Body as Temple | Clean Faith & Sacred Sensuality

Scene from Game of Thrones, in the ancient chapel at King’s Landing:

“Did you know that this chapel is one of the oldest structures in King’s Landing? Baelor built his sept around it... The people who built this place did not inflict their vanity on those who came after them, the way Baelor did with that great gilded monstrosity up there; their faith was clean.”

The High Sparrow’s reverence for the humble chapel over Baelor’s gilded sept reminds us of something ancient — a way of worship that was simple, cyclical, and alive.
Long before temples of stone and gold, before the rise of sky gods and hierarchies, there were the people of the earth.

They worshipped with the seasons.
They prayed through planting, harvest, and firelight.
Their altars were made of moss and moonlight.
Their rituals were not about power — they were about balance.

But then came the age of conquest — and the rewriting of stories.
The Church, seeking dominion, painted those ancient people as savage, as blood-soaked, as unholy.

Yet the truth is that most of their rites were celebrations of fertility, gratitude, and survival.
They honored life itself — the pulse of the land, the body, and the mystery that lives in both.

And when religion severed that connection — when it replaced intimacy with fear, and nature with shame — humanity began to lose its center.

Because when a system starts to dictate rules around sexuality, labeling natural pleasure as wrong, it fractures the human spirit.

Acts like masturbation, anal pleasure, or sex outside of wedlock — these things are not inherently evil.

They are simply expressions of human curiosity, intimacy, and energy.
They only became “sinful” through the lens of dogma.
And once sensuality is condemned, it doesn’t disappear — it hides.
It goes underground, where shame festers.

It becomes secrecy.
It becomes addiction.
It becomes the very suffering the system claimed to save us from.

What was once sacred — the act of touch, of release, of union — becomes shadowed by guilt.
And the body — our greatest temple — becomes treated as the enemy.

But I believe we are remembering again.
Remembering that clean faith is not gilded or guilted — it is grounded.
It is simple.
It is found in the breath, in the skin, in the rhythm of the earth itself.
To worship without shame is to come home — to the body, to the soil, to the sacred pulse of being alive.

With Love & Liberty

Jen Coombe ✨ alias ~ Jennadea