Honouring women

On Sunday, I came to the last day of my Month with My Yoni ritual. This journey has brought me many insights, realisations, and moments of deep connection.

One thing opened with even more clarity inside me: the shared experiences we hold as women, as keepers of yonis.

On my way to yoga, on this final day of practice, I came across an image on a wall, an advert for an event in Manchester connected to eros. Strangely, it hadn’t been there on Friday. It felt as though it appeared just for me, to be seen at the moment it would mean the most.

The picture showed a group of women standing barefoot in a field, wearing black skirts and white blouses. Their blouses were open, and each woman was holding her breasts.

They stood together, different shapes, different ages, different stages of life, yet united in the same gesture. All holding, all honouring, all reaching towards the sky and rooted in the earth.

And in the middle, one woman knelt on the grass, dressed differently, her posture humble and strong at the same time. She felt like a priestess, a witness, a reminder that in sisterhood we sometimes stand side by side, and other times we kneel to hold space for others.

The way they held themselves felt both sensual and maternal at once, like a symbol of everything our breasts carry: nourishment and sensuality. It also feels like a reclaiming, these breasts belong to us. Before lovers, before feeding a child, they are ours: tender and powerful.

And I realised, it is the same with our yonis. They are a symbol of both pleasure and portals to life, of sensuality and creation. And firstly they are ours.

The image feels timeless, like something women before us might have known: women gathering in fields, honouring seasons, celebrating milestones, tending to life, to grief and joy. The gesture in the picture may be modern, but the spirit of it felt ancient. I felt the presence of lineage in it: the quiet thread that runs through us from the women before us.

Through this picture, through my month of practice, and through these words, I want to honour women.

I want to honour our yonis as sanctuaries of creation, creativity, and pleasure.

I want to honour our breasts as vessels of nourishment and sensuality.

I want to honour our connection to the earth, our openness to the sky.

I want to remind us of sisterhood, of the beauty of friendship, of standing together and witnessing each other.

I want to remember the women who came before us: our mothers, our grandmothers, our ancestors all the way back through time, whose yonis birthed life, whose bodies lived stories maybe not always on their own terms.

I want to honour the complexity of being a woman.

This is one of the lessons my yoni has taught me. And this picture captured it beautifully. 

 And I smile, because sometimes the universe leaves us reminders in the most unexpected places, even on a wall, under a bridge, on the way to yoga.

Love,

Rosie x