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Red Hot and Holy: A Heretic's Love Story, Paperback

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5 Review(s)
When one person dares to speak her truth, it challenges us all to live our own. With Red Hot and Holy, Sera Beak offers a provocative and intimate view of what it means to get up close and personal with the divine in modern times. With a rare combina...
Cod: b570e8cc-88d8-4d6a-8517-3d069c576261 / 136913
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61.59 RON


Case Smart

When one person dares to speak her truth, it challenges us all to live our own. With Red Hot and Holy, Sera Beak offers a provocative and intimate view of what it means to get up close and personal with the divine in modern times. With a rare combination of audacious wit, scholarly acumen, and tender vulnerability--vibrantly mixed with red wine, rock songs, tattoos, and erotic encounters--Sera candidly chronicles the highs and lows of her mystical journey. From the innocence of her childhood crush on God; through a whirlwind of torrid liaisons and bitter break-ups with Christianity, Buddhism, Sufism, Hinduism, and the New Age; and finally into committed monogamy with her own Red Hot and Holy Goddess, Sera shares transformative insights, encouraging us all to trust our unique path and ignite our own spiritual love affair. Sera Beak's luscious writing and renegade spiritual wisdom that slices through religious and new age dogma made her debut book The Red Book a breakout success. With Red Hot and Holy she offers a far more personal book--an illuminating, hilarious, and above all utterly honest portrait of the heart-opening process of mystical realization. This hot and holy book invites you to embrace your soul, unleash your true Self, and burn, baby, burn with divine love. Excerpt As a child, I was madly in love with God. Gaga for God. In grade school, I used to write "I (heart) God" at the top of all my homework assignments and in the margins of the notes I passed to my girlfriends about which boys we thought were cute. Next to The Little Princess, a children's bible was kept on my bedside table for nightly reading. Miracles? Prophetic dreams? Angels? Healing the sick? Sign me up for those gigs And every Thursday I believed J. C. dropped by my bedroom so I could ask him personal questions and tell him which sister was annoying me the most. I was magnetized to rosaries, prayers, and pyramids the way other kids were to doughnuts, MTV and the Cabbage Patch Kids, and ever
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