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Last night I went to an event for women speakers. The group helps women find and share their voice. Totally my jam!

I noticed something within my first minutes of sitting there waiting for it to officially begin. With so much feminine energy in the room and me being a bit nervous, I had a strong pull to lean into my masculine energy – my comfort zone. I made a decision to not allow that to happen, not let my comfy masculine energy take hold.

This afforded me one of the most valuable lessons I’ve received on my exploration of my divine feminine.

As you’ll recall from a previous post, it’s been a struggle for me to dive into my own feminine energy. This made sense considering my background, my family and the culture I grew up in, but there was a missing piece to this puzzle that has now moved into place.

It didn’t come until I was about two hours into the event, having observed several women give their talks. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window and was surprised with the reflection. Though I sat there as my 32-year old self, with long dark hair and donning youthful attire, it wasn’t a young woman looking back at me. The image in the glass was that of a quiet, weathered, kind grandmother.


My struggle to connect with my own feminine nature wasn’t completely due to traits or conditioning!

I had been exploring it under the assumption that the feminine divine would show up as my current age. It never occurred to me that I’ve been feminine all along, but with traits of a different age – still very feminine nonetheless though.


Immediately, another recent (and strange) experience made total sense.

While at a women’s retreat earlier this month, I sat next to a new friend of mine at an unofficial afterparty where people drank merrily, made earthy jokes and sang karaoke. My new friend, Adrienne is in her eighties and is legit badass in a quiet, reserved way. She and I sat on a loveseat watching the raucous festivities. Another woman, Savannah, walked over and shared how perfect the two of us looked sitting there. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about us as a pair struck her. Adrienne and I smiled and continued enjoying the party.

Now I understand what Savannah couldn’t put her finger on! She perceived the same woman whose reflection I caught in the window – the loving, time-worn grandmother who was happy to witness the joy of others and share in their fun (in her own way).

As I write this, countless other examples spring to mind. For the sake of this post, I won’t share them here, but it is refreshing to have new glasses with which to look through.

Of course I can also see plenty of signs of the maiden and mother in me as well, and I know I will continue to carry all three on my adventures.

This may sound like a simple revelation or even a silly one. For me it is a comfort to be affirmed, once again, that I’m not broken or wrong only different, and that is wonderful.


Have you ever thought about feminine and masculine in terms of age? I’d love to hear about your experience!

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