Hi I’m Elizabeth. I’d like you to get to know a little about me. Our relationship won’t go much further without one of us becoming vulnerable. Walls prevent intimacy and the building of trust. So, let’s just say I want to start out assuming we don’t need walls.
I am a Priestess of the temple of the body. A fierce devotee to the secrets of the vessels we each inhabit. Your soul was born into your body, intertwining DNA with spiritual essence. Your body is a crucial key to accessing your inner knowledge and sacred wisdom. Are you ready to honour this temple? As an Embodiment Guide I am passionate about working with people seeking discourse with their inner voice.
Consider the ongoing dialogue between our sensory experience of the world, and our inner voice. We witness the intensely personal conversation, yet we are deaf to, or struggle to interpret, it. We are numbed to ourselves, allowing our fears to dominate and burying the most beautiful parts. It is difficult to see and believe in the sacred within. Sometimes we need a priestess to help us find the unfamiliar trail and honour its sacredness. A guide who is there to share your journey along with you.
Now I don’t know about you, but in full confessional mode, if I had read the above five years ago, I would have thought the writer must have been born in some sort of intense guru compound; or she was a fraud. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have even been reading it five years ago, so you are one step ahead of me. All that is to say, that getting to this point of being an Embodiment Guide has been one hell of a trip through intense therapy, deep shadow work, and a recognition that I am on a pilgrimage home to myself.
Most of my life I have been passionately in love with nature, feminine wisdom and the sensuality of the body. I have to confess though, I also have spent most of my life running away from these lovers. Full out connection with them has scared me beyond belief, and my shadow has known all the secrets of how to protect me. So, I buffered myself with concrete urban landscapes, played a blockbuster performance in patriarchy’s good girl role, and wrapped myself in bubble wrap so as not to experience full on pleasure.
Then my soul decided to stage a revolution. I’m not sure how many years she attempted covert operations of democratic reform, civil disobedience, or even subtle revolt. Looking back, I detect evidence that could have gotten her blacklisted or thrown in jail on concocted charges had the authorities of my shadow detected her true intentions. Yet she is a pretty badass protestor and enlisted the body to stage a bombardment of intense physical vibrations for months. While I endeavoured to suffocating what was rising, the pressure cooker cracked and I broke open.
History has demonstrated that revolutions are violent, bloody affairs that don’t have defined paths or destinations. Mine was no different. Heads of reason and accomplices where cut off at the guillotine. Things went off the rails for awhile eventually settling down under different rules, those of a pilgrimage. A pilgrimage, a sacred journey with a destination deserving of devotion. The secret of a pilgrimage is it isn’t about the destination, the power is all in the journey. It isn’t an adventure or a series of conquered tasks, its an education that pays homage to the sacred destination. In the course of my pilgrimage home to myself I’ve rediscovered uncommon, untamed, and unsanctioned parts of myself. What a journey it has been so far!