Maybe I am alone in this, and maybe not. Either way, I claim it now as my truth…
I am a woman who feels sexiest when I bleed.
I feel sexiest as I sit bare-assed on my throne with a purple towel under my hips to catch my free flow during those first two days when my body rejects anything inside of me, and clothing seems like such a waste of good blood and laundry detergent.
I feel sexiest when I see the blood smeared across my inner thighs, painting the most tender and receptive channels of my body with the nourishment that is mine alone to share as I so choose.
I feel sexiest when I dance naked out under the dark moon, spiraling round with blood on my forehead and trailing down my legs to mark the grass with crimson tracks of where I’ve been as I sing songs of where I’m going.
I feel sexiest when the children ask me what’s in the jar of red liquid sitting on the bathroom counter, and I tell them it’s my yoni blood, the juice that flows from my body each month to help me shed layers of what’s no longer needed so I can share that gift in holy communion with the Earth and my favorite houseplants.
I feel sexiest when my stomach is bloated and distended, shattering all of society’s illusions of what feminininity is meant to look like and crafting the knowledge of what true Goddess is based off my own reflection.
I feel sexiest when I self-pleasure to relieve my menstrual cramps, again and again until the pain turns to pleasure and I remember why my spirit agreed to come into this body, custom designed for my mission to come home to myself as magic and remind others they can do the same.
I feel sexiest when I let my emotions flow as freely as my blood, my body grieving the loss of the life not yet to birth so that my attention and energy can be directed in fullness towards the mysteries I hold within, awaiting their time to come through. Blood mingled with tears, iron and salt, grieving the deepest aspects of my core wounds, my ancestors’ core wounds, humanity’s core wounds, the Earth’s core wounds, releasing any sense of separation, of defining what’s mine and what’s their’s, so that what needs to be felt, acknowledged, integrated, and released can find its healing through me.
Because I can.
And I do.
And that, I feel, is pretty fucking sexy.
Not alone. Never alone.
#bloodlove #bloodmagic #bloodmysteries