The clueless maiden

Carrie JordanLife Design, Womens Wisdom

I want to tell you that I haven’t always been this way. There is shame that comes up for me when I consider my past as a super clueless young woman. 

I could tell you a story about how I have always been a magical witch (I have), how I have always loved the plant nation, I started an earth-based church in my back yard when I was 8, and wrote a magic book of spells when I was 13. 

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That’s a story that I tell sometimes. It paints a lovely picture and a great branding message. It does. 

This isn’t that story.

The maiden

This story is about my cluelessness. It’s about how I didn’t know what feminism was. I didn’t know what consent was; I didn’t know what qualified as rape or much about it at all; I didn’t know how to feel what was going on in my body. 

For instance, in high school I wrote an anti-feminism report on how feminism impacted boys negatively (this may be true, but my relationship to writing the paper was very anti woman).

In college, I vividly remember going to a Take Back the Night rally. The people at the rally were impassioned and some seemed full of rage. I distinctly remember that I didn’t understand what consent was. I didn’t understand how it was wrong for a man to take advantage of a woman who was drunk. It was her own fault that she was drunk, right? 

After college I worked in offices and completely ignored my feminine physiology, hormones, moon time (my period), all in service of getting shit done.

I dated a couple wonderful men and a few pretty terrible man-children.

The common thread: over-valuing the male perspective

Through all of this, there is a common thread of me looking for approval from the outside from the patriarchy, whether that was my own dad, society, or men in general. 

I remember feeling proud that I was not a feminist when I wrote that paper in high school. Proud because I thought that would gain the approval I sought in some way. Men seemed to be against feminism, and I could gain approval by being on their side.

Painful rite of passage

When I was raped (I usually say “sexually assaulted” to make it more palatable to myself and others) in 2007, it finally became explicitly clear to me what consent was; what rape was; what feminism was; what it meant to hold my body as a sacred space, a sacred temple. 

My regret is that it had to go there for me to take the journey to the Sacred Divine Feminine. Through this dark, shadowy doorway I learned about boundaries, about my desire, my needs, my body, my path in this lifetime.

I hold the belief that our souls are here to do specific work in the world and if we get off path, so be it. We need a slap in the face to get back on path. 

Transitioning from head to body

For a long time I was a long-distance runner. Running can be good for some, but for me it was a way for me to get stress out without a connection to my body. I would spend the whole run THINKING in my head. Running had me stay up in my head and ignore the impact the activity was having in my body.

When I got in touch with the sensations of my body rather than living in my head I realized that running is really hard on my joints.

My early 20s

While everything seemed great from the outside, I became stuck and confused about my path early on. I tried and tried to make sense of what I was “supposed” to be doing. I was sure that there was something that I was missing. It felt lonely and although I was seeking support, there was none.

One day in my early 20s a dear friend (who is now a talented therapist) shared a helpful distinction. He suggested that I just try new things and see what worked for me. 

In that moment, I distinctly remember letting curiosity be my guide.

Saving grace

I became deeply interested in my studies of plant medicine and herbalism and began my studies of shamanism. Luckily an amazing group of women took me under their wings and we created deep and healing friendships, finding our ways through the darkness together.

All the while, I continued to work in the corporate world, compartmentalizing the parts of me in two categories. One part of me a witch; One part of me in a box that I made for myself so that others wouldn’t suspect that I was “different.” Because my story was that I was different and that was not okay.

Womb Wisdom

Acting like a man at work, in my relationships, and my life to fit someone else’s definition of “success” was not working.

As a result, my constant struggles with my moon cycles had become unmanageable. My body was screaming at me during every cycle. Dreading that time, loading up on Advil, I thought this was the only way.

I was not honoring the feminine. 

Finally my medicine revealed itself to me over a two-year period as I stepped onto the Red Road of indigenous spirituality and during my time on the mountain on my vision quest. I no longer felt baffled about how all this would come together; how I could make a living mashing all of these things together. The common red thread revealed itself. 

As I prepared to step into my role, I became a doula studying the feminine physiology; what women are capable of; and feminine-dominant sexuality. 

Why I’m here

Most of all, my medicine is to help women step into their roles in a way that honors the feminine, their cycles, and the cycles of the earth. It’s time to create a new paradigm of what it looks like for working women. No longer will we shove ourselves into a masculine system. Instead we are creating something new that supports our physiology and our femininity. At the same time, these ways will support the earth.

With a commitment to Great Mystery and to my soul’s mission… I’m here to be of service and am holding the medicine with open hands.