Medicinalmeadows

THE PLACE WITHIN

Tag Archives: #anatomyofmenopause


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Moon phase -Waning in Menopause

This 50 life is a change in the signposts of my being. At this time we are entering into the dark moon phase and I feel it, I deeply feel it.

At menopause I no longer have the last menses dotted in my diary as a clear indication of my follicular and luteal phases. But the lesson is right here, the paper notes, the digital calendar are not the messengers, my body is, I am embodying the phase.

This last week I felt the waning of the moon cycle. I was aware of the turning inward and had a welcome feeling to step down a level of commitment as I employed a new awareness, my body acknowledging the moon.

I felt the nudge, the communication of my body in relationship with the moon. It was like the strings of a musical instrument being tuned in to the flow of energy in direct response.

I am aware that this weekend the earth holds the women in turning inward. A time to rest, to give thanks for what has occurred in this moon cycle. An invitation to enter into a ritual of gratitude for was is, what was and let go of what is no longer needed. A time to reflect on the fullness that occured, the joy we received.

At the end of the dark nights 🌙 we begin to consider what newness to dream into being for the new cycle ahead. We have the ability to create again.

This is also the way of the elder, the wise woman, the women under the moon of menopause. We are welcomed to take the moon phases as our compass. With our feet meeting the earth, her body, our body, and our crown reaching to the moon. We are embodying the rhythms of our true nature for the generations ahead.


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Sweet Nothing, the Pause

In my 50th year, my blog posts needed a title change, so I am now “my 50 life”…nope doesn’t have the same ring to it as “my 49 life!” So I need a rethink, or, I need a Pause!

The great Pause as it is now named, the great Pause, the Meno-Pause. I have been sitting with this word for the last week and it has this beautiful meaning to me of sinking my roots deep down into the earth beneath me. I think I may just be onto something here. This is the time to do less and practice, no, not even practice, I correct myself here, do nothing.

When have I ever done nothing? I think back to all the times in my life when I have done something, always done something. I have tried harder, worker longer, put in more, pushed, changed direction, persisted. But when I look back to those challenging times in my 50 years I can now see that at some point doing nothing would have been possible if not the most practical. This menopause to me has always been about life on review, it is the biggest reset point in my existence. And now I can see it most clearly that some of my embodied, arising signals are flashing the pause button.

Imagine you are sat, in a very big comfortable way, (use your own imaginal viewing to dress-this-up now!!!) watching some episodes of your life and in front of the screen is a big button, a pause button. How many times could that button have been pressed for a Pause? But get this, the Pause button isn’t just to pause then play, no, it is to Pause, step away. This I feel is the thread and pull to energetic fatigue I feel, what would happen if I pressed Pause and did sweet nothing? No finishing that book while I sit, no picking up the phone, no lists, no nothing, not even writing or thinking! It is an art to Pause, so join me, create Pause, “what are you doing today?” “Having a Pause”.

What if this is that one thing that is restorative?! That is the answer to the fatigue and exhaustion?! What if the body is wiser than the brain and is shouting just sit, pause and ground yourself right here and now. Put your energetic roots down and watch the grass grow. Big transitions need but spaces of nothingness, be an empty vessel, a hollow bone, allow the world to shine through you, not work from you. Just sit a while longer…..the sweetness of nothing needed, nothing required, nothing to be done.

The Ongo Book p. 29 by Catherine Cadden and Jesse Wiens


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Lines of Grandmothers

There is a sweet feeling, 
Pegging out the washing
Watching my hands age 
along the line.
This inner knowing
Of the right way to
hang the clothes.
Maybe my Grandmothers 
are talking through me 
as I peg the next to the next.
This pleasing practice, 
Embedded in my bones,
Of the women, the wind, the dazzling sun.
Did they have moments like this?
Early morning dew in Spring?
I imagine my lineage of women,peg to peg, listening to birdsong, looking at their own hands year after year.
My line of coastal dwellers, 
Salty air,
Swinging clothes in sunlight,
Clothes of colours to old worn comforts. 
Seagulls hovering for a bit of bread,
The dry lines and cold fingers,
Their hands,
My hands,
Now look the same.