I love being female. Okay, so a few times in my life when witnessing how linear, direct and seemingly easy things (and promotions) were for men, I may have said I wished to be a guy … for a day! But as I have matured I am actually in awe of the great gift and blessing that it is to be female.

I love the expression of the creative aspect of life-giving, the receptivity and creativity, the actual physical womb and the more esoteric, spiritual womb that I carry as female. I love my predisposition to listen and honor, witness, understand, nurture others. I love the soft curves of my body. I love that as female I come from a strong lineage of birthers, healers, givers, breast feeders, ancient and modern priestesses, stewards, care takers.

I love being female. I love carrying seeds of all kinds within my being. Like a giant, primordial, ripe, gorgeous pomegranate. Seeds of wishes, seeds of dreams, seeds of visions for myself, my family and also for others. I love being able to tend to myself and to others with deep compassion. I love slowing things down and breathing deeply as I take my first warm sip of the day, as I look into another’s eyes, as I sit at my altar to pray and light that first stick of incense. I love my connection with water and womb and moon and scents and flowers.

In this lifetime my being female began physically with my mother. At just 23, she took a chance and decided she wanted to have a child. She had a daughter! It continued with my grandmothers who rejoiced in my arrival, sang me songs, told me stories and witnessed me as unique, beautiful, dear. It went on with my aunties who celebrated and loved me, warned me and gave advice as I grew older, were proud of my successes and tried to protect me when I got in trouble.

My being female continues today as I move in a sacred circle of others, like me, all around the world. We are sisters, friends, leaders, inspirers, role models, visionaries, doers, doulas, writers, healers. And on the other side of the veil, the potency of my being female calls forth lines upon lines of females, ancestors, kindred spirits. I see them, right behind me, dressed in white, holding white candles, watching. Guarding my back whenever I close my eyes in prayer, whenever I need support, whenever I remember.

I love the built-in opportunity to transform that my being female affords me. From innocent damsel to fruitful mother, to wise elder, witnesser, teacher, crone. The ripening of my being and the necessary letting go which are part of this sacred process of becoming. They teach so much about relationship, about exchange, about life.

I love being female and having within me all that I need to live, to grow, to love, to nurture, to heal, to dream, to give myself pleasure and to remember sisterhood. To remember healing. To remember joy.