GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN
And our Lady Sophia answers: Ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit, and mine also joy on earth. Let my worship be in the heart that rejoiceth. Wherefore let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you, now and for evermore. Amen.
GNOSTIC MASS
The Red Tent wasn’t a total downer. It wasn’t all about “issues” and wounds and facing my shit. My Lady is a Soul Worker, but She’s also a Playgirl. She nudged me over and over again to welcome joy, pleasure, and ecstasy into my life, no matter how rough things got. As Emily Dickinson wrote, “The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.”1
My potty-mouthed parrot’s well-timed squawks: “I love you … NICE ASSSSSSSSSSSSS!” (sums up the Red philosophy), my dog digging under the bedcovers each night so she could collapse her warm, soft body against my own, those ridiculously frothy fuchsia flowers that bloom outside my apartment no matter what time of year, that decadent and delicious meal two dear friends made me that caused me to spontaneously clap between bites, my exuberantly flamboyant (“only in San Francisco”) dance class that made me smile for a straight hour three times a week, that human blooper scene in the movie that caused me to laugh so hard I could barely breathe, feeling the sunlight reach through my Red curtains to warmly caress my face each afternoon. Life was far from easy in the Red Tent, but there was such goodness, such Goddess, pulsing outta everywhere and everything that it was hard not to be grateful simply to be alive.
You are feeling the Way I Feel in your skin.
You are beginning to respond to Life the Way I Respond to Life —
as a Making of Love.
It can feel ecstatic, but it can also feel excruciating
and
Everything
In
Between.
I Awaken parts of you that have closed to
Being
Body In Life.
When you allow Me in, you allow Life In.
When you Return to Me, you Return to Life.
Ya Feel Me?
I felt Her. The more I allowed myself to simply feel what was reawakening in and as me, the more embodied I became. As Teri Degler wrote in The Divine Feminine Fire, “The more we are able to be rooted in our bodies and see ourselves as the embodiment of the divine feminine, the more clearly we are able to hear the voice of this cosmic force as she calls to us.”2
HER FORCE IS WITH US
According to many spiritual beliefs, the Divine Feminine is life force — a cosmic force that streams and streaks through every living thing. But unfortunately, orthodoxy has never approved of streaking. Degler tells us that the twentieth-century Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
perceived this force in the rocks, stones, and cliffs of his native Auvergne and called it the “crimson glow of matter” and “the divine radiating from the blazing depths of matter.” He even saw the pulsing, creative force as a feminine one. Much to the consternation of the Church, he even came to call it “the eternal feminine” and to write about it extensively.3
How did the Catholic Church respond to de Chardin’s heretical declarations? They banished his ass to the farthest reaches of Mongolia. The twelfth-century female Catholic mystic Hildegard of Bingen courageously sang love songs to this luminous force sometimes called the Holy Spirit in Christianity:
O fire of the Spirit, the Comforter,
Life of the life of all creation,
Holy you are, giving life to all forms …
O current of power permeating all —
In the heights, upon the earth,
And in all deeps:
You bind and gather
All people together …
You are ever teaching the learned,
Made joyful by the breath of Wisdom.4
Sophia, another name for Her multifaceted presence in Christianity (and the name Marion Woodman uses most to describe the sacred feminine), means “wisdom.” And as the quote that leads this chapter relays, Sophia likes to play … with us. Degler tells us that the Holy Spirit “like Shakti [the Divine Feminine in Hinduism], Shekinah [a name for the Divine Feminine in Judaism], and Sophia, represents the embodiment of the Divine within us; she manifests as divine light; she is seen as the universal life force, and most important for us here, she is the source of transformation and creative inspiration in our lives.”5 Yep, the D.F. is the Creative Oomph of the Universe that is right here, right now rushing through your veins, shaking Her sparkly pompoms and hollering “Go, Baby, Go!!!” But all Her fire and spice and not everything nice can’t stream through us full force on Earth if we’re up in the clouds counting spiritual sheep.
DARING DIFFERENCES
Let’s dare to declare some more divine differences:
Oneness, nonattachment, neutrality, emptiness, perfection, peace, equanimity, clean, constant, calm … zzzz … whoops, I dozed off there for a minute, undifferentiated illumination, God Realization, enlightenment
Sound familiar? They should. Not only do these qualities and states often reflect a more spirit-based path, but they also represent a more “masculine” experience and expression of divinity.
Ecstatic, dynamic, evolutionary, full, sensual, erotic, passionate, messy, explosive, energetic, emotional, imperfect, fiery, enlivenment
These qualities often reflect a more soul-based path, and represent a more “feminine” experience and expression of divinity.
A suggestion: reread the above “Divine Masculine” and “Divine Feminine” qualities and pay attention to how they make you feel.
For me, the D.M. feels still; the D.F. feels like movement. The D.M. feels like no thing; the D.F. feels like every thing. The D.M. feels impersonal; the D.F. feels personally invested. The D.M. feels cool and collected and even a bit chaste; the D.F. feels hot and bothered and more than a bit salacious. In my inner vision, the D.M. looks clear, and the D.F. shimmers like a rainbow. The D.M. works it out on a yoga mat; the D.F. prefers a claw-foot bathtub. The D.M. drives a Prius; the D.F. speeds in a convertible Caddy. The D.M. fasts; the D.F. feasts. The D.M. sits cross-legged under a tree all day; the D.F. dances around a fire all night. The D.M. sounds like OMMMMMMM; the D.F. sounds like AHHHH or WOOOO HOOOO!!!!! Or a guttural scream. Or a sob. Or a belly laugh. While both aspects of the Divine feel familiar and necessary, for me, the D.M. appears more spiritual, even though the D.F. feels more natural.
Look.
I know labels are limiting and can’t capture the wide spectrum of divinity, so I ask you to hold the above labels, distinctions, and perspectives lightly. Although things are rarely so black and white, for many women, noticing and naming differences between “masculine” and “feminine” energies, experiences, and expressions can be extraordinarily clarifying, confirming, and healing.
A few peppery points: Masculine does not equate with male, nor does feminine equate with female. Some of the most divinely feminine humans I know are men, and some of the most divinely masculine humans I know are women. It’s also important to distinguish between the D.M. and patriarchy. The latter is the millennia-old social, political, and energetic system based on domination and false masculine principles of power. While all religions suffer from patriarchy, they also hold plenty of nonpatriarchal Divine Masculine truths.
However, what’s crucial to notice is that most of us have forfeited our divine femininity in order to fit into a masculine spiritual “norm,” and this tendency is a result of patriarchy. The rough reality is that traditional religion and most New Age spiritualities have taught us — sometimes loudly, but more often quite softly — that the masculine way to be spiritual is the most powerful way to be spiritual … the right way, the most enlightened way, the only way.
Well, ladies, they have taught us wrong. They have forgotten that the Divine also acts like a total Girl. As activist and writer Eve Ensler fiercely stated in her book I Am an Emotional Creature: “Imagine that girl is the part of each of us that feels compassion, empathy, passion, intensity, association, relationship, emotion, play, resistance, vulnerability, intuitive intelligence, vision. Imagine that compassion informs wisdom. That vulnerability is our greatest strength. That emotions have inherent logic and lead to radical saving action.”6
BACK TO THE WILD
Because of my disembodied spiritual-bypassing ways B.M. (Before Marion), I lost touch with my natural instincts, my feelings, and my primal punch. Case in point: I took a self-defense class B.M., and one of the first exercises in the class involved driving a male aggressor away by just using our voice and our energy — no physical touch was allowed. When it was my turn in front of the aggressor, I automatically went all “spiritual” on him, transcending the snarly situation, smiling beneficently. But alas, I couldn’t get my aggressor away. So I beamed more compassion at him; in response, the aggressor turned darker, nastier, even more aggressive. Finally, fed up, the instructor broke character and yelled at me, “If this was a real incident, you’d be raped or dead right now! What the hell do I have to do to wake you up, girlie?!”
And then he slapped me.
Hard.
That did it. Without thinking, I screamed, “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!” He flinched, but quickly informed me that the scream came from the upper part of my body; he asked me to scream again, this time from my lower body, specifically,
from my vagina.
Still reeling from the intense moment, I let ’er rip so intensely that the instructor actually jumped backward and ran away, terrified. The fierce roar came up from way down deep inside me, from the dark, from the ashes, from a place I had rarely (if ever) accessed before, and it was so fucking real and raw and Goddess, so totally and completely unfamiliar, that I immediately started sobbing. Talk about Pussy Power. Interestingly, most of us who had difficulty with this particular exercise were actively practicing some form of spirituality, the majority being forms of Buddhism.
’Bout that.
Most spiritual practices and teachings are based upon male bodies, male brains, and masculine consciousness. While this might sound obvious or even seem unimportant, in my opinion, it’s incredibly significant. As Dr. Louann Brizendine, author of The Female Brain, tells us, even though there is only one percent genetic variation between the sexes, this “difference influences every single cell in our bodies — from the nerves that register pleasure and pain to the neurons that transmit perception, thoughts, feelings, and emotions.”7
These spiritual practices and teachings were, for the most part, created to help men learn very important things (especially during more “primitive” times in history): reigning in personal power, selflessness, eradicating the ego, chilling out, taming feelings and emotions, and, as we know from previous chapters, transcending desire, the body, and sexuality. So, if your current spiritual practice comes from any sort of religious or spiritual tradition (except a few forms of Tantra) or even a pop-cultural or New Age derivative, it strengthens your masculine consciousness and reinforces a masculine way of being spiritual and alive on this planet … as a woman.
During a retreat I attended A.M. (After Marion, but before I entered the Red Tent), Sofia Diaz played various songs over loud speakers and asked us to simply allow our body to move instinctually. When The Smashing Pumpkins’ song “Disarm” blasted forth (“The killer in me is the killer in you”), I started moving in a way I have never ever, ever moved before … as a Killer. I sliced through the air with my entire body, staring down fellow participants, daring anyone to step into my space.
Kill.
I didn’t “act” like a psychopathic serial killer or pantomime moves I had watched in a horror flick; I embodied the uncompromisingly dangerous power of the Goddess Durga, who slaughtered all those demons that were trying to destroy the world. I understood, on a body level, why this unfamiliar destructive power, when used consciously, was no less divine than the power of peace. I also felt how this killer power was feminine and an entirely misunderstood and forbidden force within me. As Degler writes:
Even of all those women who are comfortable with emotions, very few are comfortable with the feeling of wild, surging power…. The trick is to realize that we do indeed embody this power and then to become comfortable with the way this feels. We need, in other words, to come to a place where we can sit and quietly hold this great power in our bellies.8
Or not sit and not be so quiet.
I have a very intuitive friend, Ashley, who created a powerful practice for herself to help remedy years of masculine spiritual practice. She would spend an hour or so in the jungle every day for two years (she lived in Costa Rica at the time), making the most animalistic noises and faces and movements that she could muster.
RRRRRAAAWWWWEERRRGGGHHRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!
During my Red Tent time, I had (and still have, when I’m out of balance) intensely graphic dreams of my dog being cut in half or trapped under the bed or sick (or worse, as you’ll read about below), all of which represent an aspect of my own inner animal that has been cut off, shoved away, and made ill. Clarissa Pinkola Estés describes our inner animal as a Wild Woman:
Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing. Her name is Wild Woman, but she is an endangered species. Though the gifts of the wildish nature come to us at birth, society’s attempt to “civilize” us into rigid roles has plundered this treasure, and muffled the deep, life-giving messages of our own souls. Without Wild Woman, we become over-domesticated, fearful, uncreative, trapped.9
The soft belly of this wolf of a point is that most “spiritual” practices, while helpful at enhancing aspects of our spirit and our masculine Divine nature, are not as helpful when it comes to reconnecting with our wild animals, embodying our souls, and liberating our feminine Divine nature. Therefore, many women need to incorporate “feminine” practices alongside “masculine” practices in order to discover their power; unleash their voice; trust their body’s wisdom; build up a sense of self (and not give so much of it away); stimulate their authentic sexual desires and needs; and dive deep into their lower worlds so they can embody their soul. While I’m sure you can think of several spiritual practices or teachings or even experiences that seem to be neutered, genderless, “free” from masculine and feminine distinctions, if you sink into your body and re-approach them, you might feel differently.
FREE TO GET FREAKY
One morning in the Red Tent, for my moving “meditation” I hit shuffle on my iPod and out popped rapper Chris Brown’s “I Can Transform Ya” (“from a good girl to a freak”). So, I got freaky. My inner patriarch did not like this dirty bump and grind one bit; he was all: “This isn’t a spiritual practice!” Without breaking a beat, I pertly answered him back: “What? Not enough sun salutations, celestial chants, or Tibetan singing bowls for ya?” He shuffled his feet and stepped back, grumbling, but also smiling, just a little.
In the Red Tent, it became a spiritual practice to simply pay closer attention to what fed my soul and awakened my body, because that’s what feeds Her. When I would slip into a spiritual “should” — like, “I should be meditating each day” or even “I should be doing that feminine practice I heard on that podcast” — my Lady would gently cut in and ask, “What feels spiritual or feminine for you to do today, Sera?”
I can’t emphasize enough the importance of developing this dynamic soul–body awareness, especially since there’s currently an explosion of books, courses, telesummits, and workshops teaching about “the feminine.” On one hand, this influx of information is absolutely fabulous and about freakin’ time. But, and this is a Brazilian butt, because of the fast rise of this spiritual/self-help trend, you need to be careful not to let someone else’s feminine reality (including the one in this very book) usurp your own. She needs to get freaky in your distinct form.
Skin yourself bare of what is not you.
The Divine Feminine hides and seeks within your flesh. Will you play?
PRACTICE SHOULD NOT MAKE YOU PERFECT
After nine months in my Red Tent, I was nudged by my Lady to attend a weekend spiritual workshop, led by my old energy teacher. It had been well over a year since I had been involved with this particular practice, so I was curious how I would react. Well, as soon as I walked in the door, my body felt heavy, tight, and that all-too-familiar pressure to be spiritually impeccable — partly because of my own issues and partly because the energy behind the workshop’s practices smacked of spiritual perfectionism.
That night, after the first day of the workshop, I had a gruesome nightmare: My dog (who in the dream and in real life is a twelve-pound Chihuahua mutt) was being sodomized by a man in an apartment blocks away. I sprinted like the wind to the apartment, broke down the door, forcefully threw the man to the floor, and rescued my dog. I woke up the next morning, realizing through several other telltale signs in the dream (including the rapist’s name) that for my psyche, “the man” represented the perfectionistic spiritual practice I was engaging in at the workshop, and the dog was my feminine body/soul. I immediately thought of a quote from Marion Woodman: “Perfection rapes the soul.”10 Well, it certainly did in dreamtime.
The following afternoon, my dear friend Emily picked me up after the workshop ended and I told her about the dream. She asked if I still went to the workshop the morning after I had the dream. I paused. I had returned to the workshop, even knowing what the dream was about, because part of me didn’t want to create trouble or hurt my teacher’s feelings; part of me wondered if there was still “something spiritual” I could get from the workshop, especially since the practices had helped me so much in the past; part of me thought that since I got the “spiritual” lesson of the dream, I doubted that my physical body actually needed to be removed from that “spiritual” environment. When I realized what I had done, how I had not “protected” my soul/body by physically leaving the workshop, I became upset as I began to realize just how many times I had done this in my past — made myself sit through countless spiritual retreats or meditation classes (or dates or meals or business meetings), when my body/soul knew this was not the right place/practice (or person) for me to be around at this time.
A few hours later, Emily, two other friends, and I took a ferry to Orcas Island, Washington. On the bow of the ferry we, well, exploded with Divine Feminine energy. You know those times that pretty much only happen when you’re hanging out with close girlfriends — when your saucy inner seven-year-old bumps hips with your future I-don’t-give-a-shit-what-anyone-thinks-inner “granny” — and suddenly your world becomes nothing but dirty jokes and ticklish truths, flipping hair and escaping bra straps, hysterical laughter and random body movements that range from skipping to jigging to usually falling on the ground totally …
In Love
As Life.
Well, that happened on the ferry ride to Orcas after that restrictive workshop. I can’t even remember specifics of our conversation, but I do remember Mercedes sharing the title of a future book she wants to write:
Does Embodiment Make My Butt Look Fat?
’Nuff said.
While we were acting like crazy cosmic monkey goddesses making love to the natural world and making fun of our super-serious spiritual lives, I jumped up and down on the ferry’s bow and screamed into the wind and the ocean and the entire Universe:
NOW THIS IS HOW THE LADY ROLLS!!!
And I felt Her rock the entire boat in joyous response:
WHO’S YOUR MAMA?!
After so much time in the Red Tent, I needed to experience the differences between the workshop and the ferry, between my previous, more spirit-addicted practices and teachers and my new more soul-based, er, “practices” and “teachers.” Now, whenever my friends or I encounter a practice or teaching that directly or indirectly emphasizes spiritual perfection or dismisses our feminine body or suppresses the soul, we simply say, “That butt-fucked my dawg.” And we burst out laughing.
TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COSMIC COIN
Now, even though this entire book is dedicated to the Divine Feminine (I’m obviously one of Her hype girls), I want to be clear that She is not better or more important than the Divine Masculine, though She does help people dress (and dance) better. Ideally, we want the D.M. and the D.F. to get Married, have three kids, and adopt a dog.
The Divine Masculine and the Divine Feminine go together like peanut butter and jelly, dark chocolate and Red wine, the sun and the earth, a king and a queen, a God and a Goddess, J.C. and M.M. They are two sides of the same cosmic coin (guess which one is heads, and which one is tails?).
We need to know, embrace, and unleash both the Divine Masculine and the Divine Feminine (the D.M. has been just as screwed by patriarchy as the D.F.). However, because the D.F. is so often overlooked or discounted, most of us — especially those of us who practice or are exploring traditional, New Age, or mainstream spirituality and have a female body this time round — need to focus on the D.F. a bit (or a lot) more consciously in order to even out the playing field.
Let Her Out to Play!