By the time you’re reading this I’ll be on a flight headed to Philly with my sister and bestie. We’re meeting up with my other sister and friends in the City of Brotherly Love before caravanning to the Women’s March on D.C. where an even larger Sisterhood awaits. We’ll be there with pink pussy hats in hand and open hearts ready to march in solidarity. I get teary eyed just thinking about it. 


I march for my daughter. May she grow up to know equality and justice for all regardless of race, sexual or gender orientation, different abilities and religion.


I march for my mother who at the tender age of 16 lived on her own and forged on raising three independent daughters of her own. She’s one of the strongest most compassionate women I know.


I march for my grandmothers Elizabeth and Violet, both have passed on but live within my heart and whisper though spirit to live out loud.


I’ll march side-by-side and heart-to-heart with my sisters and friends. I’ll march for you.


I march because God’s a Woman too. 


I originally posted this about a year ago and thought I’d bring it back out.




There’s a reclaiming of the feminine happening. Our world has been bathed in mostly masculine for centuries, readying us for the pivot to come.


A resurrection that can redeem the state we’re in. It’s not a guarantee but a promise, if we answer the call.


The feminine is the: connected, fully ecstatic, intuitive, nurturing, knowing, passionate and openly-desirous sexual nature we all have.


She is love and love making. She is creation.


She was contorted into a whore, into something not to be trusted or valued, she was excised from luminous religious texts so as to control those entering the doors, creating followers rather than liberating each from within.


She was burned at the stake, her fertile land pillaged and torn.


She was silenced, beaten and shrouded from head to toe in shame for being who she is when she lets herself be.


She aches.


Oh, how she aches for the lost not realizing that within each is a seed, a spirit, that can help you find your way even when so utterly lost in despair, unsure, and broken down.


The presence of the state of feminine is reflected in the eyes of the world’s women.


It’s a knowing glance that we women have become all too accustomed. We look at our daughters, nieces and friends, hoping for a different future.


For the girls not yet shaped have a chance, we women have a chance until we take our last breath. If we can shake this state off and allow feminine to grace us with her presence, within each of us as we find our tribe and rise ourselves in uplifting others.


We must fight for our rights, our voice, and our fierce love that can permeate the world holding space for change.


We have power, and that’s what this masculine reign dominated; taking others to rise up rather than uplift from empowering within.


We belong to each other and tribe vibe is love.


I keep using feminine and female synonymously, but…


Feminine does not equate to female. I’m going to catch shit for this but until we look directly into the eye of the beast, getting uncomfortable in the process, we’ll not shift into the perspectives and paradigms needed to allow change.


We exist in duality: masculine/feminine,  yin/yang, physical/non-physical. It’s a spectrum.


Equality isn’t tit for tat, it’s allowing the whole. And God’s a woman too, the holy spirit of alchemical feminine.


Equality is the whole expression of the whole being who is part of the whole fucking world as it is.


Until we allow such expression, acknowledging the differences and embrace commonalities in all being human, we’ll be looking to the world with only one eye open.


But we’re given both.


Open your eyes, really look around, take it all in. Then close your blind eyes, peering from the inside out, let insight set you free.


She’s been waiting.