Over the past few years, I’ve heard a growing number of people speak with reverence about sacred sexuality and Tantra. Many have shared how these practices have helped them heal from shame, reclaim joy in their bodies, and relate to others in more open-hearted, non-attached, genuinely loving ways. I’ve seen how people have used breath, touch, presence, and intention to soften the armouring around their hearts and their bodies. And I’ve met people, people I trust deeply, who say these practices have helped them come home to themselves in beautiful ways.
And yet, for a long time, I steered well clear of this world.
My caution wasn’t rooted in prudishness. It came from something deeper – a quiet alarm in my body, a sense of unease I couldn’t quite name. I’ve watched as people used the language of “sacred” and “Tantra” to justify behaviours that, in other settings, might be seen as manipulative or self-serving. I’ve seen how, under the banner of healing and liberation, some people, especially men, have used these practices as a pathway to more sex, not necessarily more presence, responsibility, or devotion.
And while that isn’t true of everyone in these spaces, and while I’ve come to see the real value in sacred sexuality when held with integrity, something has recently been brought to my attention that leaves me questioning this whole field once again.
It’s this: there is almost no conversation about what happens if a woman gets pregnant.
In all the talk of healing and honoring the feminine, of shedding sexual shame and transcending monogamy, this one basic, biological, sacred reality is astonishingly absent. And in that absence, I believe something vital, perhaps the most vital thing, is being at best missed, at worst willfully ignored.
Yes, there are conversations about consent and boundaries. Yes, there are tools for navigating the emotional complexities of open relating and polyamory. There’s attention given to the energetic dynamics between the masculine and feminine, and to the importance of mutual respect and clear communication.
But in all of this, the actual consequence of penetrative sex – pregnancy – is almost entirely overlooked. It’s not front and centre. It’s not being asked about, considered, or even mentioned in many of the conversations I’ve encountered.
And to me, this feels like a glaring, dangerous, and deeply dishonouring omission.
Let’s be clear. In many sacred sexuality spaces, penetration happens. Ejaculation happens. And where these happen, pregnancy is possible, whether people want to acknowledge it or not.
When this reality is ignored, it’s not just an oversight or a forgotten detail. It is a profound disservice to the feminine, to women, and to the sacredness of life itself. Because when you bypass the possibility of pregnancy, what you are really bypassing is the whole truth of what it means to enter a woman’s body.
The feminine body is not just a site for healing, or pleasure, or transcendence. It is a creative force. It is a gateway for life. And that has implications – not just spiritual and emotional, but biological, practical, and existential.
To leave that out of the conversation is to once again do what patriarchal systems have done for centuries: use the feminine while denying its reality.
And that’s the painful part. These spaces often claim to be about honouring the feminine. About reclaiming what’s been shamed, suppressed, or silenced. About helping women heal from the wounds of a society that has long treated their bodies as objects or commodities.
But what happens when those same bodies are brought into sexual intimacy in the name of healing or liberation, and the full truth of what they carry is still ignored?
Even in the most “conscious” settings, a woman can be made to feel responsible for the emotional, spiritual, or sexual evolution of a man. Whether it’s through the idea that her yoni can be “healed” by his presence, or that she’s a vessel for divine union that leads him to enlightenment, the burden remains.
In one form or another, she is still being used. Her body is still being drawn into someone else’s journey, whether for gratification, healing, or transcendence, without full acknowledgment of what that might cost her.
And in this context, failing to discuss pregnancy isn’t just a logistical error. It’s an act of spiritual bypassing. It’s a refusal to take full responsibility for what is being co-created.
Because let’s not forget: pregnancy changes everything.
Even if a woman chooses not to carry the pregnancy to term, the moment of conception, in fact, even the possibility of it, can shake her to her core. It can stir grief, trauma, fear, ancestral memory. It can ignite a sense of being deeply alone, even in a so-called “conscious” container. It can feel like being suddenly catapulted out of the energetic, the spiritual, the subtle, and straight into the raw, messy, embodied reality of what sex actually is.
And if she does choose to carry the pregnancy, her life will be altered – physically, emotionally, financially, relationally. Potentially forever.
That deserves the kind of presence, reverence and responsibility that true sacredness is built on.
So this is the invitation I want to make, not just to men, but to all of us who are drawn to these spaces of sexual awakening and spiritual intimacy.
If you are engaging in practices that include penetration, ask the question first: What would happen if pregnancy occurred? Not in theory. Not abstractly. Really. For this person, in this life, right now.
And if that question feels awkward, uncomfortable, or “not spiritual,” then I would suggest that the practice is not yet truly sacred.
Because anything that claims to honour the feminine but refuses to face the real risks that women carry is not honouring at all.
It’s time to make this conversation central. Not as an afterthought. Not as an exception. But as the foundation of any space that works with sexuality, sexual energy, sacred intimacy, or embodied spiritual practice.
Until we do, we are not evolving beyond the past, we are just repackaging old dynamics with prettier language. We are still asking women to carry the cost of male gratification. We are still failing to meet the fullness of the feminine with the reverence she deserves.
And perhaps most disturbingly, we are still treating life itself – its potential, its sacred spark – as an inconvenient footnote.
That’s not sacred.
That’s not conscious.
That’s not love.
Let’s do better. Let’s be braver. Let’s tell the whole truth.
Counselling and Psychotherapy 