I have never felt so juicy as I have felt the past months. My life is flowing, I feel in my body, sexy, ready to open up and explore, flirty, exciting, surrendering on a deeper level, loving on a deeper level, more on purpose than ever, and having all kinds of exciting adventures I was not ready to embark on before.
I feel happy. And blessed. And turned on. By life. And sometimes by people. Or plants. Or flowers, or thunderstorms, or good food, or good music… you catch my drift. The past years I have learned so much about my body and her being a gateway to ecstasy, sensation, sensuality and my womanhood.
To my power. To my full power; pussy, heart, mind and the stellar included. It feels goood. And yummy. And amazing. And so… me. Woman. Powerful woman.
Ready to shine. To burst. To be juicy.
Yet, I also feel sad. Quite a lot. Grieving. Sometimes for a clear thing, sometimes just… aaa letting go. Of a tension, a person, a connection, an old way of being. Of an old me. I feel tears rising even writing that.
And while I am GOOD with the abundance and juicy thing, I am still learning to build a deeper relationship with the grief. The letting go.
And this morning, in the shower, of course, it hit me: these things are inextricably linked. These experiences of opening up, and by sheer default opening up into places that have not been opened into before, and therefore also finding places of grief. Grief for what has been, for what has protected me before, for what I am ready to release, and what has been a part of me. Often for so long.
And so I am grieving. It seems like the most normal thing to do. And yet, I am learning. I am still learning to see it, and fully accept it, as just as an essential part of growing as the bigness is.
Our society is so much more about the other things: amazing orgasms, epic life adventures, new things, juice! It seems there is such a stronger emphasis on new, more, exciting, alive; than there is on the old, letting go, creating spaces to mourn, to say good bye, to let something, or someone, actually leave my body.
Writing that I feel the pain that comes with it. It is sad, very sad, and yet it is a pain in service of growing. Of surrendering the places that are keeping me smaller. It is pain that, once I allow it, actually feels good. It feels so normal, so incredibly human.
And, so what I am starting to track, is that juiciness is vitally linked with grief.
With aliveness comes letting go, with opening up comes melting a previous resistance, with ‘owning that shit’ (as I like to say) comes dis-identifying with a part I was previously identified with. It is simply the way of the old making way for the way of the new. The eb and flow of opening and contracting.
I am letting go of the old so I can be the new.
And that is beautiful.
As a dear friend once said when I was crying my eyes out on his shoulder; “you are just making more space to love”.
So, I am wanting to bring some softness and space to the process of grieving, as that has been my process and learning for the past while.
Let yourself grieve. Cry. Let it go. Let it rip, out of your body. And when you feel stuck, whisper some words of gratitude to what has been and what wants to come. Put on some Max Richter (see link below) and cry it all out. It will not last forever. You are simply creating more space to love.
I love you,
PS: And a big shout out to my inspirations in juiciness and flow:
Pussy power and amazing juiciness with Layla Martin
Amazing intimacy with Lynn Kreaden
Pink Tantra with Blake Steele
Rolfing with Janco Volk
and my men.
And dancing. Ecstatic Dancing.
Thank you. A big bow to all of you. (and this list is by no means complete)