We stepped back.

We stepped back to align with our own sacredness. To rediscover our vows, our dignity, our attributes and purpose. Source. To reawaken the inner strength and an ability to endure death and pregnancy and birth, the most violent human cycles, within our cells, bodies and energetic field.

A sacredness that was overfilling with masculinity. We forgot our songs of creation. We forgot about receptivity and what it means to hold space. We became impatient and productive, perhaps fitting the times of speeding up time to get a thousand things done in an hour. Perhaps overpowered by our ability to see things coming, to see into and beyond, because there was a time when we were honored for that ability. Considered sacred. Protected and respected. Listened to. Sought for advice. When Kings and Chiefs would take no action until they had asked first the Woman.

The unbalance came though, and men burned instead women, tried to demonize her wisdom and power and built churches on her breathing spaces. But the old ways and the magic hid in the landscape, it retired into rocks, the wind and the seeds that would be trees.

Now patience and calm got confused with passive aggression, overruling the natural states in our eager to bring back the balance. Withdrawing a while, left on our own, we gathered in tribes of softness, healing each other, support and encouragement undisturbed by our masculine powers. Just coming back into our own.

Turning our attention to sacred feminine. The voice of Nature. Slow turning of the seasons. The grass growing all by itself, from green to withered from a Sun burning overtime to brightly, sharply illuminate exactly that. Back to wombing and cocooning, the ancient original strength. Holding. Nurturing the seeds of time and space, birthing events upon the right time. Understanding the need for cyclical phases to provide exactly the right amount of light or darkness through the waning, waxing and even eclipsing times. So delicate, so needed until the flower opens and reveals her perfume and beauty.

I remembered to be a Woman this Summer. To remain cool within while the Sun burned my skin and bleached my hair. The burning heat of his coming forth making visible the moist underneath the dry land, revealing the sacredness of Circles.

I learned to hold my phases. I learned to weave my own thread of purpose. Remembering and honoring that my cycles are much more intense than His.

I was reminded that I invoked, prayed for, asked for, ignited and initiated all of this myself. From the depth of my Heart I wanted this to happen. I blessed this season myself.

The Earth, I am walking in this transition time that holds me, wombs and carries me, nurtures and sustains me, is singing again. I know Her tune, so I sing along. It is the familiar song of creation. I sing to reawaken the standing Rocks, their sound and vision. I lean my forehead to them and ask of them to imprint on me their stories and wisdom, hoping it will reveal itself to me eventually, perhaps in dreaming. I sing for the Sacred masculine coming into his own as well, as we stepped back, he stepped forth.

The time is getting ripe for sacred union. The flower is unfolding.

We stepped back. It had many purposes of balance. But we also learned to truly find our own.