A month with my Yoni

 This blog is a personal reflection, shared in the hope it might inspire you to reconnect with your own body, however that looks for you.

Tomorrow I will begin a one month gentle ritual of self-love. Not the kind written in affirmations or spoken in front of a mirror, but a devotion lived through the body. I will choose one sacred part of me to meet again each day—my yoni.

Yoni is a word I’ve always preferred. It holds something sacred and ancient, something soft and pure. While the word “pussy” can be playful, even erotic, it carries layers I don’t always wish to take with me into moments of intimacy. Yoni feels like a return to something more essential—it’s the part of me that holds life, sensation, memory, and power.

So, for each of the thirty-one days of this month, I will give her my attention.

Some days it will be just five minutes. Other days, longer. But no matter how much time I have, I will make it count. I will begin by simply resting my hands over her skin, holding her gently, breathing into her, letting her know I am here. There will be no pressure to feel anything in particular—only a quiet invitation to connect.

Other days, I will bring out my oil—and I will anoint her with care. I will touch slowly, with reverence, tracing her curves like someone rediscovering a beautiful and mysterious landscape. I will explore what it’s like to touch without needing anything to happen. I will let the pleasure build, if it wants to, and I will stay with it, moving it through my whole body.

When I have more time, I will give her a full massage, just like the one I teach in my new offerings—each stroke slow and intentional, each pause full of listening.

Some evenings I will invite her into the bath. I will pour in salts and oils, watch them melt into the water, and I will sink in slowly, feeling her soften beneath the surface. I will stroke her gently under water, allowing the slippery warmth to bring me into a different kind of awareness. I will give myself permission to let time slow down. I will remember that I don’t need to rush to arrive anywhere.

Other times, I will try rhythmic squeezes—small, deliberate pulses from the inside. I will experiment with the subtle movement of energy, the way sensation travels up the spine and into the heart. I will notice how my body responds.

And on some days, I may reach for a crystal wand or a toy. But I will use it gently, with softness and awareness. I know how toys can overstimulate or lead to numbness, and this practice is about connection, not intensity. I will tune in to what she wants—nothing more.

Throughout the month, I will wear nice underwear, will even buy some new ones. I’ll experiment with different textures—satin, lace, cotton. I will take my time dressing and undressing. I’ll be mindful of those small moments—when I slip fabric over my hips, or peel it off slowly. I will remember that how I treat myself in these quiet in-between moments matters.

And I will carry this awareness with me through the day. I will remember her when I’m doing yoga, when I walk, when I type on my laptop, when I offer sessions. I will breathe into her, send her a moment of love when I pause.

I will learn to give her the same presence I offer others in my sessions. The same care I bring to a man’s body, I will bring to mine. I will remember that my body, my yoni, my pleasure, my tenderness—they are worthy of devotion.

This will be my offering to myself for the month of August. A quiet, sensual secret, now shared with you. A love story written with breath and hands and soft fabric. A ritual of self love through self pleasure.

And if you’re reading this and feeling something stir in you—an echo, a longing, a curiosity—I invite you to create your own version of this practice.

You don’t need a plan and you don’t need to do it perfectly. You just need a few minutes, a hand on your body and a willingness to stay.

Love,

Rosie x