Savina Atai – the levitating little girl who traded enlightenment for a vibrator, started living her life, and now helps thousands of Women ignite their golden hormones.
Before the age of nine, Savina had been baptised in 6 different religions, gone through more than 100 spiritual initiations, and mastered advanced yogi, Taoist, and shamanistic techniques. She later swore never to return to the realm of spirituality again.
A FEW TURNING POINTS THAT IMPACTED SAVINA’S LIFE AND PATH:
I spent the first few years of my life in and out of hospital, as a result of being born prematurely and contracting blood poisoning during delivery. Later, hospitals were exchanged for churches, temples, and the feet of the world’s greatest gurus. I was the golden-haired, freckled little girl who had drunk enough holy water to fill an ocean.
Before I attended primary school, I learned yogi flying (an advanced siddhi course in yogi flying) from Maharishi Mahesh yogi, the father of transcendental meditation at the Seelisberg castle in Switzerland.
On the way from Medžugorje, a village with reported sightings of Mother Mary. we had a car accident.
My mother immediately told me that we had the car accident because I had left the church after hours of uninterrupted prayer to get some fresh air. I had evoked the wrath of God. I was to blame.
I was taken to the hospital in Bosnia where the doctors stitched me up as best they could then I was rushed, unconscious, to the emergency room in Ljubljana. The inflammation in my injured leg was so severe that it began transforming into gangrene. I was at risk of losing my leg. The doctors were contemplating amputation.
They were so focused on my leg that they overlooked the fact that a part of my sacrum had been crushed during the car accident. During my extended stay in the hospital and mandatory bed rest, my injured sacrum healed improperly. My mother visited me in the hospital in the company of missionaries, bioenergetic healers, and Jehovah’s witnesses. They prayed over my sickbed and brought me red beet juice.
My mother never took me to physiotherapy. Instead, we embarked on a lengthy spiritual and nutritional expedition to America. There, we lived with the queen of chlorophyll and the inventor of green juices Ann Wigmore at the famous Hippocrates Health Institute. We had nothing but sprouts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and wheat grass for dessert.
Next, we moved to the macrobiotic institute of Michio Kushi where we were the only people not suffering from AIDS or in the final stages of cancer. Every single meal consisted of brown rice, a small portion of cooked vegetables (chopped and sliced according to the yin and yang principle), and a pinch of roasted sesame. We had to chew every piece of food a hundred times in order to activate the digestive enzymes in our mouths.
We departed from the clinic of the dying and travelled to Montana to see Elisabeth Clare Prophet, a guru and the leader of the I AM movement. There, we woke up long before sunrise in order to recite mantras that would summon the Ascended Masters.
I was nine years old when I told my mother that her partner was hugging me in very weird ways. That he was touching me. My mother’s new partner, and the father of my half-brothers, was a priest who had left the church. My mother looked at me with cold, accusing eyes and said: ‘I’m not surprised. You are the one walking around the apartment in your underwear! You are trying to seduce him. You are trying to steal him from me.’
When the person whom you love more than anything, who is the holiest to you, and who is supposed to know what’s best for you tells you that something is your fault, you believe them. You believe them and you realise that you are worthless.
My mother’s partner continued touching and sexually abusing me for years to come. The abuse only got worse with each time it happened. My first intimate experience with a man was my step-father’s abuse.
When my little brother was ten months old, he suddenly got diarrhoea and started to wither away before our very eyes. My mother gave him carrot juice to drink and prayed for him. Three days later I went down on my knees and begged her to take him to the hospital. Next morning, she really did take him to the hospital. Seven days later he died there. His brain had stopped working.
My mother blamed me for his death. She had tried to pray my father’s Satanic seed away from my soul for years, but she failed. I was the one who told her to take her son to the hospital. And that was where he died. I was to blame.