The Awakening of the Feminine — Triptyykki
The Prelude
”What am I even living for?” she asked herself, voice hollow as the words echoed in her mind. When did my life turn so empty, so flat, so devoid of joy? She lay in bed, eyes closed, tasting the salt of her tears. Why this ache, she wondered. I have everything I’m supposed to have, everything I thought would make me happy. Why, then, this relentless pain? A shadow of worthlessness. Why does this world feel so dark, so utterly hopeless?
Rising Above Murky Waters
“What about the feminine within you?” a quiet voice asked.
“What about it?” she replied, dismissive.
“The feminine part of you is drowning,” the voice said simply.
”That’s absurd! I am femininity—I am a woman, after all!” She felt a flare of anger, displacing her tears. She went to the mirror and looked, really looked—not at pores, not at brows or the angle of her nose. She looked into her own eyes and kept looking.
And then she saw it.
She saw herself, unmasked, raw and vulnerable, just as she was. She saw all that she had pushed away, her truth laid bare. How had she filled her life with so much masculine energy? Everything about her existence had become hard-edged, competitive, technological, intellectual. She began to tally up her feminine acts, only to find them painfully sparse: brushing her hair, giving goodnight kisses, wiping the table after serving takeout to her family. Manicures and haircuts couldn’t begin to balance the heavy load of masculinity in her life.
Her eyes widened as she whispered, “Oh.” She had read about yin and yang, about balance, about the importance of nurturing the feminine, but the words had been abstract until now. She saw what it meant in her own life, with a new clarity.
But then came doubt. ”This is who I am now. I’m too busy to change, too old. I wouldn’t even know how. It’s impossible to bring anything feminine into my work—it just is.”
And with that, she abandoned the idea, falling asleep with a strange mix of relief and resignation.
The Flower Power Wash
It was a dark night under a full moon, stars sharp in their brilliance. She drifted in that haze between sleep and wakefulness, with thoughts swirling, half-forgotten fragments stirring within her. Scenes, scents, voices, sensations—until she found herself sobbing, deeper than she ever had before.
Out of the depths came the scent of flowers, rich and wild. The luscious fragrance filled the air, enveloping her like a memory—or was it a dream? She saw it then, a meadow of blooming flowers, each petal bursting with life and scent. She turned toward a blossom near her, breathing in its essence, and the sensation swept over her, immersing her in the lush presence of feminine energy. She felt it, soaked in it—cleansed, strengthened, touched at the core of her being.
In the intensity of the moment, she remembered: This is me. This is who I truly am. Her body felt transformed, soft, light, and exquisitely sensitive. With the aroma of life still lingering, she drifted back into a deep, healing sleep.
Rebirth of Feminine Consciousness
Morning arrived with the gentle warmth of sunlight. Her memory of the night was vivid and real.
She glanced around and was stunned by what she saw. How did my home come to look like this? It’s a reflection of everything I’m not, she realized.
Her clothes. Her books. Her whole life.
She had discovered her feminine essence at last, and the truth of it was undeniable. There was no turning away. Not now. Not ever.
”First things first,” she thought. ”I need to bring order, beauty, and harmony to my home.”
And so she did—starting with her surroundings and extending into every part of her life. In this reborn awareness, she began to honor and cultivate the feminine, letting it infuse every act and space with grace, sensitivity, and life.