Starseeds: An update on the Divine Feminine / Sacred Masculine

one of us is crying. One of us needs to journey.

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I broke down in tears this morning in the middle of sex with my partner.

I had crawled into bed with him late the night before, getting home from a (sober) rave where all the good dance-therapy takes place.

He had been soooo happy to have me in bed with him.
I felt safe and at home in his arms.
When we awoke the next morning, I was tired; my body knew it. I had gotten 5 hours of sleep, max. Not terrible (I hear the parents out there rolling their eyes), but as a deeply neurodivergent woman who depends on sleep to keep her basic systems functioning, I could tell I would need to tread gingerly today.

My partner, conversely, was well-enough rested and desired me deeply.
It feels so beautiful to be desired by someone, to have them want to share a connection of intimacy with you that exchanges beyond body and moves into the heart and spirit.

I didn’t want to have sex. The first voice I heard inside my head was young, little. “I’m too tired,” it said. “I’m too sleepy.” Ignoring this voice, I continued to exchange the initial levels of intimacy my partner and I share: kissing, touching, embracing. I was tired, and my body was exhausted from a night of being out in the world as a healer at a rave.
We are always working, you know. As healers. It is our path and purpose to help the people, and so we do. No matter the form, shape or context of the situation. We are here to aid.

I live in an unsual living situation, where my space is not entirely mine and is shared with a highly reactive (loving) dog who barks if I come home late at night. Not wanting to disturb my housemate, I opted not to sleep alone, which would have been the wisest call for my energy, and instead went over to my partner’s place. I woke up needing to recover my body for me — and I knew it deeply. Despite my initial feelings and the voice inside my head, I allowed things to continue to escalate.

When my lover descended with his mouth to my yoni, I was getting mixed signals. I wasn’t really enjoying myself; but I wasn’t hating it. It would feel nice to have the sexual release — a night of dancing and moving the Energies with the collective brings up a lot. I was sticking it out for that — not really engaged in the pleasure — but instead above my body, bearing witness to it.

As he ascended and went to enter me, I realized with a wave of feeling that I was dissociating. I was focusing on the parts that I found pleasurable — the feel of his skin, the warmth of his embrace, the gentle compression of his body against mine. I was trying to ignore the penetration, the entering of the sacred temple of my body. How could he not know I wasn’t into it? Meanwhile, my body betrayed me. I got wetter and wetter; I could hear the sounds come out of my mouth, my breathing deepening. It did feel good, objectively — I love my partner deeply; but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want this exchange at this time.

I was on the brink of pausing him, asking him to stop — when I could feel myself rising. Damn. My body is deeply attuned to pleasure and can rise towards orgasm in all sorts of situations. Besides, I loved my partner, and wanted the release — so I allowed it to happen.

The orgasm was short; stunted — it felt hollow and meaningless. When we went to change positions, I was disconnected, bored. Waiting for it to end, so we could get back to the intimacy and feelings of closeness that come after. The shift in position was enough to knock me into action. Instead of pleasure; physical pain. I gently put my hand on his hips. “Do you want to switch?” He asked. I nodded. I didn’t want to give up on the experience. I had orgasmed, he had not. It didn’t seem fair. “Do you want to go on top?” he asked. I said yes, and we switched over. I climbed on top of him, and leaned into his body and scent.

I then began to cry.

I was crying for everything. Crying for the pain and suffering of all women, every day. Crying for the injustice of it all; the insanity. Crying for the fact that the porn industry still exists and that everyday boys and men learn from society that we are things; not people.

We are things. Conquests to succeed in, prizes to show off. Things to consume, to observe, to self-pleasure to, to use. I cried for all those young, beautiful women dancing at the rave thinking they were expressing themselves when really they were dancing out their wounds. Some of their movements screamed “come get me; f** me; don’t you want me baby?” when really all they were trying to do was dance. The echoes of programming punctuating their movement.

I wanted to share my feelings through voice with my partner; I wanted to scream. But when I opened my mouth I found I couldn’t find the words.
“I just want it all to change,” I mumbled. “What?” He asked gently. “Everything. The porn industry. Everything”.

I am tired.

I am tired as a woman, I am tired as healer, I am tired as an educator who is advocating for the humanity of her and her sisters. I’m tired of the Sugar boys and men have been fed for centuries in the form of porn, advertising, masculinity.
I’m tired of having to explain when men are thinking they’re on our side and cheering us on when really they’re admiring the success of us as a sideshow. I’m tired of sports contracts for women being more about modelling than athletics. I’m tired of talking about it.

The funny thing is, we need the help of the Masculine. Every man and embodied masculine energy out there, we need the help of. If we could have gotten there on our own: as sisters, as mothers, as friends — we would be there already. But we do not hold the keys to the palace of structure and contemporary collective thought. We only hold the keys to ourselves.

And so this is a battle cry from me — one siren wailing for backup. One valkyrie calling for help.

We are in need of Help from the masculine. We need you to stop; pause; take a look at yourselves. Investigate your loneliness or your past failed relationship. Investigate your thought patterns and unconscious beliefs. Investigate your social circles.
Where are there comments, thoughts, opinions that you ‘just let slide?’ Where are there aspects of your relationships in which you don’t understand why it took the path it did?
Do you love yourself? Truly?
Or deep down, do you think you deserve no better?

We are embracing an era of conscious men. We are on the tipping point of the conscious, embodied Masculine outnumbering the unconscious, toxic sprawl of dormant masculinity. The feminine will hold space for the masculine in this process. There is nothing braver than turning towards the depths of yourself, investigating your shadows and raising them gently into light. There is nothing more sexy than conquering your patterns and programmed areas of belief. There is nothing more powerful than a voice that will help us ring the chimes of a changing tide. The feminine needs his help.
She needs his honour, his courage, his clear and open eyes.

We are calling for you.

We need you.

Rise, and deprogram your minds and beliefs. We are desperate for it.