The Spiral

A reflection for Women’s Day

For a long time I believed my strength lived in endurance.

In being capable.

Resilient.

Able to withstand whatever life placed on my shoulders.

And I can.

But lately a quieter truth has begun to move through me.

I no longer feel the need to be everything.

To do everything.

To prove that I can carry the whole weight of the world on my own.

There is a particular kind of tiredness that comes from living that way.

Not a tiredness in the muscles, but somewhere deeper, behind the ribs.

The fatigue of always being alert.

Always managing.

Always anticipating what might fall apart if I loosen my grip.

My masculine strength has served me well. It protected the younger version of me who did not always feel safe in the world. It organized, solved problems, pushed forward when things were uncertain.

I honour that strength. Truly.

But strength worn for too long becomes armour.

And armour, eventually, becomes heavy.

What is emerging in me now is not weakness.

It is a different kind of strength.

One that is fluid rather than rigid.

One that flows instead of endures.

A strength that is fueled by trust instead of constant vigilance.

The spiral of feminine wisdom does not move in straight lines. It softens, deepens, circles back, reveals new layers.

And lately I feel myself stepping into that spiral more consciously.

I am learning that I do not need to “do it all”.

That pattern pulls me into hypervigilance and overperformance, into a life lived in constant readiness.

Instead, I am remembering something older.

That the right allies exist.

Some are already in my life.

Some are still on their way.

Life was never meant to be carried alone.

The feminine in me does not ask for more endurance.

She asks for space.

For breath.

For the courage to soften.

And softening does not make me bland or passive.

It reveals a deeper truth.

The true wisdom of my feminine nature is not quiet obedience.

It is penetrative truth.

A clarity that cuts through illusion.

A voice that refuses to be muffled.

I am not meant to be only love and light.

I am also the daughter of the Moon.

The moon knows darkness.

She knows tides, instinct, shadow, mystery.

She moves through phases without apology.

There is a feral wisdom in that rhythm.

And that wisdom lives in me.

For a long time parts of this nature felt dangerous to show. Intuition that sees through things. The ability to feel the invisible layers moving beneath what is spoken.

Many women know this story. Our history is full of it. Times when intuitive knowing was called madness, when priestesses were cast out of temples, when women who spoke with the unseen were burned at the stake.

Even now I sometimes catch myself diminishing my own perception.

Saying something like:

“I just have this feeling… or maybe I’m just crazy.”

But I am done telling that story.

My intuition is not a flaw.

It is part of my inheritance.

The mystic in me does not need to hide anymore.

The priestess in me does not need to pretend she only believes in the material world.

I can move in both.

I honour the unseen.

And I stand fully inside the tangible world as well.

I am not merely a bridge between them.

My roots are planted in both soils.

The invisible and the material meet here, in the body, in this life.

And perhaps this is what the feminine path looks like for me now.

Not being everything.

Not holding everything.

But being present inside the spiral of truth that keeps unfolding.

Speaking when something is false.

Trusting the quiet knowing of the body.

Allowing softness without abandoning strength.

Letting armour fall, piece by piece.

And today, on this day that celebrates women, my thoughts also turn outward.

To the courageous, brilliant, wild and honest women in my life.

Women who show up each day with their raw truth.

Women who refuse to shrink their voices.

Women who hold tenderness and ferocity in the same breath.

I bow to you.

Your presence matters more than you know.

You remind me that womanhood is not a role we perform, but a living force moving through us all in different ways.

For that, I am deeply grateful.

And as for me, I step further into this spiral.

Less armour.

More truth.

More trust in the ancient wisdom that lives in my bones.

I am not here to endure life.

I am here to live it.

As a woman.