Single Blog

Some blogs seem to write themselves. The words flow out of me in just the right order with effortless ease. I love it when that happens.

This is not one of those blogs. The ideas have been swirling around inside me for weeks. I get glimpses of words, phrases and images that don’t make sense and seem completely unrelated. To be completely honest, I’m still not sure how to put them together. But I know I need to try. The energy underneath feels powerful and transformative. And desperately needed right now.

I am making huge, profound changes in my life. Parts of me are dying off to make room for more of who I am to emerge. So it is with anyone who undertakes the work of self-evolution. As I process through the shifting sands, I have felt a massive disconnect from an essential, fundamental piece of myself. It’s been there niggling in the back of my brain, like a word that is on the tip of my tongue that I can’t quite recall. I have not been able to name it, let alone articulate it.

Until recently.

What I have been achingly, fiercely missing is my connection to my feminine essence. And as I feel into the collective energy of my clients, and really women all over, they are missing it too.

We have had to adapt as women to being in our masculine energy most of the time. Doing. Deciding. Focusing. Planning. Making things happen. And it’s killing us. We are exhausted from the weight of all we have to carry. We are drained and depleted by the running list we keep in our heads of everything that needs to be done, taken care of and handled.

Most of us are pissed as hell. We may not show it, or even acknowledge it. But its there, that coiled snake of rage at the base of our spines.

Why are we so angry? Because we are not meant to show up this way. At least not all the time. It’s not how we are built.

I don’t want to be an empowered bad- ass #girlboss 24/7. I don’t want to go out into the world kicking ass and taking names every day. I’m tired of wearing energetic shoulder pads.

I don’t want my obituary to read, ” Candace was purposeful, competent and steady. She was known for her amazing self-sacrifice and strong independence. She got shit done”

I know I am strong. Fierce. Steely. And so is everyone single woman I know, and even those that I don’t.

But right now, I want to soften the hard edges of my heart, to smooth out the prickly cactus of my energy field.

I yearn to be inviting. Surrendered. Relaxed. Open. Ravished by the fullness of life and love in all its forms. I don’t want to lean into a damn thing unless it’s in service to my Divine Feminine. My emotions. My pleasure. My body. My deepest desires.

Fluid. Flowing. Melting. Receiving. Radiant. Flushed. Gestating. Birthing. Swaying. Twirling. Spinning drunkenly into the wild, unpredictable, uneven, unbalanced. In complete abandon rich with color, texture and depth.

I want to remember that I can surprise and delight myself. To inspire and be inspired. To have the juice of my essence running down my chin and dripping off my fingers. To be fertile, pregnant with creativity. Fully embodied.

My deepest desire is to come home to myself. Maybe its yours too.

How do we start? By recognizing how estranged we are from this beautiful part of ourselves. By letting ourselves feel the longing. By moving our bodies in ways that liberate us instead of punishing us. By turning every day tasks into sensory experiences.

We are not going to eat a meal to check if off the list. We are going to lovingly prepare it. We are going to smell the aromas. We are going to arrange it on the plate as art and see how lovely it looks. We are going to taste each nuanced flavor. We are going to hear ourselves say “MMMMMM, this is delicious.” We are going to make our pleasure a priority and not a side note.

This is how we will start reclaiming ourselves. It’s long overdue. We have paid such a high price for the splintering off. The world needs you to be in your radiant feminine essence. Come home to yourself, ladies. Come home.