Within every cell of my being, I know we are at time in our world where women both need to and are being called to wake up to, step into, and take full responsibility for the power and potential we hold within our bodies. That we are being beckoned by a potent Mother Love, to touch our flesh and feel the pulse of creation, the pulse of Her, moving through every tissue, nerve ending, cell, and fractal of our being. We can no longer deny and ignore our power and potential, for this self-denial and turning away stultifies our creative and sensing capacities, impoverishes life, blocks Eros, and is showing up in ways that are very evident in our world right now. 

We are being asked to descend, from pituitary gland to perineum, into our anatomy, into the seen and unseen aspects of our Being, into our tissues, fluids, and the energetic matrix of the Divine Feminine. Into our liveliness, our innate bliss.

Petals is an invitation to come back home to the divine nature of your anatomical expression, reclaim your innate safety and sensuality, and experience yourself, your heart, your tissue, and your entire body in loving totality. It is an embodied and relational exploration, dropping into our own hearts and leaning into the collective heart field of the group.

Too many of us are afraid to touch ourselves, unsure on what’s going on down there, carry traces and imprints of sensual harm or numbness, only associate our vulvas with sex, are blocked at the root and sacral chakras. When a woman brings her hands to her own body with reverence, she touches the bodies of all women in her lifeline, connecting to the greater thread of all women across time and space. It is where softening begins, embodiment deepens, and new neural networks are cultivated. As we touch our tissue, breathe into our touch, and feel our anatomy breathing into our fingertips, we foster new sensory and proprioceptive pathways; we forage new experiences for our body and our being, opening up our range of feeling, expressing, loving, and creating.

Breath by breath, we slowly meet the layers of armor. When we get distracted or space out or frustrated or project a fantasy onto someone, we lovingly notice and guide ourselves back to our breath, back to the sensory receptors in our body - What is our tissue saying? What is your vulva asking for? Have you ever felt yourself this way before? What are your fingers hearing? What happens if we focus on nothing else but the quality of sensation under our fingers - whether nonexistent, burning, subtle, or cold? Can we touch ourselves unlike we've ever touched ourselves before? Can we breathe into our pelvis unlike ever before? Can we work with our pelvis to support it in coming back centered into alignment?

We aren’t meant to (and truly, cannot) do this work alone. We aren’t meant to do this hidden in the showers or our beds right before we fall asleep. We aren’t meant to carry the bigness, the grief, the love, the confusion, the shame alone. We aren’t supposed to associate our cervix solely with the gynecologist, HPV, or the thing that moves when a baby is born.

It starts here, with us. With presence, our own hands, and our own hearts.