Ever since my hipster witch friend told me to put a crystal in my vagina to cure a yeast infection, I’ve been suspect of New Age culture. Words and phrases like chakra, energy, and “I’m sorry I’m late, but Mercury is in retrograde” are all major boner killers for me. But unfortunately, even in notoriously skeptical New York, it’s increasingly difficult to find someone who doesn’t believe that some magical cosmic force is dictating everything from subway timing to whether or not they’re getting laid. Everyone I date smells like sage. But of all the witchy rituals that my peers rejoice in—from yoga retreats to seances to the Urban Outfitters–sponsored group hug known as Coachella—the summer solstice is the least offensive. This is primarily because the solstice is pagan, which I associate with orgies, which are obviously chic.

The summer solstice is A Midsummer Night’s Dream time—if you remember from high school, that’s the one where they wear masks and run around in fields switching lovers. It’s witchy and magical, but in a hot, Eyes Wide Shut kinda way, rather than a “What’s your star sign?” kinda way. It’s the time of year when we’ve made it through the hellish winter and we can finally crawl out of our asexual Seamless caves, slather on the St. Tropez, and let loose our inner slut goddess. ’Tis the season to lick the salty sweat off of strangers. Or at least, that’s how I interpret it.

My friend “Kendal,” on the other hand, celebrates this point in the calendar somewhat differently. This year, Kendal is planning a special solstice masturbation ritual, in order to orgasm us (“us” as in, like, humanity) into summer. I watched Kendal do a similar ritual a couple years ago, when she orgasmed a group of high people into 2015 at a New Year’s Eve party at a loft in the Financial District. “That was a performance piece–slash–ritual titled The Yoga of Self Pleasure,” Kendal reminded me over matcha in Soho. “My intention was to have an interactive experience in front of an audience to demonstrate self-pleasure as a tool for universal healing.”

If that makes zero sense to you, imagine a roomful of people watching as a woman—stark naked, save for a flower crown—touches herself in a circle of crystals, while a group of spiritual interns rub her inner thighs and a man in cosmic-print leggings does an interpretive dance to the soundtrack of live, dramatic cello. Honestly, it was a good party trick. “I’m doing something similar for this solstice,” Kendal told me. “A group of people will self-pleasure and have an orgasm together in dedication to a specific wish or prayer. Because orgasms are so powerful! My life is proof of that. Anytime I’ve wanted something—material, financial, emotional, spiritual, whatever—I have dedicated my orgasms to whatever it is I am desiring and, boom! It shows up.”