The Dance That Remembers Us

feminine power, sacred polarity, & the healing crucible of love

There is a knowing that lives deep in the body—a rhythm older than words, more fluid than thought. It speaks through breath, through beauty, through the aching openness of being alive. And yet, many of us forget. Or we’re taught to forget. We grow up learning how to perform strength, how to stay safe, how to keep ourselves from being too much or too tender. But the feminine doesn’t forget. She waits.

When the feminine felt unsafe

For much of my early life, I lived in opposition to Her.

I didn’t know that’s what I was doing, of course. It just seemed natural to push against anything that looked like traditional femininity. Like many modern women shaped by feminist culture, I felt I had to be strong in a way that meant armoring myself. I avoided sharing my feelings too fully. I shaved my head. I didn’t let myself wear anything that felt truly beautiful. I associated beauty with danger, softness with exposure, flow with chaos. And maybe, underneath it all, I sensed how deeply the feminine had been disrespected, violated, and feared in the world—and I didn’t want to be that vulnerable. It felt fundamentally unsafe. I didn’t yet have a model for feminine power that wasn’t either performative or repressed.

At the time, my spiritual practice mirrored this internal stance. It was ascetic, empty, rooted in presence and stillness—the pure witness. I became very good at dropping into that silent space. It was a profoundly masculine approach to the divine: clean, clear, and a little cold. It offered stability, but not aliveness. And the part of me that longed to dance, to feel, to express, was buried.

The dance of polarities

As I look back now, I see that my early practice—ascetic, quiet, deeply focused on presence—was an expression of the masculine current within me. In the framework I’ve come to work with, the masculine is the energy of emptiness, stillness, consciousness, and containment. He offers presence, clarity, and structure. He is the Logos—the ordering word, the clarity of divine structure. The feminine, by contrast, is the energy of movement, matter, emotion, and life force. She is flow, expression, intuition, sensuality. She is Eros—the longing of divine movement.

Where the masculine penetrates with presence, the feminine responds with energy. Presence evokes energy. Energy inspires presence. And when these forces meet in sacred exchange, a holy alchemy unfolds—something new is born.

This polarity runs through many mystical traditions. In Christianity, Christ is Logos, and the soul is the desiring Bride. In Tantra, Shiva is stillness, and Shakti is energy. They are not opposites, but lovers. Presence and longing. Consciousness and creation. Through their union, the world unfolds.

This dance goes beyond gender—it’s about the primal forces that move through all of us, and the relational current they generate in intimacy, creativity, and communion with the divine. Whether someone identifies as a woman, a man, trans, non-binary, or beyond gender altogether, both of these energies live within us. Our wholeness comes in listening for what balance wants to emerge in us now. In different moments, in different relationships, we may hold different poles. And often, the most transformative growth comes when we turn toward the pole we’ve resisted, repressed, or learned to fear—the one we’ve left unclaimed, but secretly long to remember.

Opening the door

I didn’t understand any of this at the time. I just knew something was missing. And then, a doorway began to open when I read The Surrendered Wife by Laura Doyle, a book that stirred something I didn’t even know was there. It was the first time I really encountered the idea that men and women—or perhaps more accurately, masculine and feminine beings—are different. That intimacy could be built not just through sameness, but through polarity. That surrender might not mean giving up my power, but inviting a deeper kind of union.

I was so struck I read it twice in a row.

Her work spoke of the power of softening, of honoring difference, of inviting intimacy through letting go of control. And it was a revelation. I began practicing listening more deeply to men, letting silence stretch instead of rushing to fill the space. I started to notice how offering vulnerability instead of reasoning could create connection. And yet, there was something slightly rigid, unnatural about it all, like I was trying on someone else’s dress. I found myself repeating phrases and techniques rather than allowing a genuine flowering to unfold from within. There was a subtle current of manipulation - I was behaving in a certain way in hopes of creating a certain outcome, rather than moving from authentic aliveness. It was a beginning—but not the whole path.

A deeper layer emerged when I found the work of Alison Armstrong. Her books, The Queen’s Code and Keys to the Kingdom, offered something I didn’t know I needed: reverence. A reverence for the unique ways the masculine moves through the world. She helped me understand men not as flawed women, but as beings designed differently, beautifully. Through her lens, I began to honor the gifts of masculine presence, direction, and devotion. I stopped expecting sameness and began cultivating appreciation. Her work softened me, and also strengthened my respect—for others and for myself.

But it wasn’t until I began studying Tantra with Nina Lombardo that all this came home to my own body. In Nina’s groups, I learned about polarity not just as concept or state, but as an active practice. The feminine, I came to see, is not just a quality—it’s an energy we tend, an embodiment we grow into. I learned to feel the fullness of my emotional body without collapsing. I danced through my rage, let my tears fall without apology, let desire pulse through me without shame. I practiced allowing life to move me—fiercely, softly, wholly.

I was witnessed in my sensuality, my wildness, my sorrow, my radiance. And something ancient in me began to reawaken.

I saw how much of my life force I had shut down in the name of being “not too much.” I had kept myself small to feel safe. But in those Tantric circles, alongside other women, I learned to be the invitation. Not the performance of femininity, but the raw, magnetic power of a woman who is fully alive. Not passive, but receptive. Not compliant, but open.

And there’s another truth I’ve come to recognize—one that many spiritual teachings overlook when they speak of feminine receptivity: the feminine also gives. She gives energy, nourishment, and beauty. She inspires. Her expression of life-force, in its fullness, awakens the masculine. Her openness, her feeling, her radiance—they magnetize and draw presence toward her. And that magnetism begins with desire.

One of the most important things I’ve learned is that part of the feminine’s sacred responsibility is to know what she wants. To feel her longing. To know what would delight her, nourish her, open her. And then, to express that—not from neediness or control, but from authenticity, from embodied joy.

When the feminine expresses desire clearly and freely, without expectation or manipulation, it becomes like a lighthouse. Her desire illuminates the horizon. It gives the masculine something to move toward. It inspires him into motion. Into creation. Into devotion.

This is part of the sacred dance: the feminine feels and reveals. The masculine witnesses and responds. But it all begins with honest desire—with a woman being so deeply in touch with her body, her energy, her truth, that she can say: “This is what I would love.” And then, release it. Trust. Wait. Receive.

For me, this was a practice. Learning how to name what I truly wanted, not what I thought I was supposed to want, and not in a way that tried to coerce an outcome. Just naming it. Letting it be heard. Softening into the vulnerability of that. And in doing so, I noticed how it energized the field around me. How it drew in aligned responses—without force.

To know our desires is to know our aliveness. And to express them is to offer the masculine a path forward—not as demand, but as inspiration.

Learning to receive

And then came the real initiation: learning to receive the masculine.

This was perhaps the most confronting part of all.

In Somatic Experiencing sessions with male practitioners—men who were deeply attuned, deeply present—I came face-to-face with how terrified I was to be seen, truly seen, by the masculine. Their presence was non-invasive, gentle, and steady. And yet my body would flinch, retreat, avoid. It was too much. Too intimate. Too exposing.

But slowly, I began to stay. To let it in. There was one practitioner in particular who would sit across from me, eyes closed, but fully with me—his presence like a still river, holding everything. And in that space, I began to feel what it meant to be met. I began to allow his attention to land in my body. I began to receive without needing to earn or explain. And that changed everything.

Encountering the divine

These teachings and practices opened my body and mind, but it was in the depths of my inner work that I encountered something unexpected—a spiritual dimension to this feminine awakening. As I became more receptive in my physical and emotional body, I found myself becoming more receptive to Spirit as well.

As I opened myself to the possibility of receiving this deep presence, I encountered Jesus—not as a figure of religion, but as the most luminous masculine presence I had ever felt. His love was unyielding in its piercing gentleness. His gaze saw everything in me and held it in unshakable compassion. In Him, I felt what it meant to be utterly known and still utterly loved.

And I wept. And I softened. And I let Him in.

That presence, the masculine Christ, began to reshape me. I felt the divine masculine not just as an idea, but as an energetic reality—pure presence, unwavering love, holy penetration. And in its embrace, I felt a new kind of creativity begin to stir. Like Mary, I felt what it means to say yes to God. To be filled, not just with feeling, but with purpose. To allow Spirit to take root in my womb—not just metaphorically, but mystically. And to nourish that life into being.

It’s not always dramatic, the way this has changed me. Sometimes it’s just in the way I breathe now, in the way I listen, in the way I create. But the inner shape of my soul has shifted. I carry Him with me. That encounter didn’t stay in the solitude of prayer—it began to shape the way I moved through the world

In conversations where I would have once pushed my ideas with intellect and logic, I now share from a place of embodied knowing—that same vulnerable receptivity I found in my encounter with divine presence. I express my desires with genuine enthusiasm rather than strategic convincing. In response, the energy in the room shifts. People lean in. What follows isn't just agreement, but collaborative inspiration—as if my willingness to be moved by Spirit now invites others into their own aliveness. This is feminine leadership transformed by divine encounter: not dominating through force, but catalyzing through authentic presence.

Sacred Partnership

In my current partnership with a man rooted in deep practice and sacred presence, I am learning even more fully what it means to be in this dance. Our relationship is not a performance of roles—it is an invitation into mutual devotion. He holds presence with a steadiness that lets my feminine rise. I offer energy that inspires and enlivens him. And in that sacred polarity, we create together—not just in art or intimacy, but in our lives.

There is more music. More poetry. More beauty. More joy.

There is a sacred generativity that spills over into our work, our friendships, our world.

And yet, the beauty of our connection isn’t found in fixed roles—it’s found in the fullness we each bring. While he often holds the masculine pole, his inner feminine is deeply alive, and he invites me to hold him in my presence, too. There’s a fluid dance between us, one that allows us to embody our wholeness while consciously choosing polarity in moments of intimacy, creativity, or devotion. It becomes a kind of sacred art—a living flame we tend together.

The alchemy of devotion

Within that flame, a potent alchemy unfolds—because in the field of sacred polarity, nothing stays hidden. The masculine, when fully rooted in presence, sees everything without flinching—not with judgment, but with unwavering stillness. The feminine, when fully alive, feels everything and expresses it—not to fix it, but to let it move. Together, these two forces generate a field that gently flushes out the hiding places. Old wounds rise to the surface—not to shame us, but to be seen, felt, and healed. In the presence of real love and mutual devotion, what might have once ruptured a bond now becomes the very ground of our deepening into love.

This relationship has been the crucible for the most dramatic and beautiful healing of my life.

It is not always easy, but it is alive.

And that, to me, is the essence of the feminine—aliveness in devotion, in movement, in mystery, in truth, in love.

Reclaiming her power

I no longer believe the feminine is about being low-maintenance, agreeable, or pleasing.

I no longer believe she is chaotic or broken.

I no longer see receptivity as weakness.

Now I know: the feminine is magnetic, embodied, luminous.

She is the pulse of longing and the power of creation.

She receives—but she also gives. She inspires, transforms, and creates.

She carries the capacity to feel the sorrow of the world and still give birth to something new.

She is not a role to perform, but a presence to remember.

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Invitations to practice

If you feel called into this feminine remembering, here are some invitations from my own path—not as prescriptions, but as gentle openings to dance with:

Let yourself be seen. Ask a trusted friend to sit in stillness and witness you - not as a polished version, but as you truly are. Let your tears fall. Let your desire rise. Let yourself growl in rage. Let your radiance be witnessed without needing to perform.

Let yourself be moved. Dance without choreography. Cry without explanation. Feel your emotions as waves that bring you home to the body.

Cultivate your inner masculine. Practice showing up for yourself with presence. Create rituals and boundaries that hold you. Let structure become your prayer—so that your feminine can safely pour into the space you've made for her, not in chaos or collapse, but in flowing devotion.

Practice receiving. Welcome the presence of another. Let someone’s attention land in your body. Receive compliments and gifts without deflecting, justifying, or shrinking - simply breathe, and feel. Let it open you.

Say yes to God. Invite the divine to fill you—not as a concept, but as a real and holy presence. Let this Yes plant seeds of creativity in your being. Let your life become the womb for what Spirit longs to bring forth through you.

There is a dance waiting for you.

And the music is already playing.

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If you feel called to live in deeper surrender—rooted in trust, guided by grace—I’d love to support you. My one-on-one coaching and somatic therapy sessions offer a space to slow down, heal old patterns, listen deeply, and align your life with what’s most sacred—so you can be more fully present in your relationships, your work, and your connection to the Divine.

If that resonates, you can begin the conversation here.