To sit here and write this took discipline.


A break from my feminine, where I have been, dimmed; living the melodies that accompany the questioning of things. Painting my days with the colours that make black and white reality. Far from my usual drive to share what I was experiencing, choosing instead to slow into my own energy.


My own healing.


I let the diary fall away to chase butterflies.

Drink tea.

Notice patterns.

And heal parts of me I didn’t know needed healing.


I spoke by not saying anything.

And in the quietest of moments forgave the souls and stories that have kept me hurting.


I remembered what it felt to feel good. To be in-body. To share life here on the earth plane. And as the sun began to fade learned to reassure the masculine part of me that if he surrendered a bit of control, the feminine wouldn’t go crazy.

Or be abandoned.

Or drained from over-giving.


I let my masculine side off the hook.

Off-duty.

I removed his armour.

Slowly.

Saving him from the lifetimes he’s died protecting me. Saying thank you for the times he gave his life so my feminine side could breathe.

Deeply.


And in that space felt peace.

Not just within, but within humanity.


I began to notice the masculine and his beauty.

The way his steadiness brings out the strength in me.

The way he lives to give me wings.

The way I could never see him from the wounds we both felt from the patriarchy; where neither could be each other in fear of what that might mean.


Unity.