Holding my own flesh
like a holy site
an unbound pleasure.
~ Isabelle Abbott
Unbound pleasure takes me in. I have rarely let myself go completely like this. I close my eyes to feel this. I know this unboundedness as awareness, as infinite consciousness. An open sky. But in my own flesh? No. But I want to. I’ve been admitting this to myself lately. Lilith is calling me. She who is a goddess unto herself, she who told Adam, â€˜No, I will not be on the bottom.â€™ She who left the garden.
Did her fierce sovereignty cost her? Perhaps only in the eyes of those who believe in the texts, but I believe in the text of Lilithâ€™s flesh. This is her holy site. How is her text mine? In her text, she left on her own accord. In the text of the patriarchy, she was banished.
I sense the Garden of Eden as manâ€™s garden.Â ManÂ drew the borders, set the fence posts, strung the wire and proclaimed this to be the civilized world and anyone who strays outside and enters the wild becomes the feared, the scorned, the wicked. But outside the garden? Unbound pleasure.
What keeps me from unbound pleasure? This fear of banishment.Â I felt a bit of this when I left my relationship six years ago. Suddenly, I was not with a man â€“ no longer one who is chosen. Oh yes, no one says these words. But I could feel it.
A woman’s sexuality is powerful. Wild even. To be fully oneself, one must enter the wild. We fear banishment because we’ve believed we no longer have our wild.
Banishment in the wild without one’s own wild is frightening. Banishment in the wild WITH one’s own wild is a homecoming.
Plums, not apples.
Dark thick, purple-black plums, like Her.
The Dark Queen.
The Black Madonna.
Hidden throughout shelters and caves with rustic,
hand-made altars erected to her reckoning.
She is the impenetrable woods.
Thicker than the honey that lines the heart. Blacker than the moonless nights. She is unbound pleasure as she spreads herself across the wild land she claimed with her own, Hell No.
That dark queen lives in me.
The impenetrable woods, the thicket, and bramble that winds its way into my holy center. Protected. Fierce. Where only the majestic is enthroned.
The Black Madonna knows banishment well. Yet, She also knows the deepest most encompassing love, including love for those who banished her. For here is the grace She wields. And here is the grace she is teaching me. My desire that burns hot will not banish me but rather burn away the pain of my own separation from my majestic sexuality.
And it is majestic.
It is union with the Beloved. All the unspoken lies go up in the flame of Beloved and lover becoming one.
My body is an altar to Her.
Everywhere, there are wild altars to Her.
Through my own journey, I have discoveredÂ that flowers are altars to Her.Â A flower once showed meÂ the whole of existence through her bright countenance. She showed me the true nature of life here on Earth. She opened my heart showed me that flowers speak to us so that we can rememberÂ this nature, our nature. And when I open to flowers, they guide me.
For a short time, I am offering aÂ Power of the Flower Lite Study of You. I’ve created a deck of flower cards. With you in mind, I pull one flower, your flower, and then I sit in deep meditation to see what she reveals to me about you and any question you’ve shared with me. I write up what I see into a beautiful 14-16 page PDF and send it to you. Within a few weeks time, I will alsoÂ mailÂ you – yes, snail mail! – a printed copy of the flower for you to have and place on your wild altar.
Read moreÂ about this beautiful study of You and how I was awakened to the Power of the Flower. You’ll be taken to JulieDaley.com