I asked my womb blood what she was processing? "Everything" she said. She told me how today's pain was in the alchemical simmering of my vast feminine void.
How that all women who bleed are interwoven across the planet, lighting up with a web of ancient consciousness whereby we are in service to the Earth and all those on her. Our blood gives back life to that which needs replenishing, nurturing, love and forgiveness.
Women who bleed purify their environments through these dark waters of the womb, vacuuming up their lovers intentions both conscious and unconscious, whether it be their love or whether it be their pain.
She takes on the emotional load of not only those close to her, her children and her family but also what has come into her awareness, be it in her neighbourhood or something from the news.
Each woman is a grid point in her community anchoring in this holy rite, returning all that she has processed through the month back to the Earth alchemising it all through her body. Her womb space is a cauldron of the universe, a physical manifestation of primordial feminine magic.
Her blood is not dirty but full of life codes and stem cells, it literally takes all intentions and births it into creation. I imagine the work that we are in the midst of currently endeavouring as modern women, and that is the remembering and reclaiming of this feminine sacredness.
Long may we know it.
Long may we share it.
She is ROOTED firmly into the womb of Gaia
She TREADS purposefully through every door
She is DEVOTED to her body, her Portal and Temple of her feminine sacredness
She trusts in herself so she can SURRENDER to the consciousness of her body
She BURNS through shame conditioning and programming, by revelling in the juiciness of her body exactly how it is
She walks through places in all dimensions but remembers her purpose is HERE in this NOW
Come home to your body sister, she is waiting
He said I looked like candy and saw my sweetness without tasting but with knowing. I admit those words were like silken honey oozing into scars and kissing better memories of wars etched into my skin.
Under his gaze I felt like a flower blooming open petal by petal under sunlit cosmic rays, sometimes revealing a nectar but sometimes turning away.
This work we do, revealing and retreating into sacred space of the beloved's arms yet finding not the other but myself.
When love means freedom, the triggers are the guides and the path to home. What a beautiful blessing to share with the other, a sacredness and holy truth