Is There a Gender War?

To be honest, I used to think the patriarchy was too political or "3-D" for me to want to talk about.

It felt like part of a matrix-level, dualistic mindset—and that naming it was, in some way, consenting to it.

What resonates with me now is this:

You’re not in the matrix when you’re analyzing its systems.
You’re in the matrix when you’ve made them your God,
When you're unaware of them,
or when you're not deconstructing those systems within yourself.

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First, I want to bridge the awareness piece with what’s happening on a spiritual level.

I’m noticing an ever-intensifying friction between the feminine and the masculine.

Why is it happening?

Because the feminine has, in many ways, surpassed the masculine in terms of spiritual, emotional, and material independence.

From a higher-dimensional perspective, this imbalance was inevitable and orchestrated — though it has come with great pain to the genders globally.

Now, the feminine is rising.
And the masculine is about to rise next.

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What do I mean by “rise”?

I mean: get back up after a long period of suffering.

The integrated feminine is calling the masculine into his integration.

This has actually happened many times throughout linear and quantum history.

I know because we have several archetypal myths that tell the same story:

• Isis resurrected Osiris.
• Mary Magdalene resurrected Yeshua.
• Inanna and Persephone resurrected themselves.

The reconstitution of Osiris is the story of the feminine (Isis) bringing divine memory back to the masculine, piece by piece.

Inanna’s descent is the story of her bringing her own memory back, piece by piece.

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The masculine is a healer,
but when he and the feminine are both wounded,
one of them has to heal first.

It will always be the feminine.
Why?
Because she’s the one with the ability to regenerate and internally alchemize.

We see this in the architecture of creation—the universe emerging from the dark, creative potential of the Void.
That Void is the Womb of the Divine Mother, and its code is repeated in the feminine current.

The divine feminine is the medicine of resurrection.

⸻

In some way, I’m talking about human genders and the trends we see occurring with them —
but on a more profound level, I’m not.

I’m talking about the inner polarity within everyone,
and the healing process it’s undergoing.

⸻

So now, what does this have to do with patriarchy?

Patriarchy is both contrast and catalyst to this process.

I don’t talk about patriarchy because I'm angry or feel like a victim to it.

I talk about patriarchy so I can help it finish its job:
Showing us who we are not, so we can remember who we are.

We are the unified balance of divine masculine and divine feminine.

—a reality that expands far beyond the 3-D.

The Conditional Permission of ‘Natural Beauty’

What does natural beauty really mean—and who decides?

My last post struck a chord around anti-makeup 'advocacy'.

I had an exchange in the comments
that made me realize there’s a shadow here
worth naming more clearly.

First, to be clear —
this isn’t a judgment on preference.
Everyone is entitled to that.

I’m talking about when advocacy for women’s freedom
starts and stops with women’s appearance.

Because “you don’t have to wear makeup”
can sound like support —
while also conveniently aligning with a visual preference.

Re-centering the very gaze
it claims to liberate us from.

The conditional permission is:

be natural
be effortless
be untouched

But still —
be desirable.

In that way, “natural beauty”
becomes another purity standard.

We’re not freer to be authentic —
we’re being guided toward a narrower version of what that means.

And what's interesting is that this kind of “advocacy” shows up in one of the areas where women already tend to have a high degree of agency.

Meanwhile, there are other areas
where that agency is far more contested.

I'm naming that contrast.

Because it's easier to endorse a 'natural face' than it is to confront institutional patriarchy.

A collective of women have been crying out for men to stand up for us where it actually matters.

I don’t want the optics of freedom.

I want men to stand for it even when the optics don’t appeal to them.

Makeup & Male-Centered Politics

“I like women natural — no makeup, no nails, nothing.”

Two weeks into talking, he sent this in a text
as if it were a gift I didn’t ask for.

Succinctly, I was triggered.

I’ve noticed this pattern before.

Men often make a point of telling me they prefer women “natural” —
somehow after being drawn to me
while I’m presenting exactly the opposite.

Truly, if that’s your preference…
what are you doing here?

Without exaggeration, there are at least fifteen reasons I keep my nails done.

I’d list them if they were anyone’s business but mine.

But I’ll say this —
male approval is not one of them.

I’m tired of the covert patriarchy in dating.

Especially where it persists in the spiritual community.

Stating a preference to someone who clearly doesn’t match it is a subtle attempt at control.

When a man says this to a woman,
that’s the patriarchal sprout.

The stem is entitlement.

The root is the belief
that a woman’s appearance is inherently performative —
and meant for a male audience.

At this point, I get it.

Most men — especially spiritual men —
want the type of goddess
with soil under her nails
and twigs in her hair.

She’s beautiful.

But that’s not my archetype.

Funny enough,
that woman loves my nails.

She loves when I turn my face into a canvas —
The shadows, colors, and metallics
I use to shape-shift.

For the men who don’t like makeup,
maybe you just didn’t grow up playing with Barbies or pretending to be princesses.

And for the subset who see makeup as deception,
maybe you just weren’t given the experiential vocabulary to see it as art.

The contrast shows me something about myself:

I love things that delight
and resonate with other women.

Beauty rituals.

Creative expression.

Women affirming other women.

These are the gifts of my feminine embodiment.

And representing them
is the only “natural” that matters to me.

Beyond Accountability

I’m noticing ‘accountability’ is a big word in the collective right now. Particularly, Tyra Banks and the ANTM documentary have me contemplating my satisfaction with the term.

This is where I’m at: Accountability isn’t easy.
But it’s still easier than the ego death required to make it genuine.

A person can recognize that they’ve hurt someone. They can own it, even at the expense of their pride. That moment often produces the social catharsis we call accountability.

But after a public atonement, my question is always:
Did the person actually integrate something?
Or were other people simply placated?

Harm is information.
It’s data.

Not just about what happened—
but about the inner system that made it possible.

Harm occurs when something you believe about yourself leads to an action that exposes the limits of that belief.

Transmutation begins when someone can say:

Something I believe about myself is not inherently true, and it doesn’t serve me.

That’s ego death.
That’s when a piece of someone’s self-illusion shatters.

That work goes far deeper than accountability.

Without shadow work, accountability can become another spectacle. And without this understanding, even the act of holding people accountable can become a spectacle too.

We can change how we show up.

But I’m far more interested in the moment when someone changes who they think they are.

Love Addiction and Shadow Work

There is a lot of upheaval in the collective right now — a lot of looking at the “darkness” out there.

I just released a YouTube video that I've been working on for a while. To be honest, I doubted whether the subject even matters right now, given the scale of what's being exposed.

Then I reasoned that it's highly relevant to speak about the internal shadow when the world is focused on the external one.

So, this is my story of love addiction, numbness, and the process of reclaiming myself.

Over the last few years, I’ve been unraveling my sexual shadow.

What happens when being objectified, commodified, or fetishized is what some part of us wants?

Not in a conscious, kinky way.
In an unconscious way — the kind that invites experiences that don’t actually feel good.

For me, it validated something.

The parts of us carrying wounded narratives still want to be met in resonance.

Because they are witnessed there.

Those who gained from my shame also came closer to it than anyone ever did.

Whenever I was consumed, I was held first.

To be useful was to have purpose.
To be used was to have meaning.

Yes, it hurt. That’s the point.

To her — when it hurts, everything is as it should be.
If only that contentment would last.
If only she didn’t need to be shown again and again that she was wanted.

Eventually, enough is enough.
Eventually, I stopped handing over my darkness and went inward to meet her myself.

And something changed.

When you descend into your own underworld, you strip away layers.
By the time you meet her, she’s no longer who she thought she was.

Because you aren’t either.

It’s one thing to be validated.
It’s another thing to be remembered.

Reclaiming the Virginhood of the Magdalene

The Church has long required a woman’s holiness to be conditional. It is not.

Over time, the word virgin referred to anyone who has never had sex. But historically, it applied almost exclusively to girls and women. Why?

Because the category itself became a mechanism of control.

In earlier lineages, the term often translated as 'virgin' pointed to a woman's sovereignty rather than her sexual history. It described a woman who was unmarried, legally independent or otherwise whole unto herself.
Temple priestesses were called virgins not because they were physically untouched— but because their authority did not derive from a man.

As Marian devotion spread, the archetype of Mother Mary rose in prominence. Her holiness was undeniable.

And a threat to the patriarchal order.

Therefore, purity was redefined. No longer sovereignty—now a bodily condition.

The implication was subtle but powerful: a woman’s value could be altered by a man’s touch.

Alongside this, Mary Magdalene was gradually recast as a sex worker—a distortion not found in the earliest texts, but one that endured. The message embedded in the cultural psyche was clear:

You are either the Madonna or the “whore”.
Sacred or fallen.
Defined in relation to what has or hasn't happened to your body.

Even now, though partnership isn't always heteronormative, the imprint remains. Many people still carry inherited programs that disconnect them from bodily authority and attach shame to their sexuality.

The reclamation is this:

The feminine can be touched and sovereign.
Devoted and embodied.
Erotic and holy.

There is no contradiction.

This is the restoration work of the Magdalene current.

When the “Father” Falls

The collapse of trust—and illusion—in all manner of governing forces.
The pillars of structure, support, stability, and safety.

We are watching the rupture of the collective father wound.

What comes next—Peace? Order?
Eventually.
But before that—a cultural power vacuum.

When people who have externalized their power try to rebel before actually reclaiming it—and yes, there’s a difference—they don’t take their power back.
They often simply relocate it.

The system that enabled Epstein was (and is) a cult by another name.

• Power consolidated through conscious and unconscious agreements.
• An in-group of belonging.
• Implicit protection.
• Access and gratification as currency.

Cults can be political, spiritual, or interest-based.

But what they all do is fill a gap where someone feels they've been abandoned.

I say this because even now, as so much is being exposed, we have the potential to recreate those same conditions closer to home.

Systems are falling. Identities are destabilizing. Egos are searching for security.

The seeds for exploitation are already being planted—within our communities, where our voices matter most.

Yes, we need love and community now more than ever. I just won’t abandon myself for what merely looks like it.

The more I understand my own alignment, the less I concede to someone not living in theirs.

Are you self-governed?
And if so—what part of the self is in charge?

The Burden of Boundaries

A man without his own sexual boundaries cannot safely contain anyone else’s.

I’ve met this man time and again.

When you say no to him, no is no.

But every yes from you is a yes from him.

Your boundaries are respected, but your lenience is immediately rewarded.

Your hesitation is accepted, but never met.

His lack of containment becomes your responsibility. All the labor of pacing, discernment, and risk assessment is yours to bear.

Say something happens that you later regret.

He’s blameless. The “nice guy.” And yet, he becomes a symbol of something you were violated by.

Not a person—but the pressure of attraction, context, social norms, or attachment wounds.

That yes wasn’t born of embodied desire—it was a grunt under the weight of what you carried alone.

I don’t just respect a man’s discipline.

I need it to unburden me.

For anyone dating men, I recommend asking these questions early on:

• What is your ideal pace regarding physical intimacy?

• What conditions must be present for you to choose to be physically intimate with someone?

If his answers are akin to “vibes,” it suggests there’s no internal ground—he’ll move as far as the situation allows. This is not a boundary.

But I don’t just want to talk about men showing discipline for their partner’s sake.

I want to know: Why is it less commonly upheld for themselves?

How often is it a self-worth issue that goes unwitnessed?

Women’s relationship to their bodies is constantly framed through self-worth—but what about men?

The sexually unbridled man is often chalked up to biology—when there might be real conversations about pain, vulnerability, and conditioning that get lost in the idea that “men are just men.”

To be honest, I sense that society treats male bodies like cattle—just in ways that are more covertly justified.

So my question is this: When a man doesn't have intimate boundaries, is it because he was taught that his body doesn’t matter?

Growing Pains in Spiritual Dating

Spiritual dating has been a whole new terrain—full of lessons, tests, and ego traps. Here’s a story about the most recent time I fell into one:

I briefly dated a man who checked almost every box. But some of my deepest values—sacred sexuality, inner union, and devotion—were not cultivated aspects of his spiritual path.

I felt confused, torn between two anxieties. One where I let him go and lose a gift. Another where I play it out and erode my standards.

In hindsight, my confusion was all the clarity I needed. My body was dysregulated. My ego, meanwhile, was scrambling for a narrative to make sense of things—in my head.

Then I heard something along the lines of:

"A divine woman does not teach her partner. They either rise to meet her or they don’t, in response to her embodiment."

I believe this points to a sound awareness— that feminine energy is transmutational through being, rather than doing.

But what I understood was:

'My frequency can harmonize the discord in our values. And while I’m not his teacher, I can be his energetic compass.'

In other words, I shifted the labor of discernment onto steadfastness.

Perhaps you’ve heard a version of this in polarity dating: "The masculine leads materially. The feminine leads spiritually."

From where I'm at now, I would add two caveats:

1. No one leads anyone anywhere they aren’t already headed.

2. Feminine energy is not a rehab for misalignment.

I’ve seen people change in relationships—but only when they are chosen as they are, not for what they might learn or integrate.

And sometimes, the most embodied thing a feminine can do

is choose herself.

On Sovereignty, Regulation & “Love and Light”

I’ve been waking up these past few mornings wondering where my intellectual and spiritual boundaries are when it comes to mass pain.

Where do I exist on the stage? And what role, if any, can I assume from it?

I can see where I’m being coaxed outside of my body. Where polarity begins to look like a foothold, even as its foundation is being shaken by events outside of my control.

This is where I choose regulation.

Not as withdrawal, but as positioning — so I can move with discernment.

Because I won’t give away my power while others are having theirs ripped away without a choice.

I know some people call this spiritual bypassing.

The way I see it, spiritual bypassing is when something in your personal experience requires resolution and you co-opt a spiritual teaching to ignore it.

Bypassing relieves you of emotional labor.

What I’m doing is noticing what work is within reach.

Some say “love thy enemy.” I’ll attest that doing so without conscious, aligned action can lead to harm or prevent real change.

But as I love myself and choose sovereignty, divine love shows up with a much greater reach and bigger hands.

“Love and light” became a pejorative at some point in a world that forgot what they are — and what they can do.

If there’s one thing 𝘐 can do, it’s to remind myself every day where my power lives — and what love and light truly are when they’re embodied.

Why I Deleted My First YouTube Video

This month, I’ve been working on a follow-up to my first YouTube video. This one will deep dive into my history with mental health, the ways I self-regulated, and what I’ve made from all of it. As I’ve been re-processing this narrative, I realized why my gut constricts when I try to stand behind its predecessor.

My first video was confronting, hard-lined, and sharp. I spent its launch braced for impact. Meanwhile, I wasn’t putting myself on the line—I was hiding behind it.

When I wrote that first script six months ago, I was parsing out what it means to speak with authority.

Today, I realized I haven’t been making a follow-up video. I’ve been reorienting where I want my voice to come from.

To be sovereign doesn’t just mean to be self-governed. It means knowing what part of you is leading you.

Before, I thought bravery meant standing in the most absolute version of your truth and being ready for backlash. While that is brave, it’s not the only form of it—and there’s another form I’m challenging myself with.

There’s a space where it’s safer to be polarizing. When you’re polarizing, you’re putting yourself behind an army. Even if your view is unpopular, you’re still protected by the army of your ego.

There’s a space where it’s safer to do the triggering. You’re the one in control. No one has to see you fall to your hands and knees—even if you have.

There’s a space where it’s safer to put yourself on a pedestal. You become easier to see and harder to access.

But to show up in the embodiment of my lived experience—without the guardrails of ideology—exposes me. Because this is where my heart lives, unobstructed.

I took down my first YouTube video because I took down my walls. My truth is still alive, but it’s standing in a different place now.

I choose to be led from here.

From love.

The Self-Imposed Matrix of Lateral Freedom

I find that the ‘illusion of choice’ goes deeper than people usually think. It’s a factor that I’ve been subjected to most prominently in terms of modern dating.

Today, I’m ready to break it down, not as a system of governmental control, but as a philosophically, self-limiting mindset.

The thing is, when we say we want freedom, (in our relationships, living situations, projects, work) what we’re often seeking is really anxiety regulation.

That’s because there are two dimensions of freedom: Lateral freedom & Vertical freedom.

Lateral freedom is autonomy within a static level of experience. It’s decorated in options, novelty and escape while limiting access to higher levels of being. With lateral freedom, you claim territory without actually crossing any thresholds.

It’s self-determination that ultimately leaves you—and your circumstances—unchanged.

People who avoid commitment are usually attached to some idea of lateral freedom.

This is sometimes spiritualized as non-attachment.

But when your options stay open, they also remain unsubstantiated.

Eventually at the cost of depth or other things that make choices meaningful.

This is how the seekers end up feeling lost, purposeless, or unsatisfied.

Vertical freedom, however, is expansion.

It introduces entirely new levels of experience, along with the capacity to sustain them.

But it requires discipline, containment, and courage. Yes—courage,

Because the threshold guardian of your vertical potential is your own fear.

Fear is the only thing holding up the illusion that we can be trapped by any condition outside of us.

Trust, if you are reading this, you are already free.

So the question isn’t whether you want freedom. The question is: Do you want to be free—or limitless?

Body Wisdom

Spirit: Your clairs (psychic abilities, clairvoyance, etc.) are related to your intuition, but they are not a substitute for your body.
Engaging your clairs will make them stronger, but it will also open you up to energies that will attack your sovereignty if you are not embodied.

Embodiment means holding your relationship to your body as first and foremost.

If you hear Spirit—that’s beautiful—but that voice is fallible.
Your body is never wrong.
It can be hard to hear, but it’s never wrong.

That’s why, sometimes, if you are trying to open your clairs, your Higher Self will block this until you learn to trust your body.

Your body doesn’t speak in language the way your mind does.
Your body speaks in feeling.
Your mind makes an interpretation of the feeling—and this part is also fallible.
Particularly if you have not learned to trust your body, your mind can interpret its signals in ways that misalign.

Important: The mind is not the enemy—it is how we process and act on what the body is telling us. We often cannot make a decision without the mind. But the body must speak first. The mind’s story should inform your choices, not overwrite the signal your body is giving you.

It must be simple:

• This feels good in my body.

• This does not.

It’s the mind that comes in after and adds a story. That story can sometimes distort the body’s original message.

For example:

“I’m feeling anxious in this connection. This could be my wounded inner child showing up, afraid of getting hurt again.”

Your mind may offer explanations, narratives, or fears—but the decision you make should come after clarifying what your body truly feels. The mind allows action; the body provides guidance.

Me: But sometimes something doesn’t feel good because it’s making us stronger—you know, like we’re being challenged in some way. Sometimes discomfort is our growth edge.

Spirit: When that is the case, the discomfort, the challenge, the pain is actually coming from the mind—not the body.

Exercise your body, physically.
But it is already a perfect machine as the source of your intuition.
We send you tests to challenge your ego.
But your body—we built that.

Spirit: Grounding tools are not necessarily embodiment tools.
You can be barefoot in nature and still be disembodied.
Your relationship with Gaia is also not a substitute for your relationship with your body.

You are of Earth.
And you are of Spirit.
But a relationship with either of these things, without trust, love, and communication with the body, will be strained.
The mind—who attempts to manage and make meaning of these relationships—will eventually collapse.

This is why some people turn to organized religion after what they call “New Age.”
It gives the ego a structure that it lost.

When you are anchored to the body, your ideas of self and your perception of reality can change,

while the Truth of you remains intact.

The “Love Language” Trap

“Physical touch is my love language.”

POV: You didn’t ask. But the person you’re connecting with made sure to let you know.

Let’s unpack this a little bit — I’ll start by saying physical touch is a perfectly valid love language. Most people rank it highly when they interact with the 5 Love Languages model — and fairly enough, because it also represents a fundamental human need.

However, our collective vulnerability around touch (and the lack of it) is precisely why it’s important to identify where it’s being exploited.

You see, many people announce themselves in front of an intention that’s less palatable. And when these people say “physical touch is my love language,” sometimes what they mean is:

“I want access to your body to be treated as proof of love.”

“I prioritize physical intimacy over the groundwork that makes it safe or meaningful.”

“I want you to view your boundaries as an impediment to my needs.”

Now, to be honest, I have several issues with the 5 Love Languages model in the first place.

Here’s the thing:

Physical touch.

Gifts.

Words of affirmation.

Quality time.

Acts of service.

Unless these are deeply understood, held in reverence, and accompanied by inner reflection, they could all be ways someone receives validation.

Not love.

But the two are more easily conflated when we reduce love to a set of measurable actions — and therein lies the second problem.

Any conveyance of love requires love to already be present. But when love looks like an itinerary, the suggestion becomes, “Here’s how we’re going to CREATE love in this relationship.”

At best, that mentality can have people performing compatibility that isn’t there.

At worst, it’s fertile ground for manipulation.

It’s the “If you loved me, you would…” negotiation dressed up in therapy speak.

The love language scaffolding sugarcoats what could very well be an egoic — or even predatory — interaction. It frames a preference as an unchangeable aspect of one’s identity and effectively discourages dialogue around whether that preference is mutually nourishing.

In truth, love is a frequency.

It’s a high-vibrational state of consciousness that can be expressed in countless ways.

When someone tells you “physical touch is my love language,” ask your body:

What frequency are they coming from?

If it’s not love, then their statement is incongruent.

If it’s not love, then it’s shaping your definition of it.

If it’s not love, you will feel depleted in that exchange.

Polyamory and the Shadow of Hierarchy

“Overnights don’t work with the boundaries I have set up with my wife. Let’s keep things casual, okay?”

My heart sank into my gut.

I realized I had a need that had nothing to do with the sex we’d been having.

I don’t feel like this side of the story gets told enough.
There’s plenty of discourse around open relationships that centers couples.
But the secondary partner perspective often feels like an accessory to those conversations.

I’ll say this as a once prolific “unicorn."

Most couples operate under an implicit standard:
Sex is welcome, but a certain level of emotional aftercare is not.
—Because it would dissolve the structural hierarchy.

These arrangements are appealing for valid reasons.
For the couple I mentioned, it was a rebellion from their religious upbringing.
It was a kink.
It was a reprieve from their marriage.

None of these things are wrong to want.
But all of them turned me into an object.

When I got quiet enough to listen, my body revealed I needed more emotional containment—especially in the context of what was going on in my life. There wasn’t a place to be met inside their dynamic, so I let go.

Having an open sexuality gained me proximity to intimacy.
Yet the expression was only sustainable in the absence of it.

I’ve lived the shadow side of what happens when the exchanges that make you feel desirable and free also require you to remain convenient.

Here’s another one:

“Polyamory is a way to get your needs met.”

Now, my reaction to this statement is colored by the context of the man who said it, (Different man than the first).

But even at face value, the potential implication of this statement has me challenging the difference between regarding people as resources versus regarding people as commodities.

Since we’re talking about polyamory, we’re talking about relationship exchange that goes beyond friendship and into sex and romance. That being the case introduces power dynamics that, in my experience, are most prolifically exploited by unconscious men and couples that include them.

There are plenty of red flags to look out for in dating, period. But if you’re a woman who dates men, it’s particularly important to be aware of the social conditioning which, when unexamined, causes men to objectify women and women to self-objectify.

There is a well-known facilitator within my community whose behavior has left a number of women, including myself, feeling used and manipulated sexually. He is also the person who said, “Polyamory is a way to get your needs met.”

My question is, with that kind of utilitarian approach toward polyamory— is it not inevitable that people become seen as tools? Especially when you practice from a hierarchy (primary vs. non-primary partnership) that determines which “needs” are being met?

This doesn’t necessarily have to be about gender, but I find that gender adds an important variable to the way we see human value and organize power around it.

This doesn’t necessarily have to be about polyamory either— people certainly get used in monogamous relationships.

I’m just genuinely asking:
How often does non-commitment green light a sense of, “I’m not responsible to you as a whole person, so I don’t have to treat you like one”?
—and when is that compounded to a dangerous degree by the gender imbalances that already exist in society?

In my more recent content, I talk about my journey through sex and love addiction.

In truth, my experiences with love addiction and open relationships didn’t continuously intersect.
So why then did I make hierarchical polyamory the spine of this story?

Because the dynamic mirrors larger systems that become extractive when we lose touch with our embodiment.
And because it magnified that very disconnect within me.

The zeitgeist seems to constantly ask what we’re willing to sacrifice for the parts of us that want more love.

These days, I’m asking something different:

What systems enable the body to function as currency?
And where do those systems live inside us?

Potential, Projection and the Journey of Discernment

As your level rises—your frequency, emotional health, finances, success, etc.— So too does the potential you see in other people. Not because they actually have access to certain levels of experience, but because you’re projecting a reflection of what you've achieved.

The spiritual journey gets really exciting because you start to see the magic in everyone. The wholeness of their being. Their light. Their divinity. And their… potential.

In reality, the Truth of them does exist, vibrating on higher dimensions that you may be able to perceive. But if they are not attuned to this version of self, you will experience them from their lower self— the unhealed ego— within how they treat you.

The more potential we see, the more potential we run the risk of investing in.

This is why you might find yourself re-learning boundaries as you upgrade (a great sign, btw).

Excitement walks with her dark sister, Heartbreak. Heartbreak can show up when you realize that someone isn’t headed where you are.

But she comes with an opportunity to alchemize your pain into wisdom— thereby raising your consciousness even further.

Once you’ve consecrated your energy through discernment, those who can meet you fall away for those who will.

When ‘Healthy Communication’ Becomes a Weapon

He said, "I feel judged. I feel misheard. My story is that you're holding your past experiences with men against me."

And so, I softened. I self-examined. And I invited his narrative into my own with clarifying questions.

That's when the manipulation took foot.

These past few months have been a whirlwind, but as of today, I've become aware of something very important: "Healthy" communication can still be used to gaslight someone out of their intuition.

I wasn't judging him— I was reading him. I wasn't projecting— I was picking up on the layers behind his words.

But still, I yielded under the question, "Is this my intuition telling me something isn't right, or is it just my fear of getting hurt again?"

The truth is, there 𝘸𝘢𝘴 fear— but not of closeness. It was fear of separation. An age-old abandonment fear that quieted my inner knowing and called it grace.

Distrust is rigid after all. It's a sign of a wounded person, right? I didn't want to let my past traumas with men cause me to distrust the masculine forever. And I thought, 'Maybe this is the opportunity to heal that.'

It wasn't. At least, not exactly.

Because it turns out, the man in front of me wasn't the masculine I needed to trust, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯. The grounded, logical side of my inner guidance system.

No communication structure or strategy is meant to supersede the communication that happens within you.

Now, I know very well that the message isn't always clear. That's how mistakes happen. But that's okay too.

Because the path is not about getting things right. It's about the relationship that you cultivate between you and yourself while you're figuring everything out.

For anyone who's been through a similar experience, know that shame does far more to your body than any violation against it ever could. Do not give life to shame. Don't call the experience "a lesson", if that doesn't feel good. (For me it doesn't)

What I went through, I'm seeing it as a wrung on a ladder as I climb into every aspect of my sovereignty.

The Micro-Assaults of Woman-hood

Just like there's a spectrum of racism that includes 'micro-aggressions',

Women experience sexual exploitation mostly through a life of normalized micro-assaults. There are many situations where the circumstances around a boundary violation are so ambiguous, complex or fleeting that the most instinctual thing to do is just chalk it up as part of being a woman.

But those unexpressed reactions, they simmer. Often it's an anxiety that's ever-present— the latent awareness of the risk it is to exist in our bodies.

Sometimes it's a rage that we didn't know was there until we let it out— if we ever do.

Sometimes it's the shutting of our voice, Sometimes it's the screaming of our wombs. Sometimes it's a shame with nowhere to go but inwards.

Anxiety, Rage, Shame— this is the stuff that compounds in our bodies over time.

For years, I dulled my sensitivity to these pains.

Now that I'm feeling and processing what I've identified as micro-assaults, I'm also releasing on behalf of all the times this thing went unnamed.

Last week, I was moving through rage. I do honor her as sacred. And I know she'll be back whenever her medicine is needed.

All that said, today, I'm moving through forgiveness.

I'm forgiving the masculine to the extent where it feels safe to...

and I'm forgiving myself for every unasked question, every unsaid word, and for every time I self-exploited because that felt safe.

Thank you for witnessing.

The Dark Side of Asking for Consent

This weekend, I was outside at a retreat talking to a man who was using his hands to demonstrate a point. Suddenly, he asked if he could touch me, while his hands were already hovering over my thigh. I remember scanning the situation I was in— the people around me, the vibe— feeling caught off guard, confused, and curious about wherever this was going— all in a split second before I blurted out, 'Sure!'

He continued talking, this time gesticulating by dragging his fingers up and down my thigh. Immediately my stomach dropped as I realized the unnecessary nature of the touch, the discomfort in my gut and my embarrassment by the publicness of it all.

Later, when I could process, my first thoughts were: "I could've said no. It would've said so much about my character and how strong my boundaries are... Why didn't I just say no?! I would be a stronger woman for it. Is this really where I am with my expression?

Then, before I went into a full spiral of self-blame and self-shame I asked myself, "Okay, and now, Where am I not being fair to me?"

The truth I gave myself was: The question was quick and without context. I didn't know what kind of touch this man intended or for what purpose. I didn't want to create friction in a setting where love, connection and networking were the goals.

Maybe in hindsight, I should've said no. But in perspective, is it even fair that he asked?

Recently, I've now dealt with two similar situations and they've brought up some things for me to examine...

First, of course, there's the personal accountability— Where in me was that kneejerk reaction to say yes? And what does it say about my relationship with my body?

But also— Where in the greater collective is consent considered a green light to act on self-serving impulses?

Asking for consent can be a way to progress intimacy when it's not already progressing for a reason.

Then if there are mixed or uncomfortable feelings after, the onus is on the person who said 'yes', not on the person who was forward.

A verbal yes is a signed contract in a society where people— especially women— are conditioned to say yes when we mean no. And when that happens, our 'yes' becomes the weapon we're left to beat ourselves with.

We aren't always saying yes to being touched. Sometimes we're saying yes to a frictionless interaction, to a non-disruptive social experience, to the benefit of the doubt, to being chill, being able to move on with our day.

I know that people aren't mind readers and it's not anyone's job to determine what a person is really saying 'yes' to.

That's why I challenge consent-seekers to ask themselves why they want the touch they're asking for.

Because if that reason only goes as deep as 'It would feel good for me', then maybe the touch can wait until a more familiar relationship is established.

Maybe it would be more appropriate to mirror the other person's boundaries instead of pulling on them by asking for consent.

There was a long period in my life where an uncomfortable thigh touch would be just another Tuesday. But screw it. I'm not letting this shit just sit in my body anymore.

Celibacy Journey Update

2 years ago, I set the boundary that I wouldn't have sex with someone until we had established a committed relationship. That ultimately resulted in a year and a half of celibacy, which was ended by a brief relationship I had earlier this year.

I am now counting into my second period of celibacy. Here's what I'm observing today:

When romance enters and exits my life, I feel more of it. In truth, I've noticed that I feel more of everything. Celibacy doesn't just make you more sensitive intimately, it makes you more emotionally sensitive too. Abstaining has meant surrendering to every emotion that comes up in that liminal space before relationship— and those again when that connection fades out.

I learned that having an orgasm within an experience that isn't being held in love and devotion, causes me to feel empty after, (regardless if there's penetration).

I learned that people have misconstrued sacred sexuality as some kind of fetishized spiritual practice.

For those who don't know: Sacred sexuality is a lot more than a bedroom activity. It is an entire, highly-evolved, spiritual path that requires love, devotion and discipline.

Celibacy is the same reverence turned inwards. It requires self-love, self-devotion and self-discipline. This is why it is the strongest foundation for sacred sexual practice— and why it is now a hard pre-requisite for any of my future partners to have undergone.

Celibacy has forced me to choose myself over and over again.

It has forced me to be present with myself, even when it's challenging.

It's not about any kind of religious repression— I'm not religious. On the contrary, my sexuality is expressive and potent as part of my radiant being.

It's about choosing myself through the muck and the ambiguity all the way through and into clarity— and yes, sometimes clarity hurts too.