Meeting my feminine was gentle at first.
Oh, how I’ve missed her.
She was hidden behind past heartbreaking relationships, sad memories of betrayal, and the dishonor of a dysfunctional family life.
I remember the first time—feeling a glimpse of her when I found tantra and practiced the divine of self-love and the inner balance of the feminine and masculine energy.
I found my feminine in a workshop where she threw herself into existence for the art of pleasure and the willingness to be seen and heard.
She exploded into life like a wild woman who had never been heard or touched. I loved her and took her with me everywhere.
Practicing and teaching tantra and creating a massage to allure the soul from being hidden was a magical existence for both of us.
Seeing clients kept her awake and on her tippy toes, but until recently she was still somewhat hidden behind shame and loss.
My feminine was scared to show the real “her” in case she was rejected. She chose relationships with emotionally and physically unavailable partners who were supposed to keep her safe from hurt but never did. She thought she’d be safe because that was like a net, more like a rope really, that would supposedly keep her from giving too much and receiving too little—it never worked.
It was a fantasy and not always the exciting kind. The concept was there, but in reality, she fell deeper into the shadows.
She was afraid to show the real woman who was birthing and growing on the inside.
She is a wild woman who craves to speak her mind and yearns to be touched so deeply, but she fears it would scare off prospective lovers.
She is frightened.
She is a little girl with trauma and denial.
She is a powerful force of nature like a storm, but reluctant to be seen, in case the consequences and the damage are irreparable.
She continually brews in the underground, pretending to be seen, offering glimpses of a love so powerful it could never be returned.
She, who mothers and cares, is still afraid to give everything even to her children for fear they might feel overwhelmed and think she is too much.
That wild, too much woman, that loud and boisterous woman who feels so deeply and maybe too much and not enough at the same time.
She yearns to be loved as deeply as she loves.
She desires to be held, cared for, respected, and worshipped, but she feels as though she is asking for too much.
She does, thinks, feels, and ultimately says way too much.
So she stays in the background like a magnolia bud. The outside world flourishes while she stays hidden. In times of lack, she begins to bloom, but never feels that the world is safe enough for her to fully open. She will be shut down, shushed, and quietened. So she begins to just fit in.
Sometimes, glimpses of her show through, but just enough to not be too much.
Yearning for the day when someone sees her and appreciates her for all the good and tender kindness she has been holding in.
She is afraid of the dark feminine sitting back in the shadows and scratching her way out like a snake with a forked tongue to attack at any sign of injustice. All to protect the little girl who has been afraid to stand alone and shine for herself and her full feminine.
She is so many things.
She is the maiden, the innocent, and the gentle soul feeling everything and learning how to stand up for herself.
She is the mother, nurturer, and protector of her nest.
She is the wild woman who wants to strip naked and dance in the fire.
She is the huntress who is strong, capable, and calls for exactly what she needs and pulls it in toward her.
She is the queen—calm, serene, and confident of her place in the world. She’s vulnerable but strong and secure.
She is the lover. Oh, the lover—she exudes and flows love with every beat of her heart and her womb.
She is blooming.
She is rediscovered.
She is magical.
She is delicious.
She is you.