You Can’t Seduce Her If You’re Ashamed of Your Root

“But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

— Matthew 5:28

What stirs in you when you read that?

For most, it’s a subtle recoil—a tightening deep in the nervous system.

As if simply feeling desire means you’ve already sinned.

As if the natural pulse of arousal makes you spiritually unworthy.

But what if it was never the desire that fractured us…

What if it was the shame that was sewn into it?

What if the real exile from Eden didn’t begin with Eve biting the fruit…

but with the moment we decided that desire was unholy?

This piece isn’t about lust.

It’s about the war against it.

It’s about how religion, culture, and spiritual dogma taught men to split—

to float above their root, to fear their fire, to disconnect from the very current that awakens and anchors them.

It’s about why your seduction falls flat if your sexuality is something you’re still secretly trying to transcend.

Because no matter how much you meditate, manifest, or memorize techniques—if you’re ashamed of your root, her yoni won’t open.

This is about remembrance.

Reclaiming your base.

And learning to see sexual energy not as a barrier to God—but as the sacred force that carries you back to Her/him/it.*

Without wasting time.

Let get to it.

The Root Chakra: The First to Be Shamed

Most men don’t even realize they’ve been severed from their base.

They walk through life not broken—but hollow.

Not because they lack strength,

but because they were taught to fear the very fire that makes them whole.

The root chakra—your primal seat of presence, potency, and erotic innocence—was the first part of you to be shamed.

And that wasn’t random.

It was engineered.

From boyhood, you were trained to flinch at your own arousal.

To suppress your longing.

To believe your erection was evidence of sin, not life force.

That your desire made you dangerous—especially if it showed.

So you split.

You floated upward into your head.

Into strategy, intellect, and polite performance.

You spoke of purity while your root—your cock, your power—remained untended in the shadows.

You prayed harder.

Loved softer.

And wore spiritual language like a costume while secretly ashamed of the flame below.

But no one told you the truth:

Your root isn’t the enemy of God.

It’s the entrance to Her/him/it.

And when your root is exiled, your power becomes mimicry.

Your seduction becomes seeking.

Your presence becomes a mask you have to constantly polish—because the deeper signal was severed at the source.

The Invisible Block Most Men Carry

Ask a man if he’s sexually blocked, and he’ll likely say no.

He still gets hard. He still chases women. He still feels the pull.

But that’s not the real question.

The real question is:

Can you feel arousal without shame?

Can you sit in longing without needing to fix, hide, or explain it?

Can you feel her yoni pulse—and stay rooted instead of escaping to fantasies?

That’s the block.

Not in function—but in your relationship with your own desire.

It’s subtle, but devastating.

Even in the astral, shame flickers.

His energy might reach her—but it wavers.

It lacks charge, clarity, conviction.

The feminine, even in spirit, senses that fragmentation.

And she closes—not in rejection,

but because the frequency isn’t penetrative.

When a man doesn’t trust his own root,

he leaks the voltage required to truly penetrate her—physically or psychically.

When You Exile the Root, Your Power Becomes Performance

A man who owns his root moves differently.

He doesn’t chase.

He doesn’t explain.

He doesn’t posture.

Before he speaks, his body already speaks—humming with quiet voltage that draws eyes before words arrive.

You’ve seen him.

He enters the room, and women turn.

Not because of looks or charm—

but because his sexual energy is contained, not leaking.

Anchored. Coiled. Consecrated.

His cock isn’t numb or twitchy.

His presence doesn’t beg.

He doesn’t need anything from you.

He radiates sexual magnetism.

Elite athletes, warriors, and visionaries transmute their erotic energy into peak performance.

Their longing becomes ignition—often inspired by a woman who lives in their imagination.

"I do not seek her flesh, but the fire she awakens in me. Through her, my soul remembers its shape."

Unknown Mystic 

For many high-performing men, sexual fantasy isn’t escape—it’s devotion.

A psychic practice that sharpens focus, fortifies will, and awakens presence.

They don’t run from the fire.

They use it.

The Tale of Arion, the Flame-Bearer

Long ago, a warrior named Arion was feared in battle not just for his sword,

but for the fire behind his eyes—rooted deep in his loins.

Before every fight, he closed his eyes and summoned the image of his beloved—

a woman far away, but alive in his blood.

Not for flesh alone,

but because her memory lit his spirit and steadied his breath.

“In true battle, a warrior does not reach for rage—he reaches for remembrance. The vision of the feminine is not his escape. It is the ember he carries into war.”

— Ancient Warrior Sutras

His desire wasn’t a weakness. It was fuel.

He transmuted hunger into clarity, strength, and sacred fury.

Villagers whispered,

“Arion doesn’t fight with arms alone—he fights with love forged into will.”

He was not ashamed of his root.

He had become the altar itself—unyielding, alive, divine.

The Fire the Monk Couldn’t Transcend

In the high mountains, a monk hadn’t spoken to a woman in thirty years.

He fasted. Purified. Prayed.

His crown shone. His silence calmed storms.

One spring, a young woman arrived.

She said nothing. She simply sat.

Passing her in silence, he breathed her in—

not perfume, but the wildness of the earth rising through her.

That night, the monk trembled.

Not with fear.

But with remembrance.

His arousal rose like a serpent.

He fought it with mantras. Incense. Guilt.

But the fire only grew.

On the seventh night, exhausted and cracked open,

he dropped to the floor—not in defeat, but in devotion.

He bowed to the heat.

Placed his palms over his sex—not to suppress, but to honor it.

And something opened.

Not just in him—but in the temple.

The walls. The stones. The ether.

He understood:

This was not lust.

It was longing… returning to Source.

The woman never returned.

She didn’t need to.

She had awakened the part no mantra could reach.

From that day forward, his silence didn’t float above the world.

It pierced it.

Because he no longer feared the fire.

He had walked through it—

and found God waiting at the center.

The Divine Masculine Doesn’t Transcend Desire—He Consecrates It

The feminine doesn’t need perfection.

She doesn’t surrender to technique either.

She opens to frequency—to the presence of a man who is fully in his masculine essence.

Her yoni listens before her mind does.

It deciphers vibration.

If your energy is fragmented—if you fear your own heat—she’ll feel it.

And she won’t open.

When her yoni pulses in your presence, it’s not always an invitation.

Sometimes, it’s a test.

A psychic pressure asking:

“Can you hold what is awakening in you?”

If you carry shame, you’ll flinch.

Collapse. Perform.

Hide behind spiritual language.

But if your root is consecrated, you’ll breathe through it.

You won’t chase.

You won’t posture.

You’ll worship—not like a desperate man…

but like a god, smoking from a sacred chalice, unashamed of the flame he holds.

 The Root Is the Gate to Her Deepest Opening

The root isn’t just lust.

It’s safety. Memory. Divine imprint.

When a man is rooted:

He doesn’t chase—he radiates.

He doesn’t fantasize—he penetrates energetically.

He doesn’t collapse when tested—he anchors deeper.

This is the signature of the consecrated man.

And the feminine responds with involuntary surrender.

Her hips soften.

Her voice slows.

Her yoni begins to throb with ancient memory—even if you’re a thousand miles away.

Because finally, a man has arrived—

not afraid of her fire, or his own.

If You Want to Awaken Her, You Must Awaken All of You

Your sex isn’t a glitch in your spiritual system.

It’s the ignition point of your mission.

If your root is dead,

your seduction will always feel like reaching.

Your masculine drive will flicker and fizzle.

But when your root is alive,

your presence becomes a gravitational field.

She doesn’t need convincing or chasing.

She remembers...

Not because of what you say or technique —but because of your presence.

And when that memory stirs in her,

you’ll feel her open in ways no technique could ever force.And no man could ever replicate.

I close with this great quote.

“The body of the beloved is not a distraction from liberation.

It is the doorway.

The flame of arousal, when honored, becomes the chariot of ascent.”

— Vijnana Bhairava Tantra (adapted)

You are not Adam before the fall.

You are Adam after exile—

returning to your root.

Not ashamed… but sovereign.

Ready to Reclaim Your Root?

If this stirred something in you—don’t let it fade.

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💬 Drop a comment below: What was the first time you felt shame for your desire?

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With reverence,

Till next time,

Your friend,

Tomas

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