The Feminine + The Forest : An Er0tic Love-Story

It seems I have accidentally moved to the Forest.

I am on a bit of a walk-about from LA, spending 2 months in Hawaii, returning to LA only to feel its edges far too jagged, its velocity knocking me off my feet, and its brightness all- too sharp.

Now it is Marin.....and despite envisioning modern homes designed by Eichler, the color of cloud and glass, we have found ourselves nested in a peculiarly magical cottage, teetering on the butter knife's edge of being unbearably woodsy for my modernist soul.

All around me: erudite redwood trees, wetted moss with its little tender cilia fur, fattened slugs down below and lean, screaming hawks high above.

And so it is into the Forest I now go, sitting on logs that smell of old rain and the noble rot of fallen ancient tree.

In these woods, I snarfle about, a sight I am sure: a strange criatura somewhere between priestess... .and truffle pig.

Suddenly seized by the slimy rapture of slug belly, I flip these fattened forest anemones onto their backs, deep in wild-eyed curiosity. (Slug police: I reset them properly once I am done with my inspections, which leave me at once repulsed and utterly enchanted.)

I watch my own fingers, suddenly naked and little girl-like as the phantom remnants of their snazzy LA manicures fade. I stick them inside fecund dirt and draw my ears close as they scratch at ghostly shards of antler bone.

And somehow, I realize..... I am finding me in this forest.

I am finding me in the darkened soil and the dappled sun, belly of grotesquely fattened slug, remnants of bone and rot.

I scratch and snuffle about, sticking nose and finger into nearly fleshly crevices of earthly delight.

I poke and bury, sometimes even taste, placing tongue against hallowed bark or swollen stamen, an amuse bouche for my deeper hungers.

There is a darkly enchanted ecstatic intimacy in this exploration. There is no bright tone of joy or even happiness when I descend into the Forest.

My tongue and womb and fingers animate with a deeply embodied gnosis and remembrance. It is my se, my instinct, and my body which *know* this place far more deeply and intimately than my mind.

It is in these small tastes of the wild that I have come to recognize as the place where the Feminine truly finds and restores herself.

Our grief spills onto the body of fallen baby bird, (or in the crashing of the sea), our remembrance and taste for life is found in victorious seedling or mighty oak.

Our se awakens to its deepest creational magic amidst the carnal circus of seeded, wetted forest floor.

THIS is where Eros dwells ....in the primordial wellspring of INSTINCT and of this wild. I am coming to understand that for the Feminine essence ones, DOWN we must go.

It is The Divine *AND* The Wild that is our deepest medicine, the deepest dwelling place of Feminine Eros.

An archetypal, mythical understanding of Nature and of Gaian wisdom has not been part of the my own Soul's topography in this lifetime. There are women, however, who not only carry this medicine deep within womb and psyche, they ARE this medicine.

My beloved client Kate, formally initiated as an "Underworld Guide" (omg) after many years of rigorous study and being lovingly/intentionally thrusted into the Underworld realms by the Grand Daddy of Soul-Crafting himself (Bill Plotkin) is lifting this Nature-based Feminine Initiation into a virtual circle. Her guidance and attunement with Eros is *exquisite*. She is both fully, wholly sovereign -- and-- an utterly submitted hand-maiden and Devotee of Eros -- and of the Deep Feminine.

Elemental Eros: An Archetypal Journey of Feminine Initiation through Nature.

The women are gathering; the circle begins 26 March.

Do reach out if the Wild is calling you.

It is NATURE herself that is the holy antidote to these riddled times.

(A note to the Marin Loves: I am slowly lifting out of the fecundity of the forest, and will be delighted to say a proper hello soon.

The original post on facebook can be found here