THE INITIATION OF DIVINE UNION WITH THE GODDESS ISIS

An excerpt from the soon to be released multi-author book 'Secrets of the Goddess' being published in 2024. Certain names have been changed to protect privacy.

Isis had captured my pubescent attention from a very young age. Her aura magnetized me to books and tomes I would become engrossed in for weeks and months. Her perfume of mystery, gesturing to an age where magic was taken seriously, had me sniffing for more clues as to her secrets.

I knew consciously working with Isis this past year was going to upend my life in unfathomable ways, stripping me of the facades that could no longer come with me into this next chapter, but I had no idea how cutting her asks would be.

She first began revealing herself to me when I twice ventured to her temple in Egypt. The Isis Temple on Philae has a gentle air of peace, with clouds of magenta flowers billowing across the stone floors as you make your way through her intimate temple complex.

The puzzle she began teasing me with over the years began to make sense, as I had begun vulnerably sharing with those close to me the desire for sacred partnership and union.

From love rituals over New Years to having a crowd of men at my birthday publicly honour and invite a King into my life, there was a feeling of momentum building in my life and this kismet connection with the Egyptian High Priestess of magic, mystery, and ancient secrets of union.

She began to invite me to embody her. This also activated the initiation with her where it would be in one of our Worshipper ritual erotic theatre experiences I was co-producing, where I embodied and became Isis in a ritual resurrecting her sacred consort Osiris.

Characteristics and traits of the Goddess Isis Archetype as the High Priestess

The granddaughter of Ra, mother of the Hawk-Headed Sun God Horus, and an ever loyal and devoted wife to God of the Underworld, Osiris, the Goddess Isis is considered one of the world’s most celebrated and revered goddesses. Reigning in the domains of magic, love, and sexual mysteries, she’s known to have inspired the spiritual journey of Mary Magdalene, where she was inducted in the rites and mysteries of Isis. It was in Mary’s initiations with Isis where she learnt the sacred sexual rites of Hieros Gamos, the act of merging the Ka bodies during sexual union, and shared this with Yeshua.

Isis was also known as a powerful sorceress endowed with incredible healing abilities and right use of magical powers. She is the High Priestess but also the sacred mother, divine consort and compassionate ruler Queen.

Whereas many goddesses have been recycled over the ages, absorbed into new representations with cute facelifts and name changes, Isis was one of the few goddesses whose cult held longevity in the hearts of cultures to come, and found a particular following in Roman and Greek culture.

RESURRECTING OSIRIS WITH SEX MAJICK

One of the most revered tales of Isis and Osiris is the story of her beloved’s murder and the surreal resurrection of his spirit that ensued.

Isis began to make her presence known in Egyptian texts as early as the Fifth Dynasty (2494 BCE-2345 BCE). While the version of this story has morphed through the ages with different adaptations, the Greek historian Plutarch’s version was considered the most common version of the tale, even having been recorded almost a thousand years after the ‘myth’ had fully developed. In Plutarch’s version, Osiris’ brother Set discovers the murdered body of the brother whose life he had taken and set down the river, and further dismembers him, so as to disrupt Isis’ plan to resurrect him.

The details vary from story to story, but in one common retelling is Isis recovering all of his body parts except for his phallus, which she replaces with a Lapis Lazuli cock.

Transforming into a hawk (as seen in various temple depictions I’ve seen in the Isis and Osiris temples in Egypt), her bird-like form is seen mounting the fallen Osiris and his erect member, ultimately bringing him back to life.

This story heralds the transformative power of love even through the changes of death, and is a reminder that nothing ever true is lost, if it was true and genuine to begin with.

THE INITIATION OF SACRED LOVE

Many think that because I’m a guide and author on love, intimacy and sacred sexuality, I must have a great track record of relationships or that love comes easy to me. Alas, no. Quite the opposite in fact.

I’ve emerged from your typical broken single mum/absent dad family dynamic along with all of the toxic traits and negative traumas associated with relationships, so I’ve spent over a decade on a quest investigating the secrets to receiving, being, and growing love.

With Venus & Chiron the wounded healer in my house of career, it’s been a sacred paradox of leading from my own failures and vulnerabilities in this area (which I’m sure lends to my delicate understanding of the tender vulnerability that healing around love requires).

It’s taken many many years, one failed marriage, and a devotion to the path of sacred sexuality and self-love practices to get to where I am now.

While known for radically sharing my stories on sex, liberation and love with the world, the silent shame of not ‘having’ love and partnership had been silently strangling my voice, because here I was, a well-known figure and writer on sacred sexuality and love still wrestling with my own issues around intimacy and relationships.

If that isn’t the paradox of one’s purpose, I don’t know what is.

This tender paradox in fact was literally digging my spirit into an existential crisis of faith as I pondered whether to leave my vocation (because I apparently couldn’t walk my talk), and become a realtor like my uncle, slanging fancy hoods to foreign investors and trading my time for money.

But the nagging of my soul persisted and ached to be met. I would indulge is one last ritual for love with love, with help of course, from Isis.

It was a gentle Spring evening just after my birthday when I surrendered one last time to ask Great Spirit for a divine partnership. “This is the very last ritual I will do for love Goddess”…I whispered just loud enough for myself to hear.

As a ritualist, I’ve completed numerous rituals for love (too many in fact). Over the past six years, I had knocked on all the doors to the Gods and Goddesses, pleading for them to bring me the greatest love my soul had ever known.

From the Goddesses of China like Kuan Yin, to the Gods of Bali, those of the Yucatan, Hawaii, and so many more, my road finally led me to pound on the massive door of the Great Goddess of Magic, mystery and divine union herself….Isis.

Surely she could help me. She, the one who could resurrect her beloved from the underworld itself.

So, I fished out the remaining “MANifestation” letter I’d written (which had survived my many angry bonfires of impatience) which outlined all of the visions, characteristics, and values of my divine partner, and added a few more lines. I finished it off by affixing it with my power symbol, offered it up to the 4 corners of the Earth, and to add extra significance sacrificed my nightly tobacco ritual in exchange to Great Creator to bring me the union I so ached for.

Now released from any outcome, I set off one week later for a Tantra Festival. Quite excited to learn from other Tantra practitioners (and actually not even interested in connecting with any men), I went with a strong desire to NOT meet anyone.

When friends at the festival asked me about my relationship updates, I actually proclaimed I (of all people) was on a Man-Fast, abstaining from men.

While my soul still clung to whispers of faith that perhaps love would bless my life, holy fuck that prayer was fading fast.

Yet with a more compassionate lens and now looking back, I had been doing the work to prepare myself to drink from the well of love that I bone-deep knew was possible.       

Because everyone else around me seemed to be finding and experiencing love. The kind of love that shakes your world up, makes you a believer, and puts stars in your eyes.

Well-meaning friends would ask me if I had done the work to prepare myself or offer their own rituals they advised me would surely bring in love (as I rolled me eyes). Oh honey, I had been doing the fucking work. Dozens of rituals in fact, years of getting clear on what I wanted, the goodbye gratitude letters to former lovers and cord cutting ceremonies, healing my ‘daddy issues’ and forgiving my father to the point of an in-person reconciliation after 20+ years of being estranged, years of devoted self-love practice and even engaging my community in rituals to bless my life with love.

So, when our eyes locked in that moment during the eye-gazing transfiguration ritual at the Tantra festival, time stopped as I felt a moment of awareness that our connection felt so different than anything I’d ever felt with any other man.

A moment that felt like a lifetime, the gaze that stared back at me was pure and freed from any manipulation, attachment, or desired outcome. We were simply two souls curiously engaged in the work of opening to one another, freed from any desire other than to be present and open-hearted.

Pushing back his soft brown hair, he sat up straight and took a deep inhale as I sat down in front of him and asked if we could partner up. I noticed all of him, the clearness in his warm brown eyes, the grounded and quiet excitement as I shared my desire to partner, and his steady calm gaze. His eyes were dark pools of passion I could tell weren’t open to just anyone.

The organizers needed more time to gather and arrange the group for this massive eye gazing ritual, one where the women would take turns with each man, staring into their eyes for up to 3 minutes with each partner and drinking in each other’s essence. This practice of being with the Divine Masculine and Feminine in their many forms has a few gifts for those who partake in it.

One is that you have the chance to feel and sense different facets of the masculine in many men and the feminine in the women. The practice of eye-gazing with no words exchanged allows one to also sit with the deep feelings that arise when we gaze into another new soul, whether that’s awkwardness, openness, calmness, or even passion.

My turn with Roman became prolonged as we sat in stillness waiting for the ceremony to begin, and I peeked through closed lashes to drink in this man’s steadiness and focus.

We had briefly met in a previous workshop earlier that day and while I hadn’t really fully noticed him before (because of my man-fast), he was definitely capturing my full undivided attention now. I noticed his grounded clarity which oozed from his spirit and I could tell he was a man on a mission of integrity. My mind began wandering to even thoughts about what it would be to nuzzle his neck. “Easy girl”, my older inner sister whispered in my consciousness, “you have a whole ceremony ahead of you”.

The ceremony finally began, and I allowed myself to fall into his heart and hug his sense of loyalty, dance with the promise of his kisses, and surrender to a power I knew he tried to gently guard.

After our pairing ended, it was time to switch partners. As we were prompted to sit in front of each man, I felt the subtle nuances each man carried. There were the men I sensed who weren’t afraid of death yet couldn’t hold my gaze, or the men whose masculine was no match for my inner man and flipped me into my dominance to keep the gaze strong. It was only in front of the men whom I knew were in deep and loyal partnerships that evoked a river of tears from me, as I received their codes of what a healthy committed man in love’s energy felt like. No leaks, no eros running, just pure grounded energy holding my own so I could open to receive this soon-to-bud love coming my way.

The ceremony closed, and the large group slowly morphed into a wave of movement and dance as we transitioned into the evening ceremony of celebration. My body began dancing towards Roman’s on the dance floor, and I knew a move had to be made.

After inviting Roman outside to further converse under the stars, we found ourselves cuddled up and engrossed in learning more about each other. My ears perked up over his use of the word ‘loyalty’, and it was then  I knew I had made some progress in healing some attachment wounds that had made me attracted to unavailable men in the past.

The timbre of his voice and the song of his laugh began unfurling the tender petals of my heart, as our conversation evolved into touch. Hands on skin, oil on back, I let my skin slide across the landscape of his soul, learning the language of his essence. Our innocent exploration was just the tip of a mountain I felt I’d be climbing ever so soon.

Over those few days of that weekend Tantra festival, the portal into a realm of ecstasy began to crack open, and I fearlessly leapt through it with a giant fucking smile in my heart and lips. Our hearts gently finding their way together in various workshops and evenings, curious, intrigued and lit up in loving curiousity.

I returned home to my MANifestation letter and reconnected to the pieces that felt undeniably strong. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t becoming fantastically enamoured and was honoring the important values and characteristics I was calling in, “Grounded, spiritually inclined, kind, compassionate, loyal, and stable.” Ok, time would tell.

Synchronicity and strange signs began appearing for me to pay attention to. Signs like my grandmother quitting her 50+ year smoking habit roughly around the time I did my love ritual (and tobacco sacrifice), or past lovers reaching out to bless and release me, helping clear any energy from past relationships.

And Roman, he was able to meet me in the arising fears that had been emerging in the space of our distance and quell them with reassurance. This was new for me. He met my wild card uncertainty and ugly headed fears with the patience of a man who wouldn’t be dissuaded from love’s embrace by a few ghosts of my past.

He could hold me, or so I felt in those revealing conversations of vulnerability.

There were other signs emerging before we reconnected again a few weeks later. Signs that I noticed, but also tried to stay aloof about. Like when the shopkeeper at my favorite second-hand shop handed my daughter a wedding garter ‘as a gift’. Alright then. I had after all an entire vision board on relationship, love, marriage and devotion, so it was crawling in my consciousness.

“Nothing to see here consciousness”, I chuckled to myself as I tucked the garter away in my belongings.

Roman and I came back together again, our second official date being at a music festival, my favorite way to be in flow state. Before reuniting the next day, friends and I spent an evening huddled under our camping tent around a cluster of lit candles and rose incense burning. My friend Bunny regaled us with her intrepid tale of falling in love with her partner Peter, and how they didn’t return in each other’s life after an initial meeting until three years later. This affirmation of meeting her future husband felt like another strange sign in the stories of synchronicity I felt like I was trying to playfully evade looking at.

Reuniting with Roman the next day at the river, our nervous yet excited hearts were elated to be reconnected in person. It wasn’t the trauma-bonded attraction whose flavour I had known all too well. It also wasn’t the taste of safety I had played with in my early twenties as a coping mechanism to try and force love into a box or control a man. No, this felt like a healthy dose of intrigue, respect and genuine soul attraction I had truthfully had never felt before.

This felt like healthy attraction and burgeoning love. What a thing to feel at forty years old!

Our slow dance of curiosity continued into the evening through hilarious windstorm upsets, our tongues and bodies finally colliding for the first time in a gentle opening of heart and sex. He knew I needed gentle loving softness first, even while my boiling passion for him began to build in a fiery staccato of intensity.

Tapping my body and taking his time to caress and stroke my body, he entered my gates with such delicate care and a present heart. Here was a man who could lead me.

Orange and sunlit hues of the afternoon transformed into the dusky violets of evening and the deep throb of bass pulsed through bodies, his attention turned to the very important task of desiring to claim me as his partner officially.

The weekend together opened so many doorways of my heart I had thought were shuttered away for life, and as they flew open, gauzy sunlight poured into rooms and breathed life once again into the house of love.

The evening took us to explore the wonders of the festival together, our hearts happy with this new love blossoming between us.

As we spent the beginning of our evening exploring the various art scattered throughout the forest, we stopped in front of a robot sculpture, holding open a doorway to his chest. Peeking inside we saw a cute little garden growing inside, as the plaque invited us to share our own vulnerabilities with each other.

He pulled me closer and shared this robot had once been him, and yet here he was, the glacier to his heart thawing and bringing him to a new state of aliveness.

As I was about to open my lips and share my own vulnerability, his best friend approached, and we initiated our first-time meeting huddled closely together, slowly colliding with the ground in a puddle of laughter and smiles. She felt like a sister from a different lifetime, and as he gave us space to connect, it felt right to share with her the secret that wanted to be shared.

For over a year I had kept a Moroccan Taureg on my altar, a token of courage to gift my future lover and partner (when he would show up in my life of course). This necklace I felt was to be gifted to Roman in the future and I told her as much. His friend shared with me that her family just happened to be from Morocco and that I should come and visit the Berber people (her ancestors) when I went there (who just so happen to make these special necklaces).

“Well goddamn….just another crazy synchronicity”, my mind shouted in my head. I went to fish the necklace out from the travelling altar I carried with me and show her this special item, when instead the angel card emblazoned with the words “Soul Mate” (a card I also carried and prayed over to bring me divine union), flew out of the box and landed at Roman’s feet. I looked up into both of their faces, his of surprised astonishment, and hers of wild glee.

Face burning red, I stuffed it back into the box and quickly changed subjects.

The moments over those hours and days together wove such a delicious tapestry of joyful peace; riverside singing and massages as he lay in my lap while I ran my fingers through his hair, dressing him as a galactic avatar and seeing him come alive in his sexiness, to the laughter and joking that came so naturally when we were together.

The crescendo of our days together peaked as we lay in each other’s arms, our energy spent from our final evening primal dance of heat and sex, dominance and passionate surrender.

Pussy smiling and heart grinning, I lay in his sleeping arms hearing a jubilant song that only God could have placed on the nearby stage as if to congratulate me on the good work of opening to love.

This man, this time, this moment, our love.

Where do I even continue a story that takes a sharp new direction, decided by the winds of fate? While these kinds of sharp turns in a movie make for a most climatic Hollywood movie plot twist, when they happen in your real life, they most certainly don’t feel as exciting or welcome.

The days passed, the weeks flew by, and my heart expanded wider than I could have imagined. My trust in men, in him, and myself deepened into a new foundation that felt unshakeable. I felt like I was for the first time at 40, finally understanding what love really was.

From our long calls of faraway longing, inspired in-person dates, and moments of connection; or our nature getaway where he confided his desires to have children with me and go all into this expanse of love together, there didn’t seem to be any issues in communicating both our shared dreams, longings or fears.

As summer began to wane, we ventured into the wilderness yet again for a retreat to rest our hearts together before I found myself moving to his city. He arranged for a little cabin nestled in a private forest as the perfect oasis to deepen even more. Journeying with psilocybin medicine, my heart opened even further as the mushrooms came on. Walking past a giant tree, memories of my childhood innocence washed over me with such strong emotion as he just held me in his arms, steady as a rock. “I can’t imagine my life without you,” I whispered through my tears, and I meant it.

As dusk settled over the sky, our journey continued inside, him rolling on the ground like a lion awakening, while I pranced and danced in my skimpy lingerie. We played with each other like innocent children exploring bodies anew with curiosity. I massaged his body, tied a shawl around his head like an old lady, and we laughed. I cried. We shared our intimate stories, and I felt like this could never end. How wrong I was.

It would only be a few weeks later where our love would be initiated with a rare occasion. Our love’s crescendo climaxed into a ceremony, an erotic ritual theatre ceremony, where I played Cleopatra and he Mark Antony.

Star-crossed lovers they were, a union brokered with destiny and blinded by Eros, yet choosing love over fear, their story is one that’s captured generations of humans with the power of their blazing love.

Cleopatra was known as the one of most devote worshippers of Isis, her legendary leadership and prowess attributed to the power she derived from Isis and her wisdom.

It’s known that Cleopatra was one of the most devout devotees whom being a ruler of Egypt herself, drew power by association to the Goddess Isis to help her attain power and leadership.

Author Mary Naples shares how many similarities were drawn between the two in that, “even at fourteen years of age, as her father’s co-regent, Cleopatra emphasized associations between herself and Isis by incorporating the title Nea Isis or New Isis into her regal name.”

Cleopatra was synonymous with the great goddess Isis, from her undeniable ability to wield power, her magnetism and even the fact they both became single mothers whose beloveds were violently murdered.

I didn’t overlook the association when I was to many months later, also play Cleopatra in another one of our mythic ritual theatre experiences with my now beloved.

I was, however, well aware of the danger in involving my partner into a ritual where our death was enacted, as I knew how potent and powerful magic and ritual could be. As producers of this event, my colleague and I would retell these stories to create new endings, and I was intrigued to rewrite an inspiring new beginning for Cleopatra and Mark Antony. Surely, we as their embodiments, would go through some kind of rite of passage, one that would require an ending of sorts and a new rebirth.

Roman walked through the fire of his initiation so well, while even when his nerves shook and his courage to portray this potent warrior wavered, he nevertheless stood steadfast in this unique ritual with me.

If only he could have drawn from Mark Antony’s courage to lean into our love a little more, baring his beating heart with the courage of any strong warrior on the great battlefields.

If only I had known this ritual would be my last time kissing his lips.

If only I could foresee this would be our final moments together.

If only my intuition alerted me to drink him in just a little deeper before fate pulled us apart.

It was, of course, the Full Moon in Aries when the blow arrived, utterly surprising and shocking to my heart.

It had been just past the 3-month mark of our relationship as partners after a luscious summer of connecting, adventuring and falling in love.

During the Venus Retrograde, we went through all sorts of wild initiations that only tested our ability to trust each other, radically open up to one other, and do the deep authentic work of revealing our souls and their desires.

Our connection was wildly thriving (or so I thought) amidst the natural small hiccups that of course come (because what relationship isn’t without those), our sexual and emotional chemistry was absolute fire, our friendship and mutual respect were one of our foundations (in fact, I’ve never enjoyed a partner’s presence and personality as much as I did his), and our relationship made me grow even more into the woman I wanted to be.

Days passed after our ritual as Cleopatra and Mark Antony, and I could sense change in the air. In Aries fashion on the Full Moon in Aries, my bluntness cut like a knife.

“I can tell something is off with you. You canceled our plans the other day and the energy is weird, what is going on?”, my directedness startled him.

He slowly replied, “I think we should meet in person this Sunday to discuss”.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. Just spit it out”, I demanded as the dread in the pit of my stomach churned with what I felt was coming.

“I had a session with my life coach in seeing my future life, and I couldn’t see you in it. I couldn’t see our future together”, he shared in a hushed tone.

Dead leaves curling from his lips, falling to the ground to be crushed under feet now being blown apart in two different directions, it felt like the winds of change were sweeping our bodies apart.

Wow. Ok. Really.

He couldn’t see a future with this radical baddie of a woman who also happens to be a pioneer in the sensuality field, best-selling author, great mum, and all-around amazing woman?! Ok then.

The 180-turn of direction cut straight into my beating heart, and I felt everything and nothing all at once.

Then the intense rage came. Amidst the fury of anger that engulfed me for the next 24-hours, death metal music full blast as a soundtrack to my grief, sunshine spilling onto the patio of the new mansion I had just acquired with friends, the question haunted me….”Why?!”

These flickered into my brain at light speed with nowhere to land. “Why tell me you wanted a family with me? Why treat me so good? Why shower me with love that I felt I appreciated when you saw no future? Why meet my family? Why act like I mattered so much to you? Why lead me on when you didn’t see this going anywhere? Why act like you were so in love? Why tell your parents about me? Why end it when things felt like they were building so well?” On and on these raging questions shouted in my thoughts at full speed.

And then, the rage subsided into feelings of deep love and prayer once again for this man. Writing him an ode of grace and appreciation at 2am, in between my howls of sadness and spilling tears, I spit no poisonous venom energetically his way (as maybe was my past pattern in post-breakup situations).

No, this time, all that came through me was how much I wished happiness for him.

And if it couldn’t be with my wild, magical (and to be honest - utterly gorgeous) self, then the woman who would capture his heart would have to be one amazing human.

And I wished the same for me. If not him, it’s going to be someone else who only blows all my expectations out of the water.

Nonetheless, I wished us both happiness, because I deeply utterly loved this man, even if I had to let him go.

It really was only when he was gone that my initiation in love really began. Because the transformational pain in my heart in grieving our connection shook every last ounce of shielding I had around my heart.

ANSWERS WITH NOWHERE TO GO

In the hours and days of conversations with those who care about me as to what the hell actually happened, the nagging internal questions, “Well, how did I attract this person into my life, and what is this teaching me?” pervaded my mind.

While a wounded voice often responded, “so your father wound this…”, “you like unavailable men that…”, or ,“you’re just afraid of intimacy” flooded my need for answers (which are also tropes many “love coaches” adore using to blanket all experiences), I feel the real answer is far more complex, like:

• Sometimes people come into your life momentarily to awaken you back to your beauty and revive your heart. To help you remember your worth and share valuable lessons with you.

• Sometimes people freak out when things get real and vulnerable, and instead run from love (and ultimately themselves). Exploring attachment theory is a great resource to understand these dynamics. While we can learn about love from the sidelines, reading all the books, taking all the trainings, and doing all the solo self-work, the real work of love happens in its dojo - in relationship with another. This is where all your triggers, wounds, and patterns around love (and its avoidance) are revealed to be healed.

• Sometimes it takes time for someone to realize that the connection isn’t aligned long-term. They need time to know you (and themselves) before they’ll discover that values aren’t aligned, that you’re not ‘a match’, or insecurities around connection will ultimately win and they’ll continue the patterns in another relationship and with someone else, because they couldn’t do so with you.

There’s no black-and-white answers in love - which makes a breakup that much more heartbreaking in itself.

Because we humans like clean-cut answers. Answers that promise a relief from the pain of not knowing. Especially in situations where honest answers aren’t provided.

Such is the real battleground of love, one that only promises rewards amidst facing the real arrows you’ll likely receive lodged into your heart from choosing to say yes and open your heart to another.

And it is this very real work of opening to love (even when you’re afraid) as a spiritual practice, that keeps me coming back to my personal ethos and soul’s work helping others.

A EUROPEAN TOUR OF FORGETTING & REMEMBRANCE

Before we had even met, I had planned a trip to Europe for some retreats I was part of and also leading. And during our time in love together, he’d spoken of joining me in Italy for a lover’s getaway and to help me in my intimacy retreat. Another dream with him now dead.

But I was not to apparently forgot him easily on my “Eat, Pray, Love” trip to now also heal my heartbreak, because his (real) name was everywhere.

When you’re trying to forget the man who broke your heart right before your European adventure, it doesn’t help when his very name happens to be one of the major capitols here.

A cruel joke.

Seeing his name on the flight boards in the airports.

Every day his name coming into my casual conversations with locals here.

“Have you tried exploring_______ yet?”

“Oh, I’m originally from _______. Have you been there yet?”

“You should go to ________.”

It was a daily test to try and move on from him, a test I was fast failing.

Each and every time his name came up, feeling waves of his essence washed upon the shores of my being, lapping at the sands of my still present and aching love for him.

TO BE CONTINUED: Want to read the rest of the chapter in the “SECRETS OF THE GODDESS” Book being Released in 2024? Sign up for my mailing list to get announcements & get free access to my Sacred Sensuality Resource Bundle here.