TRIGGER WARNING: sexual abuse.
I was sexually abused at a young age. All through childhood, I felt something was off. I felt something was deeply wrong with me. I must have done something, I must be something, that is fundamentally wrong. For something like that to happen to me, I must be broken.
At the core, we are holy, sacred, divinely innocent beings. We are innocent in our sexuality, our love, our bodies, our souls, our spirits. We know this deeply and fully. When we are subject to abuse or heavy conditioning of any kind (especially at such a young age), something breaks. Our foundation cracks. It leaves us questioning our worth, lovability, safety, belonging, and more.
We feel we are not quite at home in our bodies. We aren’t comfortable being here on earth because the experience of being on earth has been hard. And so we try to escape. We fly off into the ethers of the spirit world. We rise into our heads, become obsessed with the intellect. We worship the mind and shun the body.
Or we might become self destructive. Addiction, self-harm, eating disorders, and any other forms of self-abuse. We are attempting to repeat the pattern in order to liberate it. Our world gets smaller and smaller. We limit the pleasure, bliss, joy we allow ourselves to feel. We freeze sexually, sensually, creatively. We stop trusting ourselves. We feel depressed, anxious, frustrated, with no clear reason why.
We may become obsessed with the needs of others, with work, with perfection. We try to busy ourselves with anything and everything just so we don’t have to feel. And still, that original fissure in our foundation is lurking underneath, ready to split our home apart any moment. On some level, we know it. We’re terrified.
Perhaps you are one of the lucky ones who escaped any kind of abuse at a young age. Perhaps you still see yourself in this description. The truth is, we are living in stressful times. Growing up, we likely received persistent messages that something is wrong with us. Heavy conditioning of shame, guilt, and fear can have the same effects (if not greater) than physical, emotional, or sexual abuse.
We’re also living through a massive paradigm collapse. An old world is dying. The new one is yet to be born. The new is being born through us.
For a long time, I did not want to be in my body. I escaped into the spirit world. I gained weight, overate, ignored my body’s needs altogether. I ignored my sensual delights. I made my sex, my love, my desires wrong. I chose cultures, lovers, and a life that supported my belief that I was broken beyond repair. I was on autopilot. I didn’t feel like I had choices about where my life was going or what I was experiencing.
Eventually, by some force of grace, something broke. Something inside of me knew this wasn’t the life I was meant to live. Some deep, ancient, humming wisdom started to rise like a snake. She began uncoiling to claim her crown.
For a few thousand years, the masculine spiritualities have dominated. These traditions worship sky gods, the intellect. They exalt transcendence of ego, body, earth, etc. They celebrate purity, cleansing, and light. I see nothing wrong with celebrating clarity, alignment, light, the sky, and the worthy servant of the mind. But it’s only one half of the pie.
The other half of the pie is consciousness incarnated. It is the feminine. It is full embodiment. It is the five senses tingling with pleasure, presence, bliss. It is the ecstasy we find when we surrender to the wild mystery. The feminine moves us from the head to the heart, from the head to the pussy. It sanctifies the whole glorious mess of being human, no part exiled.
This has nothing to do with man or woman. All sexes have access to BOTH masculine and feminine. It’s the weaving of the two that informs our unique path on the journey.
I believe in the healing path of embodiment, in all its messy, horrible, easeful, blissful glory. I believe in the tender, sometimes quiet homecoming. The slow articulation of the spine, the pussy, the crown. I believe in the power of feeling every square inch of your flesh.
I believe in the holy entering through my consciousness. Becoming aware of every muscle in my pelvis, my heart, my throat. I believe in the light of God, as me, pouring through my consciousness, as me, to soak my wounds in honey love. This kind of healing doesn’t come through transcendence, through denial of animal needs, through purity. This kind of healing comes with the messy beautiful dance of becoming the love you seek.
And sometimes, you look back to try and find that crack in your foundation someone gave you decades ago, and you can’t find it. A garden has sprouted from the rotting. A garden that nourishes you every day of your life. A garden to hold your body softly while you cry, laugh, make love, or sleep. A garden of your own making. A garden tended by yourself and others. A garden with so much beauty, it’s spilling over the gate. It’s begging to be shared.
I want to tell you that this is possible for you. You, who believe yourself to be broken or defunct. You who think oceanic love and bliss is for someone else, convinced yourself you don’t really want that anyway. I want to tell you it’s ok to want joy, to want healing, to want love. It’s ok to believe in gardens and peace and holy orgasmic churches.
I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m all healed. That I never feel that deep wound, the questioning if I’m fundamentally ok. I do. The difference now, is I have a choice. And when I feel myself gripped by the feelings of brokenness, swirling in terror or sadness or numbness; it doesn’t last long. I smell the roses in the yard. Something deep in my body rises to remind me: we are not just the broken, rotting parts. We are the whole garden. I have a choice. My baseline can be bliss. The wound is still there, but I’ve learned how to make it into compost, food for this glorious garden. And I worship the compost, the rot, my glorious wound that has gifted me the deepest nourishment.
And so, my garden is overflowing. I want to share. I want to see more gardens in full bloom. My garden thrives if I am surrounded by other thriving gardens! My bliss is fed by yours. We are not islands. We are an ecosystem. I want to see you in full bloom.
Join me for Oceanic Bliss to learn an easeful, playful, delicious path to healing and blooming. It doesn’t have to be hard. I’ve spend decades researching countless tools so you don’t have to. I’ve curated a collection of tools that are effective, accessible, and fuuuun. I hope to be blooming with you soon.
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