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La carne, templo de lo sensible, se ablanda como la tierra húmeda al primer rocío. No se rinde: se ofrece. En el silenci...
08/08/2025

La carne, templo de lo sensible, se ablanda como la tierra húmeda al primer rocío.

No se rinde: se ofrece.
En el silencio del alma encendida, cede sus rigideces, se vuelve receptáculo sagrado.
No por rendición, sino por amor.
Se estira hacia adentro, como recordando que alguna vez fue agua.

Ablandarse por dentro es un acto sagrado.
Es decirle sí a la vida con todo el cuerpo,
sin esconderse, sin apresurarse.
Dejar que lo tierno brote,
que la mirada se suavice,
que la presencia se expanda como una flor
que se abre sin miedo a ser vista.

Umbral por donde la vida entra,
se posa, se queda.

Enternecernos es volver al centro.
Escuchar el cuerpo cuando susurra,
cuando pide pausa,
cuando anhela ser sostenido.
Es detener el ruido externo
para que lo interno respire,
se mueva,
se revele.

Es permitirnos.
Un “sí” tibio y presente.
Aquí. Ahora.

Porque la carne, cuando se ablanda,
no se rompe: florece.
Y en esa suavidad,
nos volvemos uno con lo vivo.

El cuerpo, vuelto altar,
respira su verdad:
nacer es también ceder.
Amar es ablandarse para dejar pasar la luz.
Y vivir… es abrazar sin prisa
lo que somos cuando por fin,
nos dejamos Ser.

DejarSer. PermitirSer. GozarSer. AmarSer.

Gracias por tanto........❤️
y 🙏🏾🫂

07/02/2025

“Many suggest that spirals are representative of the cycle of rebirth (as indicated by their presence at a tomb) or as a symbol of a mother goddess, who has been strongly associated with underground chambers, which are interpreted as symbolic wombs.

Because of its connection with mother goddesses, the spiral is a very feminine symbol, representing not only women but also a variety of things traditionally associated with women. Besides lifecycles, fertility, and childbirth, the spiral can reference intuition and other more internal concepts associated with women.”

~ Catherine Beyer
https://www.learnreligions.com/spirals-95990
(read the full article here 👆🏼)

Art: Clio Wondrausch, “Beloved Earth”

"The human experience was not only sacralized, it was regarded as a gateway into communion with the presence of Love.Whe...
06/28/2025

"The human experience was not only sacralized, it was regarded as a gateway into communion with the presence of Love.
When the passionate energies, the sensations, vibrations, feelings that emerge within the crucible of the human experience, are made love to, tenderly received with reverence, everything becomes a doorway into Love.
There is nowhere She is not.
All experiences become invitations to commune with this ineffable, unnameable mystery of Life."

~The Marriage of Divine and Human~ Forbidden Fruit 🙏🏾🔥🌹🥀❤️

06/27/2025

I don't believe in enlightenment or awakening.

I believe in an in-dwelling temple that is the secret altar of Love.

A mysterious Other lives here. A Holy Presence. Words fail to name. I call Her Goddess.

This in-dwelling temple is embedded into the marrow of every moment. It's existence is unconditional. The doorway is everywhere.

To enter this temple is to know the nectar of life. To feel the presence of love.

I find my way "in" through how I meet the moment through my body.

Communing with this temple does not require me to heal my wounds. Integrate my shadows. It does not require I become empowered or see through any matrix or wake up from any dream. It does not burn through my illusions or transform me into an idealized version of a human being.

I am as human as I've ever been. Ordinary. Sublime. Broken. Whole.

I have changed over the years. I don't see those changes as the result of any "healing" or "transformation" or "awakening" I've undergone. I relate to the changes in me as the organic process of aging and maturity. The natural growth of the seasons. Of how life has shaped and molded me with time.

I am better off in some ways. And worse off in others.

I do not see my path as a linear progress of improvement.

I am not becoming better, actualized, enlightened, healed or awake.

I'm growing and changing through time.

And,.

My spiritual path, my only practice, is discovering different doorways in my body. Different pathways into the present moment. Where the secret in dwelling temple of Love resides.

I go here to pray. I go here to remember.

This is all there is, for me.

And, when I hear others speak of their great transformations... I find myself more and more perplexed.

As if you speak a language I am forgetting how to understand.

~ Maya Luna

Art by Elly Smallwood

06/27/2025

🌊 Las profundidades de la vida, aguas que brotan amorosamente 🌊

El mar, nuestras lágrimas, el sudor y el líquido amniótico comparten un secreto ancestral: todas son aguas saladas, memorias líquidas del origen.

El mar nos recuerda de dónde venimos: es cuna de vida, vasto y profundo como el amor que se gesta en el cuerpo de una madre.

Las lágrimas son sal que habla, que limpia, que expresa lo que no cabe en palabras.

El sudor es esfuerzo, es cuerpo entregado, es piel trabajando por el sostén de otras vidas.

Y el líquido amniótico… es mar adentro. Es el primer océano que habitan las y los bebés. Es calor, abrigo y arrullo. Es el agua que nos contiene antes de ser nombradas.

Cada gota tiene su historia. Cada sal, su sentido.

Parir, criar, maternar… también es navegar estas aguas.

✍🏼 Grecia Avalos
📸 raggapunzel Josy Peukert

"All is darkness now, so gather around my birthing pool. I am legs spread waiting to begin.My sound is low, so press you...
06/21/2025

"All is darkness now, so gather around my birthing pool. I am legs spread waiting to begin.
My sound is low, so press your ear to the ground and listen.
They built this world high above me.
You run away from me as you seek me.
I am not where you are going. I am the place you leave to find me.

You can not touch me, I melt you.
You do not pe*****te me, I envelop you.
You can not see me, I am beholding you.
You can not do me, I am dancing you.
I am not something you can grasp, rather a space you can inhabit.
You can not hear me, yet I appear through listening.
I am not emotion, yet my presence grows in feeling.
I am your mother and your w***e.
I am the throb at the core of all things. Your world is straight lines, I am the round one underneath.
They tried to erase me with the linear mind, but I am right here, closer than your thinking.
I was the first one, I am not going anywhere."

06/20/2025

✨ La poética del nacimiento ✨

El nacimiento es una obra que no se escribe con tinta, sino con cuerpo, sangre, silencio y amor.

Como en la tragedia antigua, hay una acción completa: gestar, parir, recibir, comenzar.

Un ciclo que se cierra sólo para abrir otro.

En escena: una madre, un cuerpo que se transforma;
un bebé, un alma que cruza el umbral.

Ambas, protagonistas de una historia que no necesita aplausos, pero sí presencia.

La mímesis, diría Aristóteles, es el arte de representar la vida.

Y ¿qué es el nacimiento sino el instante más puro en que la vida se mira a sí misma?

Sudor, latido, empuje, llanto.

Un guion escrito en los pliegues del instinto.

En cada parto hay catarsis:
la emoción se desborda, la piel se rompe para dejar salir lo nuevo,
el dolor se vuelve puente y la vulnerabilidad, potencia.

Hay un reconocimiento:
una se descubre madre —no como título, sino como verdad interior—
y reconoce en su cría el rostro de lo que siempre estuvo esperando.

La placenta, como coro silencioso, sostiene la escena.

El útero, como telón rojo, se abre para revelar lo irrepetible:
la vida desplegándose.

No hay actores, no hay actrices.

No hay ensayo.

Solo cuerpos entregados a una coreografía ancestral donde el tiempo se detiene y lo invisible se hace carne.

El nacimiento es arte vivo.

Es la poética más antigua.
Una que no se declama, se encarna.

✍🏼 Grecia Avalos
📷: Imagen con fines ilustrativos
©: Maternidades en Tribu

🌀 My body is the doorway to God 🌀"Can the body of a Woman be your teacher?The veils stripped away, naked and empty. Is t...
04/09/2025

🌀 My body is the doorway to God 🌀

"Can the body of a Woman be your teacher?

The veils stripped away, naked and empty.
Is there a wisdom in her soft curves?
Do you know the language of a circle?
What about her rising ondulations, her wild pleasure, her wetness?

Can your lust inform your heart?
Is She sacred or profane?
Do you long to be reunited in the temple of the Womb?

SHE, keeper of secrets, mother of oneness, the original ecstasy.
Do you remember?

Breast, soft forgiving endless love.
The nectar of the heart.
Eyes that gaze into the deepest corners of your soul.

The ocean of her belly rocking free and full and vital as you suck and ache with such sweet longing.
Your tender heart broke open wide , dissolving into all of everything.

Do you see who you really are?
Life is a mystery. S*x is how we remember."

Excerpt from WHOLY WHORE~ Maya Luna

05/17/2022

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