That first bleed, the awakening call, the change of season, the spark of knowing our purpose.
We carry the wound of our first menses, our first bleeding as a young woman, it continues to play a part throughout our lives becoming the root of our bloods history.
We reach menopause, the time of our aspiring crone, where that wound has become fully formed, it will have moulded and shaped us throughout our life and as we arrive at that turning point we will have identified it, lived with it as it shaped our attitude into who we might become as the aged one.
We have been preparing for this time from the very beginning, and now we embrace the fruit of our cycle.
Each woman has a purpose, holds medicine for those yet to follow, we prepare for this sometimes unknowingly, it will be hard to know it for sure until this time shows itself, when we lose all that is lost to us, that part of our identity that has lived through us every month of every year.
But now that our menses are done, the bleeding has stopped and our creativity turned inwards, the drying up of the old. The knowledge and wisdom beckons to us, we are reminded to take our place.
We cannot move on without it.
Without that knowing we cannot dream in the essence of the wise one coming to this time in our life, embracing our elder-hood to step out in all of our power and become the medicine woman that is needed.
Exploring the cycle from maiden to cro(w)ne and if journeyed with in-depth will begin to reveal the most fascinating selves and our reason for being here.
Our history like an ancient ruin, with crumbling walls reclaiming the natural surroundings, our wisdom seeps through those cracks. As the dark histories of our past return to guide us.
Our menopause is not meant to be comfortable, we are supposed to feel discomfort. It puts us on edge, it puts us in touch with our wild and instinctual self, we are meant to feel frustration, to embrace it as the awakening crone turns her head.
Burning away the inhibitions and the silence, letting go of the niceties placed upon us, releasing the conformity and the type of feminine creature that we thought we should be. We are no longer terrified of not being what society would make us.
No, without the discomfort we would not awaken. And they see that. ‘Here take this pill, dull your senses, do not embrace the fire. We like you just the way you are.’
I have sweated, I have burned, I have danced my craziest of dances, I have written poetry in the dark and I have shouted and cursed where no one else can hear. I have taken my creative juice and turned it into the richest of medicine for those who follow my footsteps, and I have enriched my own life with the passion of the mightiest wave on the sea.
Slow down, be still, ah yes, that time has come but not at the expense of my maiden wings having taken flight and my crone and wizened years become the wisdom of my greatest of grandmothers.
Only now can I recognise who I truly am. Only now, because I fully danced that dance.
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