New earth has been within us all along, waiting to birth.

My womb and yoni would pulse like a heartbeat, not only during sacred sex, but also when I received wisdom that felt true, or when simply looking at flowers or watching butterflies. My body had an orgasmic response to all of life, not just lovemaking.

Our spirit, which vibrates at a high frequency, must descend into the heart of the matter, so that we can fully experience what it means to be human, and the incredible gifts waiting for us. What a joy it was to realize that our flesh is sacred, not sinful. Our body is the temple.

When we explore deeply into our bodies and release the emotional, energetic, and physical contractions that block the free flowing of our life force, something incredible happens: our aliveness awakens. We feel ourselves fully, maybe for the first time in this lifetime. We realize we are magical, powerful creatures beyond measure, interconnected

Menstruation was a time of psychic opening and renewal for the entire tribe. The gifts of the womb did not belong to women alone; they were a divine blessing for the community, protected and cherished by men as well, whose love and physical union contributed to fertilizing and activating the spiritual “mana” of the women. As recorded by the

A palpable essence, it heals us, touches us, sings to us—love dances with us, dreams with us, and brings our desires into being. It is not an ideal to be reached for or achieved. It is a place of nonachievement, of giving in, letting go, surrendering, of crying tender tears for all those places that still feel hurt, unworthy, unloved. It is a place

Our Mother universe birthed our universe and lives on within our cosmic DNA codes, much as the genetic code of our parents informed the conception and growth of the embryo that grew into who we are today.

Love will always be enveloped in a kind, nurturing Divine softness, even if it is delivering radical truth or fierce compassion or is wild with primordial passion. As a race we have hardened up; love invites us into softness again.

Mother Nut is traditionally pictured holding up the starry firmament, her great back arching over the midnight blue night sky, scintillating with points of starlight (see plate 7). As is typical of the primeval feminine Creatrix, she was associated not just with birth, but with death: her image was traditionally painted on the inside lid of coffins