The Awakening Of The Divine Woman

She’s coming into her power.

She spent years not realizing who she was.
She doubted her beauty, her intelligence and her power.
She was one who always felt that she didn’t quite belong
because when she came into this life, her ties to the world of spirit remained far too strong..

She was confused and lost throughout her youth, unable to see herself much less accept and appreciate herself.
As a result she was like a ship bobbing in the ocean without a rudder and without the sails of confidence to direct her towards her own promised land.

She was one who bereft of her own acceptance, hungered for it and searched for it through relationships with others.
She was a people pleaser as a result,
she would not risk confrontation in order to support herself,
she succumbed to being influenced by the opinions of others even though she had already received her instruction from within.
She allowed her truth to be sublimated,
she allowed herself to be controlled.
Her need to be accepted and loved was such that she wasn’t prepared to step on or over any toes.

It took her years of being taken for granted,
ruled and overlooked before she put two and two together,
had enough and got the message.
Her suffering forced her to step out of the status quo that had always been too tight for her in the first place…
she became an avid seeker, searching for answers…
She needed to know who she was, she needed to know why she was here.
She needed to find a way to free herself from fear

She traveled far and wide,
She sat at the feet of a master,
She became a Yogini of an ancient lineage
and applied the teachings to her life,
She grew strong,
She awakened her heart
She awakened her shakti,
Her third eye opened as a result;
Her potentials started to be unearthed rapidly because the veils had parted and she recognized who she was,
She also recognized who everyone else was behind their socialized facade
and because she had seen through the myth of idealized perfection,
she could appreciate the actual perfection of the imperfections in herself and in others that she had once resisted and rejected.

Today she walks with conscious awareness;
she no longer labels people as good or bad,
She interprets everything as fluctuating energy without a fixed assignment.
She holds space for the confusion of others because she’s been there and she still visits that place herself
she understands their hunger for love misappropriated as selfishness, jealousy and competition.
She feels their vulnerability as she feels her own;
She knows the fear reflected in their eyes through her own past terror
But underneath all of it she can see the obscured light,
the presence of God/dess despite all the protective armor.
She’s aware of this same divine presence vibrating in her body and in her heart;
She’s not so quick to cast judgment anymore because she knows that she is not above those that she is tempted to judge…
she knows that she is not separate
And because she gives herself permission to be herself as she is,
she can accept others as they are with appreciation and compassion.

She’s not invested in changing anyone either,
she respects everyone’s chosen path because
she understands that every soul is doing exactly what they need to do in order to evolve
So it is not her place to save anyone from their own lessons.
She reveals, heals, inspires and encourages instead,
she reminds others of their forgotten divinity;
She holds up a mirror so that they can see God/dess reflected back.
She has become a midwife for the re-emergence of the Divine Feminine soul.

The shy, timid maiden has transformed into the courageous, outspoken mother of all.
She says it as she sees it confidently without shrinking back,
She’s fiercely protective of the helpless,
She’s A torch for those lost in darkness,
and she’s not afraid to take a stand for peace and love to flourish in this world;
if someone tries to persuade her against her own knowing she simply and graciously responds, “Thank you for sharing.”
and she walks away-
Because she trusts her “self”,
She knows that she is Divine Mother embodied.

She is Artemis of the wild merged with
compassionate Tara and warrior Durga;
She has traversed the journey of Inanna into the dark underworld and emerged in possession of her kingdom
She knows why she is here and she’s fulfilling her purpose.
She’s not alone, she’s among many
who have chosen to return bearing love as their message,
their path and their gift of healing. ॐ


© Caroline de Lisser

Courtesy: Sageword

The Importance Of Rest


One of the good things about having hypothyroidism and crashed adrenals as a result of autoimmune disorder is I have learned the importance of rest. Before now, rest meant nothing to me. Naps were for toddlers, the elderly and losers. I would push myself to the absolute limit and beyond, and quip that “I’ll rest when I’m dead!”. Busy-ness was my badge of honor. I prided myself on how little sleep I needed, how fast, strong, smart and capable I was. Regardless the circumstances, I would always manage to land on my feet.

This time, life had it in for me. I landed on my back, in bed, unable to get up. For two months with limited mobility, I lay there, crying, anxious, berating myself for my inability to be (what I considered ) “normal”. Why didn’t I feel well? Why as I so weak? Why was I so useless? The rent was paid and there was food in the cupboards, but I chose instead to focus on the sink filled with dishes and the piles of laundry on the floor. My children were both well cared for despite my illness, and in turn were very loving and forgiving toward me when I could not get up and cook their favorite meals, or go outside like they wanted me to, but I chose to be unforgiving toward myself. It took four agonizing months for me to realize all I needed to do to heal myself was to let it all go and rest.

sab·bath |ˈsabəTH/ 

Old English, from Latin sabbatum, via Greek from Hebrew šabbāṯ, from šāḇaṯ ‘to rest.’

The thing about this world is that we glorify busy-ness. Stress Worry Woman with Text on White

Everyone’s read the humble-brag facebook posts about how busy everyone is and how many hours of work they’ve put in and how little they’ve slept and how much coffee they’ve drank and just how successful they feel they are going to be.

We are told that rest is for the weak; sleep is for the lazy. We are taught to keep late nights and force early mornings, encouraged to endure long work days fueled by carbohydrates and caffeine, in the promise that success as defined by the masses will be waiting for us.

As a result, we often neglect our health, relationships, families, and live at such a pace that by the time we have amassed the wealth and lifestyles we have spent our entire lives chasing, we lack the vitality to enjoy it. Being ill this time around really was an eye opener for me. I could no longer live a life fueled by unhealthy stress. I would no longer drive the struggle bus. For all my hard work, I was no longer strong. I could feel myself losing muscle tone. Even though I slept 12 hours everyday, I would wake up exhausted and weak. Everything had to change.

The thing about illness and dis-ease is that it is most usually cured by rest.


I hired a Life Coach, because I knew I could no longer afford to struggle alone. After consulting with my doctors and joining a few support groups, I changed my diet- no more caffeine, no more gluten. Most importantly, I changed the course of my life, the direction of my thoughts, desires and outcomes. In time, I learned to let go of the ideas of things like “fear”, “struggle” and “failure”, and began to trust that the universe was, at all times, collaborating with me to create the reality I believe I will have. Finally realizing that I have the permission of the universe to succeed, I decided to rest. I released my worries and fears and decided that I was going to believe that I was taken care of. Slowly, I began to see a change in my physical and mental health.

Today, I am a much more relaxed, happier version of myself. My confidence is growing and I am able to get out and exercise- not a whole lot, but enough to keep me moving and pain free. I pay attention to my nutrition, and listen to my body. I take naps, happily! I make sure to get enough sleep- 12 hours a night most nights, but never fewer than five hours. I respect my body and its limits, and understand that quality sleep is an important part of self-love and self-care.

I have let go of fear. Today, Love is my source. I try my best to be aware of when I am making decisions out of fear, and choose instead to make decisions out of gratitude and love. The sum total of these actions help me to remain in a calm, joyful, worry-free, drama-free state where “rest” is my main goal. I still have a ways to go to get back to baseline where my physical health is concerned, but for now, I am grateful for the lessons learned.


Relevant Reading:

11 Surprising Health Benefits of Sleep

Why sleep is important and what happens when you don’t get enough

Why Is Sleep Important

thoughts of a goddess- Self Healing


Healing will come from a much deeper self love and appreciation. It will require you to forgive everything that keeps you connected to your past pain.

To forgive does not mean to forget. 

It means to take your power back and release emotional bonds that drain you of your vitality. Healing will come when you start appreciating yourself.

You are enough. You are perfect.


 Stop comparing yourself to others. Competition drains an incredible amount of energy which can be used for healing.

You are not a failure.

Stop complaining. Stop gossiping.

Healing will take your full emotional investment. Release any activity that keeps you in a negative state. Instead, clear your thinking and allow only loving thoughts to enter your mind. Speak of and to yourself with utmost kindness and love. Healing will happen spontaneously.

Original words by Josie Grouse. Find Josie on facebook, twitter, instagram, and youtube.

Thoughts Of A Goddess- Press On Into Greatness!


‪#‎thoughtsofagoddess‬‪ #‎LoveIsMyReligion‬

We live in a world that tries to destroy kind, beautiful and sensitive people yet praises people who manipulate or do worse in the name of “being successful”.

If you have a great spirit they try to break it
If you have great relationships, they meddle and want to destroy it
If you have a great personality, they gossip hoping they will make you look bad so that others will like you less
If you are intelligent, they try to laugh at you so that you question yourself


Don’t be fooled, nor take any of it personally. You’re not required to go with the status quo. And remember- anytime you wish to stand out and stand up for yourself, the pressure to conform will be great. Push back. That’s your job. Push back and press on into greatness‬.

Summer Love

Wine Out Of Water Summer            Every summer has a love story.

There isn’t anywhere else in the world I want to be during the summer season in the western hemisphere than in New York City. The bright blue skies and warm air do something to my heart that I cannot describe. NYC itself is like a bad lover. Summer swoops in and takes me off my feet; my eyes light up like the stars and I can’t stop grinning madly. It’s enough to make me forget that only six weeks prior I had been shoveling through feet of snowfall to get out of my house, and that a mere twelve weeks from now I will be cursing the cold again as I pull my jacket around me just a little tighter while trying not to lose my life by slipping and falling on black ice. All I can see are the flowers, all I can feel is the warmth, all I want is the salty sea air in my nostrils, music in my ears, and the ability to stand barefooted in the earth. Summer brings me these things. True, I can have this in several other places, and once I tried my best to leave. But living in NYC spoils you for many things. Sucky public transportation that doesn’t actually suck, pizza and gyros at 2AM, and the ability to let go of my inhibitions and simply be myself because this city is huge and no one cares if you cry or wear pajamas or your favorite cosplay on the train because no one is paying that much attention to you …

When New York City calls your name, you come home.

So I returned, the prodigal lover, with all my battle scars in the sweet, sweet summer air, penitent for having left yet grateful for having had the chance.

My most favorite summer in NYC was the summer of 2002. I’d just gotten here from Trinidad where I’d grown up and spent most of my life. I’d gotten a job at a local discount clothing store in the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn, and was living with a family, a mother and her son, whom I had never previously met and to whom I was not related. My days and nights were filled with equal parts excitement and dread. I’d never spent more than a couple nights away from my parents’ home, so being alone and completely on my own with no chance of going back was as terrifying a prospect as it was liberating. I never slept. The sun didn’t ever seem to set completely and Brooklyn was perpetually noisy. I would begin my first semester of university soon but for the moment, I was very small in a very big world I’d only ever seen before on television. I visited the church where I was baptized, went to Mass there and was astonished by the aesthetics of the building and the grounds. I considered trying to find my older sister and her mom, but reconsidered it because I figured they must have moved away from that address by now. I went to work everyday and never called in. On my days off, I would explore as much of the city as I could. I got a subway map and would randomly ride a bus line or the train to the last stop, get out and explore. One of those bus rides got me lost in the neighborhood of Brighton Beach, which is close to the beach, but the bus as I soon discovered doesn’t go directly to the beach, and though I could hear the waves and smell the salt, I couldn’t find the seashore. I got a ride back to Flatbush with a trucker named Chuck (yes, Chuck owned a truck…thank you, peanut gallery!) who gave me his worn out map book of the Five Boroughs, and warned me to never, ever take rides from truckers.

I went to backyard parties and concerts with my coworkers, got my first tattoo, got promoted to “Assistant Floor Manager” (which meant when the Manager went on her extended lunch breaks I got to hold the cordless phone. I also closed the store more often than not because I was the only person who could ever account for every single pair of unsold jeans in the place, thanks to my photographic memory. Apparently “doing inventory” had never been less stressful!). I hung out with that one coworker who lived in Bed-Stuy and whose mother gave her money to buy pot and us permission to smoke and hang out on the fire escape on the condition that we didn’t draw attention to ourselves nor cause the cops to come to her door. I still have no idea how I got home some nights.

Then there was BJ.

Every Summer Has A Story...

He walked into the store one day and upon seeing him I simply couldn’t catch my breath. I hid behind a clothing rack and chided myself for blushing so hard, but I couldn’t help it he was so gorgeous. He saw me hiding awkwardly behind the clothes by the fitting room and sent one of my coworkers over with a piece of paper with his phone number on it and instructions to call him. So I called him that night. We talked for a couple hours and he came by the store again to say “hello” the next day. We had lunch together (this time, I took an extended lunch!), the conversation varying across several topics. I loved his face, his voice, his smile…he was tall, rugged and extremely handsome. He said he was intrigued by me, that he thought I was “cute”. His name was John, but they called him BJ in the streets, which stood for “Black John” but I didn’t need to know why. That summer, John became my black knight.

One night in particular we met up after I got off work and hung out with some of his “boys” on the block. He hoisted me up and placed me to sit on the hood of someone’s car that was parked at the side of the street, and we stayed outside way past midnight drinking malt liquor and talking. Our conversations always seemed to stretch on forever. He put his arms around my waist and began to recite a poem he’d written. Truth be told, I wasn’t listening. I was looking at his lips move but I couldn’t hear the words. Instead, I was aware of everything around me. The rhythm of his voice floated through my body. I felt the warmth of the hood of the car radiating upward through my hips and up my spine. I felt the intermingled warmth and coolness of the summer night breeze flowing through my hair and caressing the back of my neck. I imagined kissing him and felt the strongest case of butterflies I ever remember experiencing. He stopped talking and asked me what I was thinking about and I told him. He smiled, said, “Word?” and nodded his head. That night he walked me home and before he left, he kissed me, right there in the lobby. That night I slept.


Something about BJ drew me in. Somehow, he knew everything about me- that I loved deep, analytical, philosophical conversation, that I enjoyed staying inside and watching movies after work and on the weekends; he knew how to touch me and where and for how long; how to kiss me and where and for how long. He was a thug in the streets with a revolver in his belt, always in the ‘hood uniform- a white t-shirt and blue jeans and white sneaks- but in the apartment behind blackout window shades, he was a boy. I thoroughly adored watching him go from gangsta to lover once company left and the door was closed; he would simply melt in my arms, and I relished every moment of it.

I never asked about his girlfriends even though I heard about them and realized slowly that there were several. I never saw any of them despite being at the apartment with him every time I had a spare moment, and never calling before I showed up. I never asked him what his last name was, nor did I ever find out. He never took his socks off, not even that one time in the shower when he swore he just knew I was going to sneak in there to find out what his feet look like. I never asked him for anything (except repeatedly to see his feet, and he ALWAYS said “No”.), and he never asked me for anything (except to please, get nicer underwear because I still wore “little girl” cotton panties at 20 years old, and he said it made him feel like a pedophile).

It’s as though our souls met in that space and time and simply knew each other- we connected in ways I’d never understood before. I had never experienced that level of intimacy before or after. I always knew, too, that he wasn’t meant to be with me forever. We never argued (except about his feet). I didn’t want to own him and apart from asking me once to move down to Maryland to be with him, he never tried to own me. We were both simply present, in the moment, loving and taking delight in every moment and every little detail about each other. He appreciated my mind and every inch of my body, and I savored being in his presence, hearing the sound of his voice, picking his brain for weird facts and sayings, and lounging in his embrace. That summer, I was drawn to him over and over and over again, and I relished every single instant- every breath with him, every touch, every kiss, every conversation. The last time I saw him was the Thanksgiving break during first semester freshman year when he traveled up from Baltimore and spent one night with me. The next night, before he left to return to MD, he called briefly from some other girl’s phone, “just to say “hi” and I’m thinking of you”. I ended that conversation by saying, “…I just want you to know, I love you.” He replied, “Thank you”.


I’ve never seen or spoken to him since. I sometimes think I dreamed him up. I close my eyes and in an instant I can feel him and hear him again; I’m back in the apartment in 2002, in the armchair, wrapped in his arms with my head on his chest. Whenever I feel the night time summer breeze caress my shoulders, I’m sitting on the hood of that car again, fantasizing about my sweet, sweet Black John, whose voice filled my ears like a Nubian siren.

Sweet Prince of the ghetto…

This summer was one of my first summers as a truly single woman. I made the decision to remain consciously single, and to spend some time consciously loving myself. One of the conversations I had with BJ that has always stuck with me was centered around me learning, understanding and loving myself.

I still remember him asking me, “How can you expect a man to love you when you don’t know how to love yourself? How is he supposed to know what to do to please you when you have no idea how to please yourself? How is he going to give you an orgasm when you don’t know how to give yourself one? He’s not going to know, and you won’t know what to tell him. You have to learn yourself. Learn yourself first and then you’ll have something to teach the world.”


Ironic then, that I never had to tell him anything and yet he seemed to always know what I wanted and needed and with the exception of maybe a couple things, he was an expert in pleasing me. Unconsciously, after that I lived expecting the men in my life to instinctively know what I wanted and demanding that they deliver by reading my mind..or perhaps some novel…or possibly by watching The Notebook & The Time Traveler’s Wife…

I crave the ease of that relationship today, the deep, unspoken connection I felt with him, the way he always left me satisfied- physically, emotionally and spiritually. So many years later, I still remember how being with him made me feel even though I can hardly remember what he looks like. It’s possible that I’ve seen him on the street or on the train since then and completely overlooked my long-ago lover. But I will never forget the way he made me feel, and the conversations that stirred my heart and my passions so many years ago. I will never forget the many, many things he taught me, the secrets he unlocked inside my soul for me to find so many years later.

And this summer, I spent my time and energy loving myself, caring for me- spending time exploring my body and examining my physical, mental and spiritual health, filling my heart in anticipation of meeting my soul partner, the one with whom I will spend the rest of my life- because I know deep within my soul that he is coming. He is the lover of my soul, the one whom my soul loves, and I am excited to meet him. Summer in the western hemisphere may be almost over, but for me, it is just beginning.

Photos courtesy google images

Art by Patsy Stirling, courtesy Sageword on facebook. 

Acknowledging My Own Magic- A Self Contract

I grew up knowing I possessed magic. I could capture audiences and my smile got me anything I wanted. I was a fantastic story-teller and my poetry and plays won awards. Everyone said I was pretty. I would walk into a store and it would be empty. By the time I left it would be filled with people. I always left places and people better off than they were when I met them.
Small things. Ordinary things. Magical things.
But somehow I was convinced I wasn’t allowed to use my magic on myself. Everyone had the right to be happy except me. I could fix everyone’s problems, make everyone happy- indeed, I could change the world if I wanted to- but then I had to be content to come home and subsist on very little, and be humbled and happy even if I were miserable.
I’m 33 and this model does not work for me anymore. It is time to change. Struggling just isn’t my thing anymore. I’m done making lemonade.
Maybe I can use my magic for myself, not because I am greedy or selfish and self-serving, but because I am worth rescuing, and because I possess the ability to rescue myself. There will be no white knight, no super-hero, no prophesied act of a deist god to save the day.
Everything I need is already inside of me. I simply need to acknowledge it. So I changed my future by taking the limits off my mind, by changing my thoughts, my words, my feelings, my actions, and declaring it boldly:
I am a magical goddess. 
Today, I give myself permission to use my magic for myself,
to make myself better,
to raise my vibrations,
to make myself happier,
and by virtue, to allow myself to become more powerful and useful.
I promise to remain open,
to be confident,
to be aware,
to be gracious,
to be generous.
I am an openhearted, confident, aware, generous, joyful, healthy, fit, sexy, magical goddess.

Love Thyself. Because Self Love is the Best Love.

This infographic landed in my facebook timeline and I couldn’t help but share it everywhere possible. It goes without saying, if you can’t love yourself, who can you love? I’ve heard so many confessions over the past week; absolutely wonderful, hard working, high achieving individuals who have a difficult time accepting themselves as they are, and who make daily habits of being hard on themselves to the point of depression.

Maybe it is an indicator of how our society measures “success”, and that hunger to succeed that drives us to self-loathing. At some point it should dawn on us that it is our personal responsibility to learn to be kind to ourselves first.

Appreciation of self and love for self translates into appreciation for and love for the “other”. The directive to “love they neighbor as thyself” hinges on the premise that one loves one’s self. I’m always wary of people who claim to love others but who have no concept of self love. How can you give what you do not have? Maya Angelou said it best when she said,

“I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves and tell me, ‘I love you.’ … There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.”

We owe it to ourselves to learn to love ourselves- truly love ourselves, accepting our “flaws” and our strengths. It is only in so doing that we can ever truly love another. And I should know. I’ve been there too.

I hope you enjoy this infographic as much as I did. Make a mental note on what you can do, what you already do and things you really want to start doing, like, right now. I promise you, you will feel better!

I love you. You should love you too! ❤


We are all love.

One of the things I miss the most from growing up in the 90’s is listening to the “Quiet Storm” music segment on the radio on Sunday evenings. The DJ’s would break out all the love songs and host shout-outs to all the couples- those who wanted to brag about how much they loved each other, and occasionally the ones who wanted (needed?) to apologize and make up.


I grew up with a very romanticized idea of love and relationships. There are moments where I think life has all but knocked those notions out of me, and then there are days like today when I think of how wonderful it was (and still is) to see life through those eyes…believing that anything is possible, and that love is the most wonderful feeling in the human experience.

But more than wanting another human being to love me, or longing for someone to love, I’ve since learned how important it is that I learn to love myself. It is impossible to love others if I do not love myself. If I cannot see the good in myself then I cannot see the good in anyone else- how, then, can I possibly love them?

Love is all around us, folks. We are all love. We are all iterations of the same divine breath. The same spirit that flows through me flows through you, and so it is with every sentient being on this earth. Loving myself does not mean annihilating (what is perceived as) the negative and embellishing (what is perceived as) the positive. It means acknowledging the negative and focusing on the positive. It means knowing who I am- strengths and weaknesses- and accepting myself for exactly who I am. Only then can I see others for who they are and accept them, flaws and all.

#‎Love‬‪#‎SelfLove‬ ‪#‎Eros‬ ‪#‎Agape‬ ‪#‎Philios‬ ‪#‎LetUsSteadfastlyLoveOneAnother‬‪#‎WO2H2O‬

Hope you have a wonderful Sunday night!
Light & Love