Woman Knows.


Within each woman are fierce instincts of survival.  Instincts that will save her or destroy her.   And unless she finds her way through the sleepy, burdensome normalcy of mundane living, this instinct falls dormant and slowly, but certainly, she dies.

But first, she struggles.  She buys red shoes and paints her lips.  She drinks too much wine, lets her hair grow long and unkempt, reveals more skin, or runs off with the plumber or pub-house drummer.  

At first her eyes roll back in ecstasy... and she moans in delight...  but in time, her eyes squeeze shut in denial, and her moans turn to whimpers of soul abandonment.

Wounded and lost, exhausted and abused,
we sometimes cannot even see when we have
abandoned our own instinct

Sometimes we cannot even see that we are in a downward spiral that takes us only to one place :: the burial ground of our soul.  This deadening leads to addiction, compulsion, desperation, and rage... 

Now, before you get caught up in how "morbid" this all sounds -- let it be known, that many of us smile and keep'on'a'truckin' in this state... We have adapted well, to continue to be productive, incarnate, and relatively functional.  

But, perhaps, "dis-ease" then rises... as an instinct.  An instinct that lives within every breathing, living creature that speaks just three words: 


And THEN, we cannot help but listen.  They body tells us so.  For there is no indulgence, nor excess that can bring back the instinctive nature that lives in all women and bring her back to life.  

She must go home now  
She must return to her soul or die 

She must dance in the presence of her sisters, speak slowly and truthfully, with eyes open, gazing across the fire into the souls of others who have been wounded, baited, or trapped.  She must place her hands on her belly, bow her once rolled back head, and breathe with the eternal waters, refusing to normalize what has become of her life, and instead, birth herself new feet, new hands, new eyes.    

It takes so very little to release us
wise us up
dance our souls back to life 

For, there is a resting place, a halfway point, a sandbar to catch our breath again. And it is from this place is where you find your way back to the feral instinct of grace and guts and vitality and integrity.

But the road is not what you think.  It is never what we think.  It isn't running naked, swimming with seals, or hula-hooping in rings of fire.   It isn't years of therapy or past-life regression therapy or that cleanse, and it isn't necessarily leaving, or quitting, or moving.  

The path to soul renewal has structure. containment.  safety.  It is a gentle awakening, a cautious turning of the door knob and slowly peeking inside the room of your own heart, once again, and then breath by breath, stepping in . . .  Stepping into the fertility of woman's spirit, gradually, without force . . . leaving denial and naivety behind and entering a protective space of structure and ethic, universal intelligence, nature's balance, and the ultimate soul awakening.  

This is what I do, Dear Ones.  I create and hold this sort of containment.  I offer retreats (early registration ends tomorrow), privates, and online course work.  If you are ready, you'll know it.  If you are called, COME.