The mosses are thick with Spring’s coming … they horde themselves in great colonies along the ridges of the exposed quartz veins near the western wall … to the great forest they abide within they are a diminutive aspect … yet their canopy harbors a world only a changeling holds the riddle tongue to … nearby blooms a hillside spread of Aud Man’s Bells spread out just shy of a phaery’s foot apart … and as far as one’s eyes can see … neon purple nodding nectar fountains … their blue eyed blossoms hanging heavy with the first feast for the army of Bumble Bees since last fall … they are amassed around the perimeter of the great circle surrounded with wild bleeding hearts … Dutchman’s Britches … the pink of infancy still upon them … the Queen butterfly passes by in pairs pausing to sip from the flower fountains before being on her way … 7 more words
Tags » Sacred
#MenstrualNarratives: The Story of Neelam (38yo, Los Angeles (USA) ): "She told me that the first three days I was considered impure and couldn't go to the temple or touch the altar in our home. This information didn't really jive with my new found superpowers, but I didn't say anything."
304 more words
My mom is an obgyn so I grew up with her magazines laying about and her speaking to patients over dinner about vaginal discharge. Still, I felt unprepared.
Choice. World Heritage. Poetry in a fluid, landscape. Sacred power spot. Old Japan. Countryside.
None of these beckons one to Kumano like a need to be in a place where others have gathered, for thousands of years, for more reasons than bargain sales, bucket lists and multi-day concert festivals. 220 more words