Yesterday evening after I came home from Monday night Women’s Temple my love asked me, tell me, how is it to be you?
Like moss, like warm velvet. Infinite. Still and held. Not in any way airy, it is full. Full of dark softness. And no impulse, what so ever, to do, anything.
This is my inner state. Right now. I know it well, it is the post-shaktiblast-swamp.
Four times a year I pack my gypsy bags and head out for a month long pilgrimage to the European Yogini circles.
After a few days of paying homage to my mother in Norway I practice and teach pretty much non stop. Expanding and expanding, allowing for bigger and brighter energies to flow through my body, this is my path. Embodied spirituality.
With the expansion comes the contraction, and it is in the dance as this pulsation She shows me bliss.
I came home a week ago, and today as the rain is throwing its icy tears at the windows, and the fire is burning hot and holy inside, I curl up in a corner, and I lean in.