She shows me a worldwide storm, and she names women the ambassadors of holy disruption. She shows me tribes of righteous feminine agents wearing bloody flower crowns and showing their aching parts to each other.
On election night, as the results were projected onto the Empire State Building, all I could see was Kali’s fierce stare. This was déjà vu. This time, Kali took America.
I want to dance with Kali’s shadow, in the darkness with my eyes closed.
I want to feel into this power with tentative talons, self-conscious of my raw unbound body.
As divine feminine aspects of our own nature, these goddesses remind us that it is both normal and essential for us to withdraw sometimes. For seeds germinate in the dark, fertile soil before they sprout into light. Babies are enveloped and nourished in the dark waters of their mothers’ wombs ...