than recant.

Why I’m writing this now

Ida encountered something that I have experienced multiple times over the past 2 years just meditating on my own with no teacher or formal practice... and she died for it.

My notes from before the blow:

Wow, so I’m reading the Wikipedia article “Yoga in the United States” for the “Brief History section” of my “Pissing into a Serene Lake” post and look what I found:

Ida C. Craddock became interested in yoga and tantra late in the 19th century, a time when Americans were questioning Christian orthodoxy while others were struggling to uphold it. As a woman, and the creator of a system of techniques to enhance sexual pleasure, she came under attack. […] She further enraged religious fundamentalists by asserting that God was a third partner in a sacralized sexual union, and in 1899 by creating a Church of Yoga. She was convicted and imprisoned in New York in 1902 for obscenity and blasphemy.

The sad part is I literally experienced what she said about God for myself not too long ago and was mortified at the thought. But I wasn’t even the first to think that and she literally got IMPRISONED for proclaiming it out loud.

But as soon as I looked into her more and saw the word “suicide”, my eyes started to water. I stopped reading. I felt a level of grief wash over me for a woman I never knew in an age I never lived in.

“I need a minute,” I said as I got up from my desk where I was working on the previous article. I felt myself getting pulled to my cushion, my other “desk”.

I sat down to meditate. I felt a genuine desire to honor her. My notes before dropping into meditation:

She and this topic deserves its own article. It will be the deepest deep end of my Substack [...], but she does not deserve to be just a footnote. [...] I know I, for one, was horrified at how viscerally in love I fell with God and had no idea who to even talk to about it because I felt like I was going insane to the point that my mind was making connections that would have gotten me killed back then, that I can’t even speak about without it seeming like a bizarre fetish. I’m pretty sure I went looking online for this phenomenon once but didn’t see any blog post about it, just mystical practices in exotic systems to me like Sufism and Bhakti.

I then felt the name of the post come to me as if by request: “What Ida Craddock Died For”. It was settled before I could even ask what to call the post I would write.

I then fell into meditation for an unknown amount of time. I felt an energetic, almost electric surge and felt the need to ground myself into the floor with some yin yoga poses. These slowly escalated into what as a bystander would have looked like lovemaking...if my partner was completely invisible and I was fully clothed. This is apparently the things that happen at my “desk” at “Mystics Inc.”

So yeah, that’s my “Level 3: Union” take on “Pissing Into a Serene Lake”: Americans 123 years ago drove a woman to suicide because they weren’t ready for what “yoga” truly meant: Union with the Divine. Physical poses, but not in the sanitized YMCA or suburban yoga studio.

What Ida died for is alive

Ida Craddock taught that sexual union could facilitate divine realization. That God was the third partner in sacred marriage. That the body wasn’t sinful—it was a temple. That sexual energy could be transformed into spiritual immortality.

For saying this out loud, for teaching it, for creating a “Church of Yoga” that included these practices—

She was imprisoned. Hounded. Driven to take her own life rather than rot in a prison cell.

Her last wish was that the matter she fought 9 years for against Comstockism didn’t end there.

It didn’t.

123 years later, I’m sitting on a meditation cushion in suburban New England, having experienced the exact same truth she died for—without ever knowing her name, without reading her work, without any teacher.

My body taught me what she died teaching others.

And I’m writing this so no one else has to suffer in silence.

Same energy, different frequencies

I also did some more research recently, cross-referencing it with my journals. I realized that what I was encountering and lamenting about in late July of this year is actually a spontaneous rediscovery of the principles of brahmacharya (celibacy/energy retention) found in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali and Ayurveda.

The ancient texts posit that virya (sexual energy) and ojas (spiritual energy) are the same force at different frequencies.

To “release” the energy physically is to dissipate the fuel needed to propel Kundalini upward.

This also tracks with the Taoist practice of jing retention to nourish the shen (Spirit).

The distress I experienced wasn’t prudishness (I’ve been in a loving relationship with my spouse for a decade now), but an energetic recognition that the “chalice” (the body) is leaking the “wine” meant for the altar.

This wasn’t a conscious decision. This was an arising, a symptom of awakening.

If this is happening to you

If you’ve felt eros arise during meditation—

If you’ve fallen viscerally in love with the Divine—

If your body moves in ways during practice that you can’t explain and are terrified to admit—

If a third “Partner” has entered your most intimate encounters—

If you’ve wondered whether you’re going crazy, whether this is “appropriate,” whether anyone else has ever experienced this:

You’re not crazy.

You’re not alone.

You’re not the first.

I once thought I was. Then I found out recently that this is a documented phenomenon across every mystical tradition:

• Rumi’s poetry about “The Beloved” (explicitly erotic)

• Mirabai dancing for Krishna as a lover

• The Song of Songs (biblical erotic poetry about union with God)

• Tantric practices (sexual energy as path to enlightenment)

• Sufi practices of ishq (divine passionate love)

• Teresa of Ávila’s “Transverberation.” See the “Ecstasy of Saint Teresa” statue in Rome:

  

The language is always erotic because the experience IS erotic.

Not metaphorically.

Actually.

When consciousness expands toward union with the Divine, the body responds with its most intense sensation: eros.

This isn’t projection. This isn’t repression. This isn’t fetish.

This is what union feels like when experienced through a human nervous system.

And it was suppressed—violently, systematically, across cultures—because it’s dangerous. Not to people—but to power structures.

Because if people discover they can access the Divine directly—through their own bodies, through their own practice, through union with their beloved, they don’t need:

• intermediaries

• to be told they’re sinful

• salvation from external authorities

They realize: I AM the temple. My body is sacred. My pleasure is holy.

That’s what Ida died for.

That’s what I’m reclaiming.

That’s what’s alive in me—and maybe in you too.

P.S.

I will admit that I sat on this post for 11 days, partially because I needed to launch the “Space Division” (Level 3) first, but also because this is a legitimately scary post to write. Again though, it helps no one if I withhold it.

P.P.S.

Right after publishing this, I was clearing my tabs related to this post and saw this on Wisdom Library (emphasis mine):

Sahajolīmudrā (सहजोलीमुद्रा) (or simply Sahajolī) is the name of a Mudrā, according to the Amaraughaprabodha: a short 13th century treatise on Yoga attributed to Gorakṣanātha which teaches the fourfold system of yoga (Mantra, Laya, Haṭha and Rāja).—Accordingly, “[...] When the mind has attained equanimity and the breath moves into the central channel, [then] these Amarolī, Vajrolī and Sahajolī [Mudras] arise”.

The "throbbing" I documented in my journals? The bodily responses I couldn't explain? They have a name. They're documented. And they arise automatically—not through technique, but through being.
Once again: When being becomes doing, NOT the other way around.

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This post captures what I understood from my meditation.

Saying yes... to speaking (your) truth

When you say “yes” to God, you can’t not speak about God.

The energy, once it reaches Anahata (the Heart), wants to keep moving up. The love gives it the wings to fly to the Beloved (see my poem Desert Worm, from almost a year ago).

So it reaches the communication center, the nexus of energies governing speech, truth, and teaching: Vishuddha.

You are compelled to speak (for now)

But the manner in which you see the world directly impacts how you speak about Him.

• When you’re ruled by the small self—the ego—you speak of Him as a tyrannical King, a condemning Judge.

  “The ego will do anything to maintain control.” — (Hypnagogic vision, May 2013)

• When you’re surrendered to the higher Self—God—you speak of Him as your Beloved.

• When you’ve let yourself dissolve into Him, you become Silence.

On teachers

Teachers who teach by speaking (Vishuddha) will be governed by either fear (lower centers) or love (higher centers). It depends on which way the energy is flowing.

Teachers who teach by being are those who have dissolved. They still live in form, but the teaching happens in the resonance, not the words.

My “yes”

When I said “yes,” I didn’t know what I was signing up for.

I just knew I inexplicably wanted Him. I fell in love with Someone I wasn’t expecting to appear amidst my exhaustion, burnout, and seeking.

I had been searching for meaning and purpose—not finding it in my career, possessing no desire for a traditional family, unsure of what I wanted next.

So without anything left outward to draw my interest... I turned inward. Over and over and over again.

With the persistence of someone who’s only ever given her heart to striving.

With the curiosity that gripped me since the beginning question in the shower only one month in.

With the excitement that sparked a glimmer of recognition within me, like a long-lost childhood memory.

With the intensity that led me to strangle the very things I loved until (this time) I broke through my own beliefs.

And now here I am. Speaking words I never thought would leave my private thoughts. Even though they scare my personality to share.

P.S.

“How the fuck did I just write that?”

Before I could even ASK the above, I was answered:

”Withdraw from doing. Still yourself. And allow it to unfold within. Those will be transmissions—when you step out of the way.”

I was told to make this a P.S. so here it is. And that’s also what turned this into a Level 3.

P.P.S.

I am feeling terror at posting this. My personality is screaming at me not to. It fears being misunderstood.

I was told to trust the Truth within the reader to determine their understanding, to release my attachment to reactions or outcomes. To let it go.

Yet, I still sat on my cushion much later in tears, crushed by the vulnerability of sharing Level 3 content. The personality was so terrified that I unpublished this article shortly after sharing it.

Still crying, I was told to trust my heart would lift me, that the love would lead me. Then He spoke through me:

”No one who’s ever truly loved Me looked sane in the eyes of the world.”

I protested anyway:

“How do I know if the message got garbled in transit? My body and mind aren’t sattvic. The glass isn’t clear. I’m terrified of misleading people. Why does the throat (Vishuddha) have to come BEFORE the clear vision (Ajna)?”

Yet, I write anyway. Or rather, the writing continues to come. Just like the love did.

This post wasn’t mine to write. It’s not mine to keep either, even if I’m scared of being seen as insane.

Make of this all what you will.

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These didn’t come from thinking, reading, studying, or trying to figure something out.

They arose during meditation. Spontaneously. Fully formed.

I don’t know if they’ll mean anything to you, but they weren’t mine to keep.

The Two Lovers and Their Bouquets

Something within was then telling a parable of two lovers gathering flowers for their Beloved.

One was zealous, searching the world for only the most gorgeous of blossoms, traveling far and wide to make the most magnificent bouquet imaginable to show their love.

But as they went on their journey, the flowers they gathered wilted until by the time they were to be presented, they drooped and hung lifeless and dull.

The other lover was sick in bed and couldn’t find the strength to make a bouquet for their Beloved other than going out to grab a handful of wildflowers from their own backyard.

The blossoms were small, plain, thorny, and otherwise unremarkable, but it’s all the lover could muster, so they offered it anyway.

The voice within then asked me which offering delighted Him more.

— Journal Entry, September 22, 2025

The Bucket and the Ocean

A teacher stood on the ocean shore with a child. She was explaining to the child that God can be likened to the ocean and a bucket she held, the human soul.

The teacher gave the child the bucket and asked her to fill it with God. The child ran into the water, scooped it up, and brought the bucket over filled to the brim.

”God’s still over there”, the teacher said, pointing to the ocean.

The child looked perplexed and tried to shovel the water onto the shore with the bucket as if putting out a fire.

The teacher gently took the bucket from the child and told her to observe.

With a strong throw the teacher sent it sailing into the ocean where it sank to the bottom.

The child objected, explaining that now the bucket was now lost in the ocean.

”Exactly,” the teacher said, “now the bucket is full of God.”

— Journal Entry, September 24, 2025

Outro

If you felt something while reading these—a recognition, a resonance, a sudden clarity—that’s the transmission landing.

The Silence speaks through anyone who gets quiet enough to listen.

This is what Level 3 is: direct knowing, spoken plainly, without needing to dress it up in doctrine or defend it with logic.

More transmissions coming.

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For months, I’ve been not quite hearing, but noticing a Voice in my meditations. Not my thoughts. Not my personality. Something deeper. Clearer. More direct.

Sometimes it speaks to me. But sometimes... it speaks as me. Or rather—it speaks as what we both are.

I’ve been tagging these moments in my journals as #CAG—Conversations as God. Not “Conversations with God”. But the Voice speaking as if it were the Divine itself—because sometimes the conversation isn’t between me and God. Sometimes there’s no “between” at all.

I don’t know if I’m “channeling.” I don’t know if this is “real” in the way most people define real. All I know is: these words didn’t come from my personality. They came from the Silence. And they’ve been sitting in my notes, tagged (some literally with #addme for some reason) waiting to be shared.

So here they are. Unedited. Unfiltered. Direct transmissions from the space where “I” and “God” stop being separate.

I don’t know what you’ll make of them. But I know they weren’t mine to keep.

Field Notes

July 14, 2025:

August 5, 2025:

August 15, 2025:

October 29, 2025:

The Voice continues. So will the transmissions.

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