Maybe it’s the darkness creeping in this time of year—or the deep personal work I’ve taken up as of late.
I feel a subtle, yet undeniable shift. Inside—and outside.
It’s palpable—heavy and sweet on my tongue. It hurts, it’s utterly joyous. It’s so freakin’ real.
I feel like I’m giving birth to myself.
The sun shines high and mighty in Scorpio, urging me to go deeper, deeper, deeper—and look in all the places I never wanted to look.
So that’s where I’ve been looking.
My body has become my compass—in following her wisdom, she has shown me the light in the form of excruciating shadow memories I needed to face so I can heal. Memories of pain and abuse and all the really tough things I thought I’d dealt with, but never actually did.
It’s hard. But as I drudge this stuff up from the shakiest depths of my heart, I see that there is an entirely new way of being that this healing offers me.
A way of being where I honor myself in a rich, multifaceted way. A way of being where every breath isn’t laced with an apology, but a gentle, genuinely affirming, “Hell yes. Here I am.” A way of being where I am not afraid to take up space or speak my truth or love myself—but where these things are my life, my wishes come true, my destiny.
It’s like learning to live all over again.
And I’m getting to the part I missed the first time—learning to take care of myself. Gently. Sweetly. Fiercely. Patiently.
This becomes my practice. Day in and day out, for the rest of my life.
I marry to it, I give myself over to it.
I cup my hands over my heart and summon all the strength I have and give it— for once, not to someone else—but to myself. For then, only then, can I benefit the world in a truly meaningfully way.
So I dedicate this poem to your goddess heart and mine. If you’re struggling or shining, this is for you. If you’re downtrodden or crumpled, vibrant or covered in tears and utterly exhausted—this is for you.
Because I believe that what makes us goddesses is not in trying to be superwoman, but in being terrifically human.
Vulnerable. Scared. Raw. Uncertain. Ripped wide freakin’ open. Learning from the darkest edges of our mistakes. Filled with tears and joy, overflowing with heart and emotion and healing.
That’s where all the juiciness is—the magic.
Let us deepen our self-care practice and breathe new life into it.
Let us more than care—let us honor ourselves like the (oh-so human) goddesses we truly are.
Did you forget?
That’s what you are.
And I don’t just mean physically.
Our curvy thighs, bombastic butts, luscious lips, wrinkles and cellulite
Are epic and worthy of the loudest praise—
But I mean our souls.
Our passion, our fire, our intuition, softness and courage.
I mean our souls—
The things we dream about, the things we create out of the blistering magic inside us, the things that light us up in a symphony of goosebumps
As dormant cells ignite in our bones and make us come madly alive…
Do those things.
Be that fantastic gushing river of flowing feminine life.
Dance and shake
Let loose until you feel ecstasy rising like waves in your heart
And your troubles melting away like drops of sweat dribbling down your skin.
Feel what it means to be in that luscious body of yours
It’s not perfect, but it’s powerful.
Own, harness and hone that power.
Let the wind whisper wildly through your hair, revealing your entire face—
Let the vibrations of your voice carry through every emerald forest in the entire world
And let the tears spill on every withered lily in the universe.
Hold yourself tight
And let go of everything you don’t need anymore.
You are not perfect, but you are powerful.
Honor yourself, great, wise, suffering, smiling, crying, rising goddess.
To that gushing ruby heart of yours.
It glistens in the sunshine.
So go outside!
Let light seep into your darkest, most broken open places
And transform that crusty, old pain into bouquets of truth-soaked flowers.
Be not at all ashamed
Of any thing you feel.
Because this is for you.
So rest. Recline. Sit still. Pull back.
Give to your own heart.
Do what often feels like the scariest thing in the world—
“I need help.”
Receive it without a trace of guilt.
Open your mouth wide
Never shut it again—
Speak your needs clearly, with a fierce and gentle tongue.
Write out your truth in a tornado fury of fantastic scribbling
And show it to everyone
Or exactly no one,
Except your own heart.
Take the morning off work
Slip into a bubble bath with the most scrumptious bubbles ever
Light at least 10 candles
And stay there for what feels like an amazing eternity.
Find what it means to do nothing but breathe.
Call your best friend
And laugh deep belly laughs for an hour.
Most of all.
You are a woman, a genuine flesh and blood goddess—
So treat your succulent self like one.
The universe itself swells and unfurls inside of you
You are Winter, Autumn, Summer and Spring
All at once.
Every moment of every day.
Being a woman isn’t just a word—
It’s a groundbreaking, pleasurable, glorious and painful experience
Of accessing our innate knowing…
If you’re tired—
If you’re hungry—
If you’re thirsty—
Listen to your body.
Make fiery, passionate love and delight in the feeling of roaring pleasure
As your lover caresses every inch of your glowing masterpiece form
Sing to the sky as you explode into a wild orgasm that shakes every tree.
Be utterly free.
Listen to your body,
She has all the wisdom you ever need.
She is Great Nature herself,
Flowering, constantly growing and grounding
All in absolutely perfect time,
Body, heart, spirit and mind—
As the sensual and wise
You really are.
Because you don’t just deserve
To barely make it through the day
You deserve to be
And glorious wisdom
Sitting in the throne center of your power.
Take amazing care of yourself, dear goddess
And let your entire life
Grow from that.
Mostly because you’re so fantastically human.
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina