June 29, 2017

You have to be Ready for a Woman like Me.

“What you seek is seeking you.” ~ Rumi


“You have to be ready for a woman like me,” she whispers through the warm breeze, tossing her hair as the trees rustle their leaves, daring him to open.

He cannot see her yet, but he senses her, like sweet magnolia blossoms filling the air. He feels the luscious essence of her, as she wafts closer, like curls of sandalwood smoke amidst rambling rivers in a jagged mountain land.

As the universe conspires to bring them together, they both feel it.

The earth rumbles beneath their feet, and they can hear one another’s heartbeats, even if they’re not fully conscious of it yet.

Everything begins to change…

Her loneliness and self-doubt gives way to a flowering empowerment. She begins to claim her power, use her voice, and dance madly in the passionate fires of her own heart. She drops the exhausting weight of being who everyone told her to be—and makes the delicious, earth-shattering decision to be herself.

This is who she has to be to meet him.

And he’s changing, too—rapidly. He’s also becoming more himself. It’s beautiful.

His sadness begins to dissolve, as he peels back the old, armored edges—replaced now with hope and the purity of raw feeling.

“You have to be ready for a woman like me,” she says through the darkness and rain, comforting him from afar in those great, splintering moments of doubt he still feels about fully embodying his heart.

He speaks to her too, like a warm hug, in those brutal moments where she is about to throw away the dreams she so badly thirsts to fulfill.

They appear to each other, when they are most ready—and when they least expect it.

They appear to each other, like lightning bolts in the summer sky, when they have fully committed to the truth and purpose that sings, hot and wild, in their souls.

And so, the winds of change blow, all turquoise and electricity, swirling around them like a fantastic sea.

And he is blown into her life. And she is blown into his life.

Suddenly, she stands in front of him, smiling and peering deep into his eyes, as a gentle breeze dances through her gauzy white skirt.

She is different from anyone he has ever met.

He can smell it on her skin; he can taste it in the way she moves. She feels like magic, like oceans of laughter, like singing naked in the forest. She is pages upon pages of poetry only to be read under the stream of moonlight.

She’s thunder and truth and walking in that truth—no matter what. 

She’s all feeling and vibrance, bowing to the darkest depths to find shimmering pearls of light.

She’s strength and softness at the same time. A freakin’ phoenix, having risen from remarkably painful sh*t, to be standing there, in front of him, today.

He trembles now, having witnessed the potent core of her, uncertain if he is truly ready. But his heart responds, telling him what to do. So, he doesn’t push her aside or run away.

He knows this is special.

So he steps closer, steeping himself in rivers of quiet—and listens. And heals. And feels. His mind is utterly blown, and he bows down, opening to the gushing ruby rivers of his heart.

He’s inspired. The siren sweetness of her femininity alone speaks chapters and volumes. It sings songs in keys he’s never heard.

“You have to be ready for a woman like me,” her hot breath caresses his ear, like the vapor of a poem threaded through time and space, just to meet him in this moment.

The ripe moonshine casts subtle light across the darkness, the world around them goes hazy and seems to glow.

She steps closer now, baring herself completely.

She allows herself to be seen. Scars, freckles, mistakes, fears, broken bits, passion and all—she swirls, writhing with the simple, potent truth of who she is. No games. No bullsh*t. There is just her shining soul and the threadbare, beautiful truth of what she is looking for.

Vulnerability is all she knows how to do—and she does it proudly. Her knees buckle in moments—but that no longer stops her—the ripest authenticity is what she stands for.

He drops his mask in response to her softness. He puts the armor away. He lets himself be seen—every wound and brightness and hope and doubt. She gasps in awe, not judging a single thing.

Tears mist in silence. Exquisite nakedness, even with clothes on, for there is absolute reverence between them.

She is willing to love him—hell, she is made to love him—like no one ever has. 

He is willing to love her—hell, he is made to love her—like no one ever has. 

All pleasantries are dropped. They speak only the pure truth of who they are, why they’re here, what they want, what they desire—no holds barred.

Because this is the love they have been looking for forever—the one they almost gave up on.

They are not looking for the love that skates on the surface and is sort of okay. They do not seek the kind of love that is dull and rational—the kind that can feel more empty than being alone.

They seek soul. Glittering depth. Growth. Transformation. Awakening. Family. Beauty. A true and willing partner.


She longs to share the wildness of intimacy with a willing heart just as brave as her own.

He longs to share the ripe sweetness of intimacy with a willing heart just as brave as his own.

They are on this adventure now, together.

“You have to be ready for a woman like me,” her curves speak, swaying to rhythm of Spanish guitars as she tucks a rose behind her ear and flips her skirt in time to the fiery drums.

She laughs, and the earth moans, then gently erupts in flowers.

He gets to know her bit by bit, and it is like the unfurling of a magnificent story. She is challenging and beautiful and complicated—there is much for him to learn.

She lives in the dripping beauty of her intuition. She roars in quiet beauty, like a moonflower opening at midnight. She takes to the woods to find her voice, trusting her heart, trusting who she is—trusting the great Mother, felt in moss and dirt and leaves beneath her naked toes. She prays to tiny blue wildflowers and Queen Anne’s Lace, and radiates more love with every breath she takes.

And her magic might scare some men—but it doesn’t scare him. He’s intrigued. He’s enchanted. He finds that her presence gently opens him, page by page.

For that’s what love is—isn’t it? The opening of all the closed, tight places inside us. The blooming of the most stubborn buds to luscious life.

Love drips everywhere, especially the spaces we would like to hide and hermetically seal, never to reveal again, not even to ourselves.

Love is the ultimate revealer. The ultimate healer. The ultimate transformer. The ultimate softener.

Love is the thing that takes what seems impossible—nurtures it—and makes it, not only possible, but real.

And these two precious hearts, they are both timid and trembling in moments. But they are brave—so they step even closer now. The fog that once separated them now clears.

The sky burns bright tangerine, as the sun drips down the mountain tops, tinging the blue ridges in purple and deep maroon.

He takes her hand, weaving his fingers through hers—and something happens, a shift they can feel in the tectonic plates beneath the Earth. Space and time re-arrange around them.

He caresses her skin, and it is like a zipper comes down, revealing even more of the beautiful garden of her soul that lurks beneath.

She breathes in his scent, like the ocean, like pine trees.

She is there as his partner. His equal. Not a fixer or caretaker. He is there as the rising king to her rising queen. He is there, not to hold her up—but to simply offer his heart. They are meant to inspire each other, by being exactly themselves.

A sacred union, they can create. Heaven on Earth. Ecstasy in the flesh.

“Soften,” her lips whisper to him, in the moments when he forgets who he is and closes his heart again, choked in silence and thorns.


The words gently find their way inside of him, like the wingbeats of a butterfly.

Will he soften and become the man he always knew he could be? 

Not just for her—but for him, too. So he can know wholeness and peace. So he can love himself. So he can be a force of immense goodness in the world, a gentle warrior—for that is the most potent kind.

“You have to be ready for a woman like me,” her eyes speak, filled with stars and all the mysteries of midnight captured in the seas of her irises, as though melting through him, with a galactic stare.

For she knows now, what she wants—and it is her desire that is so powerful. She feels it shoot up her legs like hot rays of sun, like fire—and it guides her to his arms.

He smiles and takes her hand, placing it on his heart as he looks into the galaxies of her eyes, nodding yes with all the passion of his being to speak of how ready he is.

And then his lips curl higher toward heaven and he says—

“I am.”

With a wild glint in his eye, he says—

“You have to be ready for a man like me.”

And she smiles wider than she ever thought she could, her lips crack like the crescent moon, caught off guard in the best of ways.

She laughs, then exhales.

“I am,” she says, nodding, her eyes misting with tears, her face full of all the stories and heartbreaks and triumphs that led to this moment of her full, uncoiling readiness to be with him.


Her heart blooms like an eager hibiscus.

She has finally met her match.

A man who lives in thunderous truth and the beautiful chaos of constant transformation.

A man who understands a magical woman like her.

A man who is magic, in his own right.

A man who will finally give her all that she deserves.

A man who constantly transmutes darkness to barrel more fiercely toward the light.

A man who knows that being a warrior means having his heart wide open.

A man who knows that





This is the man that awaits her.

There is no other that can speak to the ancient depths of her soul like he does.

There is no other who can evoke such beauty in his kiss.

This is the man who awaits her.

When she fully

Values herself.

When she owns all that she is,

All the gifts that are naturally hers.

This is the love that she truly deserves.

This is the love that he truly deserves.

When he owns all that he is

All the gifts that are naturally his.

When they are ready, they will find each other.

For their lights invite this love like beacons

When they take the risk

To glow brilliantly—

That’s when they will find each other.

And their lives will never be the same.


Author: Sarah Harvey
Image: Ariel Lustre/Unsplash
Editor: Lieselle Davidson
Copy Editor: Leah Sugerman
Social  Editor: Emily Bartran


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