A journey into the unknown

Sexibility festival: Exploring sensuality, intimacy, sexuality, body & soul

When a friend from a tantra workshop mentioned he was heading to the Sexibility Festival in Sweden, I was intrigued. The festival promised a unique mix of tantra, spirituality, and personal development, all set in the tranquil, remote surroundings of Ängsbacka – a place I’d only heard whispers about. Without knowing what to expect, I impulsively bought a ticket. Unlike the tantra retreats I was accustomed to, where the experience is carefully curated and shared by a tight-knit group, this festival offered a different approach: the freedom to choose your own path, selecting from a variety of workshops, or stepping back whenever you needed to.

As the day of departure approached, I found myself filled with curiosity but also a touch of anxiety. I was going alone, with only a vague acquaintance to rely on, and I had no idea what awaited me. But everything about this festival was designed to break down those initial barriers, helping people connect quickly and deeply. In this blog, I’ll share my impressions of the festival and some of the valuable lessons I learned along the way.

Exploring Ängsbacka

Nestled in the serene and lush forests of Värmland, Sweden, Ängsbacka is more than just a location—it’s a sanctuary for personal and spiritual growth. With a history spanning over 25 years, this renowned festival and course center has welcomed thousands of people from around the world, offering a warm, open, and loving atmosphere that fosters deep connections with oneself, others, and the surrounding nature. Located near a stunning lake, Ängsbacka is a place where many have found inspiration, peace, and a sense of home, making it the perfect backdrop for a transformative Sexibility festival experience.

What truly sets Ängsbacka apart is its strong sense of community. Many people return year after year, drawn to the inclusive atmosphere and the bonds they’ve formed. I met an Australian who was spending his 18th summer at Ängsbacka, and many Swedes, who first came as children, now return with their kids, especially for the Midsummer celebration. This is a lively, close-knit community where connections run deep, and the festival is just one aspect of the vibrant life here.

The community spirit is evident in every detail, from the ratio of two volunteers for each participant, ensuring that everything runs smoothly, to the impressive efficiency of the kitchen staff. The vegetarian food was not only delicious but also prepared and served to 400-500 people in under ten minutes—a feat of organization and efficiency that perfectly embodies the collective effort and care that define Ängsbacka.

Spicy or not?

As the name ‘Sexibility’ suggests, the festival embraces a sex-positive atmosphere, with opportunities for sex, nudity, and intimate exploration. However, participation is entirely up to you—you can stay fully clothed and choose workshops that focus solely on personal development. Each workshop is rated with zero to three chilies to indicate its level of spiciness: zero chilies means fully clothed and no sexual content, while three chilies signal a more intense experience. The zero chili options include dance, personal development, breathwork, and consent workshops, among others. On the other end of the spectrum, there are workshops on kissing, sex magic, tantra, BDSM, and many more.

Every day, you can choose from a variety of workshops—sometimes up to six in a single time slot. Beyond the workshops, the festival also offers a sauna, café, creativity room, and extras like portrait drawing or private sessions with practitioners. For those seeking a more sensual experience outside of structured workshops, there are dedicated playrooms and tantric rooms where these activities are welcomed.

One aspect I particularly appreciated was how the festival structured the workshops. The first day was dedicated entirely to consent, boundaries, and self-awareness—topics that were consistently emphasized throughout the event. Even in the toilets, there were reminders about respecting your boundaries and taking care of yourself, reflecting the core principles of Ängsbacka and the Sexibility Festival.

The support at the festival was thoughtfully organized. An emotional support team was available to assist anyone experiencing trauma or dealing with heavy emotions. There was also a dedicated team for those feeling lonely or lost, offering someone to talk to. Each morning began with a meeting to discuss the day’s theme and workshops, with guidance tailored to the group’s evolving needs. For instance, as the festival neared its end, the organizers acknowledged the anxiety some felt about leaving and offered advice on how to manage it.

Another supportive feature was the formation of sharing groups on the first day. These small groups met daily, providing a space to share experiences and feelings. This created a sense of family and connection within the larger festival, making the experience more intimate and supportive. The festival’s design, honed over years of experience, incorporated elements I’ve seen in retreats, but within a vibrant festival setting.

Navigating dorm panic and privacy challenges

As an introvert, I usually opt for a private room at events to recharge after a day of socializing and engaging activities. However, by the time I booked my spot at the festival, only dorm rooms were available. I settled for a four-person dorm, hoping for a semblance of privacy amidst the hustle.

Upon arrival at Ängsbacka, a friendly volunteer guided me through a maze of dorm rooms crammed with IKEA bunk beds, leading me to a crowded six-person room. Panic surged as I imagined sleepless nights and zero personal space. Desperate, I scoured Airbnb for alternatives and found a nearby private room, only to discover it wouldn’t be available until the next day.

Determined to make the best of the situation, I spent the first night in the dorm, reasoning there might be lessons to learn. Walking through the crowded dorms filled with the sounds of snoring and the scent of too many people in close quarters, my anxiety peaked. Yet, our small room, tucked away at the end of the dorm, was quieter and darker, with no snorers in sight. Exhausted, I managed to sleep with earplugs and a face mask, relieved to have made it through the night.

Just as I prepared to move to the private room the next day, I learned it was no longer available. At that moment, I accepted that staying in the dorm was part of the experience. Despite challenges – like the guy below me who always hit snooze on his alarm – I adapted. Surprisingly, the dorm was more manageable than I expected, and the people were generally respectful.

Sleeping in dorm rooms, being surrounded by people all day, and sharing bathrooms left little room for privacy. Even the bathrooms had shared showers, so solitude was scarce, even when showering. The mixed-gender dorms and showers felt strange at first, but eventually, it became normal to have casual conversations with strangers while brushing teeth or waiting in line.

Despite the lack of privacy, this setup fostered a strong sense of community. Everyone looked out for each other—if someone forgot to take their plate to the kitchen, others would step in to help. This collective care and the strong volunteer presence created a unique camaraderie, making it easier to navigate the lack of personal space. The shared experience of living in close quarters, enjoying great vegetarian meals prepared with incredible efficiency, and supporting one another deepened my appreciation for the community spirit that defines Ängsbacka. Still, I found myself wishing for just a bit more privacy amidst the constant togetherness.

Principles that ground the festival

Both Ängsbacka and the Sexibility festival are grounded in strong principles that offer important life lessons, which are reinforced throughout the event in various ways. The atmosphere is inclusive, with a focus on respect, consent, and self-awareness. The mantra “Welcome home to yourself” resonates deeply, encouraging participants to honor their own boundaries and desires. The rule is simple: if it’s not a “hell yes,” it’s a no. Self-care is paramount, as is the need to know and communicate what you truly want.

One of the big topics is embracing rejection as a natural part of life and learning from it. When someone says “no”, our response should be “Thanks for taking care of yourself.” The festival also fosters a culture of mutual respect. Participants are encouraged to ask, “What do you need?” before acting or suggesting, creating a space where everyone feels seen and heard.

There is no alcohol or drugs allowed, ensuring that connections are made with clarity and intention. These principles create a safe and transformative environment where deep connections can flourish, and personal growth is nurtured.

The festival emphasizes the value of going slow, and that is one of my main takeaways. Pleasure can be found in small things, such as kissing, even more so in the tension of ‘almost kissing,’ as I experienced in a kissing workshop. When so many ‘big’ things are on offer around us, we can easily get lost in chasing for peak experiences, while the magic often lies in more subtle moments.

An unforgettable experience: The kissing meditation

One of the most memorable workshops I attended at the festival was called the Kissing Meditation. There was a guy in my sharing group with whom I felt a strong connection, and I really wanted to kiss him. Instead of rushing into it, I invited him to join me for the workshop, allowing the anticipation to build over the days leading up to it. We resisted the urge to kiss before the workshop, which only heightened our eagerness for the experience.

The workshop was beautifully structured to slowly build intimacy. It started with us sharing stories about our first kiss, the best kiss we ever had, and the worst kiss we ever had. This exercise helped us understand each other’s attitudes toward kissing and brought us closer even before we made any physical contact.

Next, we moved on to more tactile interactions. We began by simply looking at each other’s lips, and then asking permission to touch them gently with our fingertips. Gradually, we progressed to touching each other’s lips with our own and then exploring the rest of the face with light kisses. The buildup continued – first, we kissed like children, with closed mouths, then gently bit each other’s lips, introduced a little bit of tongue, and finally used our hands to caress each other’s faces.

Over the course of an hour and a half, the slow, deliberate progression made the experience incredibly powerful. By the time we fully kissed, the anticipation had created such a deep connection that it turned out to be the best kiss I’ve ever had. The careful, step-by-step approach of the workshop transformed a ‘simple kiss’ into an unforgettable moment of intimacy.

Diving into the playroom

In the evenings, the playroom opens – a space that’s both thrilling and a bit intimidating. On the first day, they organize an introduction so everyone can get a feel for the room, understand the rules, and adjust to the concept. The idea is simple: if you meet someone at a workshop or around the festival and want to explore intimacy or play, you head to the playroom instead of the central areas where others are eating or attending workshops. You can either go there directly with someone or enter the ‘waiting room’, where facilitators help break the ice through games and conversations, potentially leading to a connection with someone.

I attended the introduction, and while it gave me a sense of the space, there was still a mix of excitement and nervousness about actually going there. Most people I spoke to felt the same – a bit scared but also curious to experience it. On the last evening, after a party where everyone dressed up, my friend from the kissing workshop and I decided to check out the playroom. My friend, dressed for the first time in a body stocking and a borrowed dress, was eager to explore this new side of himself. We had been feeling a bit low after the party and didn’t want to end the night that way, so we thought, why not?

When we arrived, the playroom was packed. People were everywhere—on mattresses that covered the entire floor space – dressed, undressed, playing, making love, cuddling, and laughing. The room was a vibrant mix of ages, genders, and identities. We eventually found a tiny space to sit, surrounded by the sounds of moans, laughter, and the occasional swish of a whip. The whip was so close that we could feel the rush of air against our skin with each swing. It was surreal – people’s arms and legs casually brushing against us, sometimes even falling on top of us. At one point, there was even a floating butt right above us!

It was a strange mix of feeling both completely normal and utterly bizarre. On one hand, it was just ordinary people being human, uninhibited, and free. But then, there would be a moment of clarity where I’d realize, “I’m in a room full of people having sex, with limbs all around me, with a guy in a dress I barely knew a few days ago.” And in those moments, all you can do is laugh. So, we laughed together, breaking the tension, and then dove back into the experience. It was a night of beautiful music and a truly unique experience that’s hard to put into words.

The bubble beyond the festival

On the flight back to Amsterdam, I found myself sitting next to another Dutch girl who had also attended the festival. We hadn’t spoken during the event but recognized each other immediately. Amidst all the travelers returning from their holidays in Sweden, we started reminiscing about the festival, sharing stories and laughs. I told her about my playroom experience, with all the arms and legs, and the guy in the dress, and we couldn’t stop laughing. It was only then that I noticed the curious glances from the other passengers—they must have thought we were completely bonkers, and maybe we were!

Final reflections

Reflecting on my time at the Sexibility festival, I realize how much the experience taught me the importance of going slow and truly feeling into what I want, rather than being swayed by what others are doing or the myriad of possibilities available. This focus on slowing down and tuning into my own desires allowed me to connect more deeply with myself and others, leading to moments of profound personal insight.

One of the most significant lessons I embraced was the principle of consent: if it’s not a full yes, it’s a no. This understanding helped me navigate the festival with clarity and intention, reinforcing that a ‘maybe’ is a no unless it naturally evolves into a full, enthusiastic yes. This approach not only deepened my respect for my boundaries but also fostered a sense of trust and authenticity in my interactions with others.

While the festival offered a wide range of intense and exciting experiences, what resonated with me most were the small, magical moments that unfolded when I allowed myself to be present—like the kissing meditation workshop. It was in these slower, more intentional encounters, guided by the clarity of consent, that I found the greatest joy and connection. As I return to everyday life, I carry these lessons with me, grateful for the journey that emphasized the power of going slow, honoring my own needs, and savoring the simple, authentic moments. These are the moments I’ll treasure the most, reminding me to always listen to my full yes.