
Medicine of the Real (poem)
What a kindness she showers upon me, not letting me skip any steps, or leave not even one stone unturned.
What a kindness she showers upon me, not letting me skip any steps, or leave not even one stone unturned.
On days like these, cold and rainy, I feel a pull from the deep from the dark, womb of the earth, source of all things.
A recording of the Yogini Circle singing the Tara Mantra in our Yogini Ashram in India, 2018.
I’m only just beginning to learn upon whose backs my life has been built; whose blood has been shed for mine to live; who has been displaced for me to stand where I stand.
Find your ground in love. Real ground.
Through centuries of sunrises and sunsets, there have always been women’s hips. Hips swaying under the stars, dancing to the rhythm of the wind, singing the songs of our ancestors, worshiping the very life they create.