The Dark Side of Love and Ecstasy.
{source}
It’s 8.16 am. I’ve been up since the cawing of the cockerel. I haven’t slept much since Venus began her beloved dark dance with Pluto.
The underbelly of love has revealed itself in all of its raw fleshy glory, and on this sunlit morning, I’m called to go to the bottom of the garden to meet the Dark Feminine of my tender soul.
I light the candle and burn the sage, knowing that this space is the most holy of places. Not many know that, but I do. I call in grief like a long-lost lover. I call her in so fiercely that in seconds, I’m cracked open by this mysterious force that most spend their whole life time pushing away, but not I. I know that deep down there, in the belly of the whale, lies the deepest medicine a woman can drink.
It’s dark medicine, but then after all I am the dark alchemist, so drink my own medicine I will. With gusto, mi amor, with gusto.
Only the one who is ready to turn towards her deepest longing can feel this grief and know that it is in fact the gateway to all of her love’s needs. It’s insanely paradoxical, for she has been taught that to be a woman is to tame this wild and plaster her with a mask so thick that she can’t breathe. She was taught this in order to survive, and in doing so, believed that she was living. But not this woman.
She knows that this wild is what she has been starving for. She’s gone so far over the edge that she’s doesn’t fear her madness. In fact, she knows it as her beloved.
So she chooses to feel this love that first comes in the guise of grief. She opens her temple-body to the well of grief for all the women who have chosen to be single because they knew that sacrificing their wild for a worn-out version of love was the biggest betrayal of womankind, and at the same time, she opens her soul to the grief of all of the women who sacrificed their wild for a love that was too small.
That’s how big her love is. In this sacred space, she can feel the bottomless pit of the Dark Feminine.
I often wonder if there is a man who can meet me in this level of feeling.
I’m calling out the ancient prayer of late: send me my man. If he were to arrive in this moment, what would he do? Would he want to come and save me from this hell-bent ecstasy? Or would he instead be able to meet this face and all of the other faces of the Feminine that are so part of this divine tapestry? I pray for the latter. In fact, it can only be so.
This grief is so ancient. And yet it happened only two days ago. This grief is as old as the soul. Know that I too am terrified, beloved. Know that I too am scared that if I reveal all of me, that you’ll turn your back, that you won’t be able to stay.
I’m terrified that you’ve been wounded beyond recognition by the Feminine that couldn’t hold herself in the force of these waves.
How can I show you that I’m not afraid to feel this? How can I prove to you that no matter how many times you reject me, I will continue to choose love, because that’s who I am? How can I show you that I’m not afraid to feel abandoned by you, because the only thing that can be rejected is the depth of this feeling?
This grief is my love. This rage is my love. This abandonment is the depths of how much I can love. These tears are my love. This pain is my love. This fear is my love. This terror is my love. It’s all love, beloved. It’s all love. I’m not afraid to feel this love. So don’t be scared of me, with me.
This deep dark, that some may call wounded place, is my art. It’s my mystery. It’s the depth of where all of these words are born. Every opportunity to go here is a gift from the beloved Divine, for how would I create without the tearing of my heart?
When I catch this wave, I surf a force of nature into creation. I write with this dark magic.
So thank you, beloved . Thank you. I need you. I love you.
***
Kate Joyner aka Silver Moon Poetry is a lover of all things wild. She gives voice to the unspoken voices of the feminine through her bold and sensuous poetry performances. Her most recent production, The Blood Tales, is where she ‘re-mystifies the most mis-understood phenomena of a woman’s body by telling the true tales about our blood.’ It’s a one-woman show, not to be missed. When she is not spitting the poetic voice of the Feminine, she guides those who want to awaken the feminine magic of their own soul and to lead wildly creative lives, through online mentoring and courses. You could visit her here, and sign up to her mailing list here.
***
{Join us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram & Pinterest}
Comments
Latest posts by Rebelle Society (see all)
- Cemetery of Tears. - November 22, 2024
- My Identity Journey: What’s in a Name? - November 22, 2024
- Cyprus: A Magic Place That Feels Like Home. - November 22, 2024