The Alchemy of Desire: Confessions of a Wandering Soul
There comes a time in every seeker’s life when the heart, weary from wandering, turns around and asks: “Was I wrong to search for God in the arms of others?”
I have asked myself that question more times than I care to admit.
Because I have loved many women.
And by “loved,” I don’t mean always wisely, nor selflessly. Sometimes love was just desire dressed in longing. Other times it was a genuine connection—but transient, like a candle flame in a breeze.
I’ve had four children with three women: two Americans, one Swiss. Beautiful souls. From those brief, vivid unions came the stars of my lineage—each child a bright echo of those liaisons. I carry no shame in their existence. On the contrary, I carry them—in memory, in gratitude, in continuing love.
But the truth is, for many years, my relationships had a rhythm of impermanence. In my bachelor days in the U.S., it became almost ritual: never let a relationship last longer than two years. I didn’t plan it—it just unfolded that way. A cycle of meeting, passion, connection... then withdrawal, disappearance, ending. It became a dance I knew too well.
And yet, deep inside me, a spiritual hunger burned. I was not a reckless hedonist. I was a man trying to fill a void, to answer questions that no temple or scripture had yet clarified.
Could love heal me? Could sex be a doorway to the sacred?
Could I find God, not in renunciation, but in immersion?
The Weight of Guilt
But guilt… guilt followed me like a silent dog.
Not because I sinned in the eyes of any church or mosque, but because I knew better.
Or at least, I should have.
In Buddhism, there is a belief that reckless indulgence can lead to rebirth in lesser realms. I used to joke, half seriously, that I might return as a dog in the next life—driven by urges, instincts, and unfinished karma. Not as punishment, but as a reflection of how I misused the divine gift of intimacy.
Even now, I carry that weight—not always heavy, but always there.
Sexuality and the Sacred
What I didn’t know then—but feel in my bones now—is that sexuality and spirituality are not at odds.
Not in Hermeticism. Not in Tantra. Not even in the deeper, more mystical currents of Islam and Christianity.
Sex is life force—raw, potent, beautiful.
When shared with consciousness, it becomes a form of prayer.
When unconscious, it can scatter the soul across years, faces, and memories you can no longer name.
I don’t regret the love. I don’t regret the desire.
But I wish I had been more present, more responsible with the energy exchanged.
Now, older and quieter, I look back not with shame, but with a kind of tender repentance.
A prayer for all the women I’ve known:
May they be happy. May they be free. May they be at peace.
And a prayer for myself:
Let all that passed be blessed. Let what’s coming be received in peace.
The Ending Note
As I write this, a Solfeggio frequency track plays in my ears—healing tones meant to harmonize the chakras.
Just as I read the last sentence of this reflection, the video ended with a soft tinkling chime. I smiled.
I took it as a sign:
The Universe heard me.
This is the sound of completion.
Not of the journey—just of this chapter
#SpiritualConfession #AlchemyOfDesire #SacredMasculinity #SexualityAndSpirituality #HealingThePast #MemoirOfASeeker #KarmaAndGrace #FathersJourney #HermeticWisdom
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