The Feminine Essence

Friday was a very busy day since I had to prepare all of the al-Iksir vegan goods that I would later that evening sell at a lovely event called Swap. Whenever my work involves kitchen magic, I put on inspiring talks, interviews or music on YouTube and turn on my receptive mode to make the time most enjoyable. I was just past my moon cycles and felt like I needed a feminine balm so I decided to look for my inspiration in Tami Lynn Kent, who guides women to reclaim the wild in themselves.

Most of my day was spent in the »I have to« mode, which is how I was used to get things done.

Not even close to being all set and done, I looked at the time and saw I was running late. »So what’s new,« the inner critic, who wants to live up to my father’s discipline, said. I let her words sting and flooded aimlessly around the flat, being more or less disappointed in myself because I had already predicted I would be late, mad at myself for wasting what I thought was too much time replying the messages on social media (though business-oriented) and anxious because I believed I wouldn’t manage to go hug and kiss Svarun, who was with my parents and my grandmother until after the event. I felt the familiar feeling of being drowned by my own unfinished chores and just as I was getting ready to take my last breath of sanity, I heard the echo of all of the interviews I had listened throughout the day. Immediately I hung myself onto the only arm, reaching out to my rescue from the very core of the Feminine. I resurfaced and hesitantly looked her in the eye.

»How many times did you realize that doing things the hard way was not okay, but you still go on pushing and battling against time and your body like they were the enemies?« I heard the critic again. I didn’t like her reproaching, but she was right. It was almost a year ago that I tiredly asked the Universe: »What must I do in order to be more effective with my work?« Against all of my expectations of being given a strategy, a fool-proof plan, I heard a few simple words: »You must deepen your spiritual practice.« After that I indeed deepened my spiritual practice of yoga and meditation, but solely on days when I didn’t actually have to get things done. Contrarily, on days like Friday I would still skip my morning yoga and meditation to save time and rush to get the real work done. Observant as I am, I would then notice later in the day that I was being distraught and impatient and would swear that I would never skip my peace work again, but when the next time came, I went the same old path. I still doubted that my spiritual practice was of much use in doing my business in real life because I still thought that real things had to be done the hard way, the masculine way. Things like life, raising up a kid, career, anything. I was still residing in my masculine and I did not trust my feminine to show me the way out of the stress and into the feminine essence.

On Friday she reached her hand out to save me from another exhausting day. She might have tried it before, but I didn’t see no hands before – I was too busy stressing out.  On Friday I was ready to see the hand, save myself and confront her. I had to look her in the eye, no matter how mad at me I thought she might be. As soon as our eyes met, though, I felt peace, I felt love, and I felt faith. I knew that she was in fact glad; glad I found my way home.

Such is the feminine essence.


Photo courtesy of Teja Blatnik.

Thank you, my dearest, for being behind the camera and close to the heart.

Dancing Soul

After three days at the Floating Castle festival out in nature, we just got back home to our colourful, clean and cosy home. Svarun has just finished a painting of our car while I’m typing this, not being entirely sure what I ought to speak about tonight because my head is pretty busy right now. I’m full of lively impressions of the music and the dance; I’m full of fluid feelings, being stirred up to the surface by well-known dramatic stories that my mind has been replaying for the past three days; and I’m simply, purely, entirely – full. When a friend asked me this morning whether I wanted some breakfast, it just hit me: “No, I don’t want to put any more information in until most of it goes out of me.” (Food is also information: one that we pass on to our body, about our very relationship towards it.)

How can I be free, if I can’t dance in front of thee?

Whenever I hear the first couple of tones of a gypsy tune, my body is all eager to tell me: “Come on, I need to move. I need to dance and lose myself in the timeless, where my soul dwells.” I love music, I always have. But dance I’ve only come to meet in the last couple of years. I was first drawn to the belly dance, which led to flamenco, and then to shakti dance last year. The need to dance only came to me as I was coming more and more into my body in my twenties. Before that I lived in my mind most of the time, expect when I went to pee or poo or something. Living in the mind, daydreaming and calculating the whole day, you don’t feel the need to move your body in order to express yourself. The body then only starts to serve as a tool to get from A to B, much like an aging vehicle that you have to feed for it to move around.

But when I first lost myself in the music, dancing, I felt very close to the Goddess. The music cocreated this dancing orgasm with me, moving my body up and about and finally letting it be all that it was meant to be: soft, sexy, sultry, daring, powerful, fluid, gentle, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, all at the same time.

The Goddess shone through me, making me a little more free.

Sofia Sundari, a tantrika whose blog I really like to follow, says: “I think every woman should dance, because what happens when she lets go to the music, is so beautiful.” I couldn’t agree more. Agreeing, I can’t skip the sharp pain in my heart. “Then why can’t I dance when I’m not alone?”

When the music calls to me, I remain petrified of what everyone else is going to think about me.

At the end of the day, the only think that’s important is how I think of me. Because what I think, I shall become. I am the only person who can do something about my life. And if I feel the need to dance to the beat of the drum but don’t go, because I am concerned about other people’s opinions of me, I betray my soul. The latter only craves to experience everything it can in order to come to know itself a little more, a little deeper, a little better. It always cultivates hunger for the everything, that each and every one of us hides within.  If we let ourselves be lived out of our soul, we make the world a better place. How do we do that?

We must lose face to find ourselves again. We must lose the shame to experience the bodily sensation that a certain move has in our body, we must lose control to experience an orgasm, and we must become nothing, so we can experience everything that we are. This reminds me of the depth in our relationships, something I’d been thinking over the last few days. The deeper we go, the more we have to lose all of the boxes that we’ve gladly put ourselves into. The closer we get to the essence of who we are, the more masks we give up.

Do I dare to look up now, after he’s seen me in a different light somehow?

I needn’t dare to look up, as I needn’t have put myself down after behaving in a certain way.

The only think that’s important is how I think of me at the end of the day.