The bliss of the feminine

Last night, as I walked behind my woman, I felt myself fully taking in the moment:

The stars peppering through a cloud-streaked sky

The sound of the gravel crunching under our feet

The sensation of the brisk air against my skin

And the smell of the campfire lingering from our clothes

I would give my life to this woman, and in this moment, I have… she knows it, I’m here… present, with her.

As I take in the solidity of this whole experience, she opens and I hear her begin to sing… it’s a song that speaks to me, a benediction of sorts. 

My masculine is at ease knowing that she is far enough in front of me that she can breathe, and close enough to be at her side within a swooping second. I can see all around her, and feel all around me… at ease in the comfort of visibility. 

Maybe she feels like she is leading (she sings louder)…. Maybe the safety of my vantage point gives her the freedom to sing. 

Maybe when she feels like this, she can’t help but to be delighted enough to create this beautiful music… in her bliss, she surrenders to expression… and in her trust she opens into her bliss. 

Maybe she is just singing to me… the gift of a private concert from the goddess herself. 

Transfixed, I no longer need to know why this is happening… I close my eyes, open wide, taking it ALL in…  and then all that is left… a sweeping gratitude to be.. me.. here.. now.