Having an ancestral lineage of farmers who tended the land with artful passion even amidst historical storms I absorbed the rhythms of nature; naturally. I witnessed the planting and harvesting of seeds, woke from the noise of seasonal pig-killings, trampled grapes into sweet wine and enjoyed the fruits of the season in abundance.
Growing up as a pastor’s daughter, the church bell was another determining beat. Hand in hand with the congregation I moved (more or less) gracefully through the church calendar from the Advent season through the Nativity, toward the cycle of death and resurrection until we welcomed the pouring out of the spirit at Pentecost accompanied by majestic Organ tunes.
Maturing into womanhood – as a practising yogini and mother – I have learnt to embrace the rhythms of my own femininity and align them with nature’s forces for my (and my environment’s) well-being. Or at least I think I do.
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