My fingertips paused in that last post–Woman on Fire–as the words came pouring through me, from a Source that has its own movement and energy and pushes through in the moments I least expect it. Sacred Prostitute??? Really? Are we going to say that OUT LOUD, right here, where it’s connected to me, to my name, my ‘work’ – all of it? I paused. I deleted the letters on the screen, only to be assured from within they were the ‘right’ words to let my fingers type, to share, to expose in the light of day.
As if there wasn’t already plenty of energy moving through my being, wave after wave of release and opening, THIS felt and feels like having been catapulted into a void of darkness and deep emotion where I’m just not sure what’s up or down. Old patterns resurfacing. (I DID say this Sacred Feminine sensual energy is NOT simply about sex, didn’t I? So why does it feel, once again, like it SO is??) What I sense is that simply allowing these words to be claimed by me was a virtual opening of Pandora’s Box. Every dark experience, painful judgment, twisted misconception and assumption of a Sacred Prostitute and her energy feels like it’s ruminating in my being, running through and wreaking havoc with a heat that is near unbearable. I’m questioning my own Sacred Feminine energy and what is real or what is not. The old voice of my inner self critic has found momentum in the uncertainty, the questioning, the stirring of residues that are both mine and not mine. Residues of heartache, of misunderstanding ourselves, of frustration coupled with an inability to get clear just yet.
If I hadn’t done the amount of sinking into my self, to my heart, to my truth I’ve done over these last several years, I would for sure be drowning in my own process. I opened Sera Beak’s book Red, Hot & Holy: A Heretic’s Love Story for inspiration and came across this bit, which seems to relate huge in all that my being is sorting out just now:
‘Every one has an f.f. (false feminine), but she’s difficult to define because she’s slippery and chameleonlike; she transforms and adapts according to the woman and the situation. Although the f.f works differently in each of us, her main attribute is misusing the feminine to attain power. She has no life force of her own, so she survives and gets her needs met by using other people (like batteries) and then allowing them to do the same to her. She needs constant attention–physically and energetically–and she has found manipulative ways to get these needs met.’
And then this:
‘The f.f. also holds the shadow of the sacred prostitute–that is, just ‘the prostitute.’ As you know, prostituting yourself isn’t just about selling sex; it’s about selling your soul.
There’s a big difference between service and servitude. Someone who has a healthy inner sacred prostitute is not in service to a man or to ‘The Man’; rather she serves the greater good. Servitude is putting myself down, allowing myself to be dominated by others or a system of belief. Service is filling my own well with Her and acting from this inner divine authority. Truth is, we can’t be of authentic service on this planet if we are sucked dry or unconsciously leeching off other people energetically or covertly trying to ‘get something’ that we aren’t giving ourselves (Attention? Safety? Admiration? Love?).‘
So what I can sense in all of this for me, is that a deeper awareness of my own Sacred Prostitute energy is bubbling up into consciousness, gaining power along the way, although the opposite feels true. Understanding our own ‘f.f’ – or false feminine – tendencies and patterns is absolutely imperative to embodying our own inner divine authority and power. We must know who we are, how we operate both in the places where we have claimed the fullness of ourselves and also with an openness to those corners still shrouded in darkness, in our unconscious. I’m wide open to whatever is here, as unnerving and chaotic as it feels inside my being. I trust in all that is unfolding….and will continue to give myself to it fully.