From Repression to Liberation: My Journey to Sacred Sexuality

I once sat at a bus stop in Alaska, waiting for lightning to strike me dead.

This wasn't a metaphor. At 23 years old, having just experienced my first sexual encounter outside of marriage, I genuinely believed divine punishment was coming for me. After a decade immersed in religious doctrine that taught me sexuality was sinful unless contained within strict boundaries, I had committed what I'd been taught was an unforgivable transgression.

So I waited. For judgment. For punishment. For anything.

But the lightning never came.

That ordinary moment became extraordinary—the crack that would eventually shatter my entire understanding of spirituality, pleasure, and what it means to be divinely embodied.

After ten years in a conservative religious community where sexuality outside marriage was considered sinful, I'd broken the ultimate rule. The shame coursed through my veins like poison. So I sat, and I waited for judgment.

But the lightning never came.

People walked by. Cars passed. The world continued turning.

In that mundane moment at the bus stop, my entire worldview cracked open like an egg. If the universe hadn't stopped to punish me for this "terrible sin," what other beliefs were keeping me caged?

The Seeds of Disconnect

My relationship with my body and sexuality wasn't born in that Alaskan summer. Its roots stretched back to childhood – a stepdad who inappropriately touched me when my mother was away, leaving me feeling deeply unprotected from masculine energy. A mother who cycled through five different stepdads, carrying her own unhealed sexual trauma.

By twelve, seeking something spiritual but finding no guidance at home, I walked into a conservative church of my own accord. For the next decade, I devoted myself to religious dogma that taught me sexuality was only permissible within strict boundaries.

Meanwhile, my natural erotic energy and curiosity grew stronger. The conflict between my awakening desires and religious programming created a war inside me. I watched as young couples in my church were publicly shamed for sexual "transgressions," forced to sit in the back row as penance. Terror of similar humiliation kept me obedient – until Alaska.

The Pendulum Swing

Being an extremist by nature, when my religious paradigm shattered, I swung to the opposite pole. I dove headfirst into experiences that had been forbidden. But without knowing how to work with my sexual energy, I moved from repression to disconnection.

During this phase, I would hover above my body during intimate encounters – physically present but energetically gone. I'd disconnect after the first few minutes, watching my body from above like a disembodied observer. This pattern continued through my first marriage, which lasted only three years.

I carried shadow desires I was afraid to acknowledge. And when that marriage collapsed in pain and betrayal, I moved into revenge sexuality – taking multiple lovers simultaneously, wanting to experience life without any rules whatsoever.

The Burning Man Awakening

The universe guided me to where I needed to be – a community of fellow rebels at Burning Man. There, I found a radical cocoon of acceptance where exploration wasn't just permitted but celebrated. Nothing was "weird" or "wrong" about my curiosities.

I remember the freedom of joining a naked parade with hundreds of others, of communal showers, of dropping my performative self to discover who I really was beneath years of conditioning. Finally, I could breathe.

Yet, even with this newfound freedom, something remained frozen inside me. Though outwardly liberated, wearing revealing clothes and comfortable in my skin, I still couldn't feel deeply. Layers of trauma had created a frozen lake within me that physical liberation alone couldn't thaw.

The Medicine Woman's Healing

It was the plant medicine ayahuasca who became my greatest teacher. Journey after journey, she took me back to childhood wounds, to religious shaming, to the moments my sexuality had fragmented. She helped me hold my inner child and grieve what had happened.

"I'm so sorry you were alone," I would tell that little girl inside me.

Slowly, like ice breaking in spring, my heart began to resurrect. My capacity to feel returned – not just sexual feelings, but all emotions. I found myself spontaneously crying at sunsets, overcome with gratitude for simple pleasures, and experiencing waves of emotion that had been locked away for decades.

The healing within reflected outward, and I began attracting healthier partners. As my inner landscape transformed, so did my choice in lovers. I experienced my first truly tantric sexual experiences and realized I could never return to disconnected sexuality again. I had found my path as a tantric, shamanic sexual practitioner.

Self-Marriage and Erotic Embodiment

A pivotal moment came when I married myself – a sacred ritual with a priestess ring symbolizing my vow to continue falling in love with myself. I realized the soulmate I had been searching for was my own body, which had been waiting patiently for me to return to it.

I became my own greatest lover. I took myself on dates, bought myself flowers, and created sensual rituals of self-pleasure and reverence. I learned that every act of pleasure is a prayer – that when we experience true delight, the Divine Mother experiences it through us.

I began practicing what I now call "pleasure activism" – intentionally cultivating sensual experiences not just for enjoyment but as a spiritual practice. Whether sitting in the first rays of spring sunshine, receiving a massage, or taking a candlelit bath, I discovered that elevated emotions create ripe soil for manifestation.

The Erotic Mystic Emerges

Today, I identify as an erotic mystic – someone who understands that Eros (the life force of desire) is essential to spiritual awakening. I've learned that we don't need to choose between spiritual devotion and sensual embodiment. They belong together.

True mysticism doesn't ask us to transcend our bodies but to inhabit them fully. Erotic energy becomes a force for transformation, creativity, and magic when we learn to channel it consciously rather than repress or mindlessly express it.

My journey from religious repression through promiscuity to sacred sexuality taught me that our erotic nature is a gift. When we heal the split between spirituality and sexuality, we become whole, vibrant beings capable of experiencing the divine through our senses.

The greatest revelation? That none of us need permission to be fully alive, fully sensual, fully present. The divine doesn't want us small and ashamed – it wants us expanded, ecstatic, and embodied.

This is the path of the erotic mystic. This is the path of coming home to yourself.

Katerina Satori 

p.s. I recommend my most recent online program, RED MAGIC, which was delivered as a 3-day ritual retreat to anyone who wants to go deeper.