It’s 8.16am. I’ve been up since the cawing of the cockerel. I haven’t slept much since Venus began her beloved dark dance with Pluto. The underbelly of love has revealed itself, in all of it’s raw fleshy glory and on this sun lit morning, I’m called to go to the bottom of the garden to meet the dark feminine of my tender soul….
I light the candle and burn the sage, knowing that this space is the most holy of places. Not may know that, but I do. I call in grief like a long lost lover. I call her in so fiercely that in seconds, I’m cracked by this mysterious force, that most spend their whole life time pushing away, but not I. I know that deep down there in the belly of the whale, lies the deepest medicine a woman can drink. It’s dark medicine, but then after all I am the dark alchemist, so drink my own medicine I will. With gusto, mi amor, with gusto….
Only the ones who are ready to turn towards her deepest longing can feel this grief and know that it is in fact the gateway to all of her loves needs. It’s insanely paradoxical, for she has been taught that to be a woman, is to tame this wild and plaster her with a mask so thick, that she can’t breathe. She was taught this in order to survive and in so believed that she was living. But not his woman. She knows that this wild is what she has been starving for. She’s gone so far over the edge that she’s doesn’t fear her madness, in fact she knows it as Beloved. So she chooses to feel this love that first comes in the disguise of grief. She opens her temple body to the well of grief for all the women who have chosen to be single because they kew that sacrificing their wild for a worn out version of love was the biggest betrayal of womankind and at the same time she opens her soul to the grief of all of the women who sacrificed their wild for a love that was too small. That’s how big her love is, in this sacred space, she can feel the bottom less pit of the feminine dark.
I often wonder if there is a man who can meet me in this level of feeling. I’m calling out the ancient prayer of late, send me my man. If he were to arrive in this moment, what would he do? Would he want to come and save me from this hell bent ecstasy? Or, would he instead be able to meet this face and all of the other faces of the feminine that are so part of this divine tapestry. I pray for the latter. In fact it can only be so….
This grief is so ancient. And yet it happened only two days ago. This grief is as old as the soul. Know that I too am terrified beloved. Know that I too am scared that if I reveal all of me, that you’ll turn your back, that you won’t be able to stay.
I’m terrified that you’ve been wounded beyond recognition by the feminine that couldn’t hold herself in the force of these waves. How can I show you that I’m not afraid to feel this? How can I prove to you that no matter how many times you reject me, I will continue to choose love, because that’s who I am. How can i show you, that I’m not afraid to feel abandoned by you, because the only thing that can be rejected is the depth of this feeling.
This grief is my love. This rage is my love. This abandonment is the depths of how much I can love. These tears are my love. This pain is my love. This fear is my love. This terror is my love. It’s all love Beloved. It’s all love. I’m not afraid to feel this love. So don’t be scared of me, with me.
This deep dark, some may say wounded place, is my art. It’s my mystery. It’s the depth of where all of these words are born. Every opportunity to go here is a gift from the beloved divine, for how would I create without the tearing of my heart.
When I catch this wave I surf a force of nature into creation. I write with this dark magic.
So thank you Beloved thank you. I need you. I love you.