Divine Feminine

These sessions covered a lot of inner work, through meditation, becoming more still, regaining calm and balance. It was an inner exploration talking into the power of the feminine aspect which is present in all. Energetically, we contain masculine and feminine aspects and the ability to tap into both. However, the feminine has been understated, forgotten, misinterpreted in patriarchal societies. These sessions helped tapped into an ancient divine sacred energy. As well as finding self acceptance of all aspects of our personality, emotions, it was also a real sense of gaining oneness. The Shiva/Shakti, the primordial force of creation. 

The sessions included co-creating a sacred space with a focus point. Each object representing a deeper meaning and access to a deeper connection of this this divine.

Meditation session #4

Meditation session #5

Meditation session #6

by Daniel Lloyd-Morgan

- Low hum of the street outside,
but here — Her face — now flesh, rises from marble shoulders,
eyes still wet with the memory of buses, rain, corner shops, the casual grace of survival, 
In the pink flush of 
carnations, the air trembles with sandalwood and
rose smoke curling around her stillness, she holds the world as if it were fragile, as if it were hers.
Stone remembers skin, and skin remembers prayer.
The air bends around her
North London dissolves into myth and myrrh.
She is both altar and offering,
both woman and what waits beyond.

by Daniel Lloyd-Morgan

A grey day in North London,
clouds folded like old linen,
the air thick with borrowed feelings.
Others’ hearts pressed close —
their sorrows breathed through red brick and bone.

She sat upon her hidden throne,
bare feet in imagined sand,
the sea whispering her true name.

To her left, the black panther —
shadow made flesh,
guardian of the unseen.
To her right, the owl —
the calm eye of wisdom,
feathers ruffling in unseen wind.

She landed suddenly,
like a soul dropped from the sky,
as if arriving twice —
once to the room,
and once to herself.

The armour clung,
the heart remembered its walls,
and yet —
a crack appeared,
a single pulse of mercy widened it.

Through that opening poured
a flood of light too tender to bear,
the sound of the street below
turning to mantra,
the hum of buses becoming prayer.

Kali of North London —
barefoot queen of compassion and storm —
she breathed,
and all tremors ceased.

The sea stilled.
The panther watched.
The owl closed its eyes.
Joy returned —
quiet as dawn,
and just as certain.