I honor the sacred energy within me.

I let ecstasy flow.

Can we talk about ecstasy?

Not the drug. Not the orgasm. Not in that Harry met Sally kind of way.

But about the current inside each of us that is born and burnished from this unbearable longing to co-create. To share ourselves. To commune, and love. Not a product of friction or sex, but as sacred energy.

Last week I wrote about the Yamas of the Yoga Sutras, specifically the vow of Brahmacharya, the conservation of energy. I skirted around the traditional interpretation of the Yama as the practice of celibacy—only because of the misinterpretation of it as a moral imperative: one needs to be “pure” in order to reach spiritual heights. But it wasn’t only cessation that the seers and seekers practiced, it was refinement. They knew how to distill what we call sexual energy into higher purpose and communion. These were the ecstatics. They deeply experienced the Divine as a felt sense in the body. This is where tantra has its origins.

In the original sense of the word: ekstasis, from the Ancient Greek, meant “to stand outside oneself.” To be moved by something bigger. To be lifted. Stirred. Set aflame.

It’s still that.

As far as Brahmacharya goes, when the teachings of the Yoga Sutras entered everyday life—from sage to householder, its meaning evolved. Today it’s practiced as the wise use of energy. This isn’t about input or output, but how we store and steward vitality itself.

In Ayurveda there’s a kind of life force energy known as “Ojas” (oh-jus). Ojas is said to be the subtle essence formed in us when our body is nourished and balanced. It’s an essence that builds up slowly through the food we eat, the breath we take, the way we sleep, touch. Ojas is woven into our cells, our bone and marrow, organs and tissues; it is life-force condensed into flesh.

Since it emanates from the flesh, Ojas carries us toward ecstasy. It helps fire up that “joyous seizure”— when we are seized by ecstatic flame. This can be in moments of lovemaking, but it also can come from something else: creating works of art or music, or in dance, or devotional practice. It is a complete and unconditional sharing of self. Of soul.

Many years ago I went to Kenya for a “Sound in Poetry” workshop hosted by Stony Brook University. It was at an archaeological site right in the Rift Valley, where language began. If that wasn’t enough to stir something deep, we were invited to a dance at a nearby village— a village of straw huts, where the floors were the sand beneath our feet. Where women carried water jars on their heads, and the smiles of children seemed miles wide. We couldn’t speak their language, they couldn’t speak ours. But together we danced. Jumped, actually. Like jumping beans. Jumping for joy.

And it was joy—ecstatic, alive, embodied.

We’ve all felt something of this, that joyous seizure. And yet, so often we cut ourselves off from it. Maybe we were taught early on to shut it down. Or we were shamed or embarrassed by that energy. Told it was too much, too wild, too sensual.

Too pleasurable.

And now, maybe we’re angry at a partner, or feeling lonely and disconnected from our own bodies. Maybe we’re in a season of solitude or illness, or aging or grief. We don’t know what to do with this force inside of us. And so we clamp down, conserve, withdraw. Stifle the stirrings.

This is where aparigraha, the Yama of non-grasping, non-greed, enters. It reminds us that when we clutch too tightly—whether to our energy, our time, our love—we block the very flow that longs to move through us and delights in us.

Aparigraha isn’t just about letting go of material things, just like Brahmacharya isn't about conservation or cessation.

Aparagrapha asks us to loosen our grip, especially on power—the kind that clutches, controls, consumes. When we grasp too tightly—out of greed, or anger, or fear, or desperate need—we block that current instead of guiding it.

And when it dwindles, so do we.

At every stage of life—whether in partnership, singlehood, parenting, solitude, or elderhood—our sacred energy remains a source of creativity and vitality. It literally lives under our skin, ready to pulse— through art, relationships, or the simplest joy of being alive.

So consider: What is the state of your sacred energy right now? Do you need to rest, to rekindle, or to bravely share ecstasy in a new form? This force, like Ojas, is finite, just as our bodies are finite— but it is a potent gift we have been given. With care, it can ignite our lives in extraordinary ways.

Let’s practice.

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Practice Discovering the Sacred Spark

Take ten minutes. Sit or lie down. Feel supported and comfortable.

Place one hand on your belly another on your heart. Scan your body. Notice where there is tension, and soften that space with your breath.

Bring your attention to your low belly, into the space below the navel. Deepen your breath here, feeling its rhythm —steady, generous, intimate.

Imagine a small golden ember glowing there. Your center. Your spark. Notice any sensations, textures, temperatures, colors.

Be witness. And fully feel. Relax into this space. Notice any movement, any pull to any other parts of yourself.

What is this energy asking of you? What is it trying to say?

Reflect

Today, gently ask yourself: What does my energy want today? What would feel generous? What would feel kind?

When do I feel myself lift—into joy, into love, into the ecstatic edge of being alive?

And, what can sacred union look like in this season of my life?

Write

(Down the Page)

I can protect my sacred energy by____________.

When I ___________., I feel ecstatic.

When I co-create _________, I notice/feel __________.

Let the words come, just as they are.

Thank

Thank you, Sacred Energy, for returning to me.

Thank you, Breath & Body, for helping me rest & renew.

Thank you, Ecstasy, for enlivening me.

How did this practice work for you? Drop me a line, I'd love to hear from you!

Love, Jackie

A Sacred Invitation

If this conversation around sacred energy and embodied practice speaks to you, check out my course: The Great Vows and Gifts of Lent. Yes, Lent may be coming to a close, but not the journey. This 44-day self-paced course is really for any time you need to reset your life. Here, East meets West in a devotional practice that unites the transformative teachings of the Yoga Sutras and The Beatitudes of Jesus. t’s really all about “the examined life.” Here’s a link. I’ll be leaving the course open until June.

Also, my next Embodied Writing & Life series is: ForGiveNess: Acts of Joyful Giving. It includes 8-weekly live zoom classes or audio playbacks, writing prompts and supplemental materials on the science and health benefits of forgiveness. It opens April 23rd. I’d love for you to join me!

Photo by Omer Salom on Unsplash