After writing my last blog-thing last night, something more occurred to me this morning, which should probably have been obvious – but I’ve been following this slow train of thought/feeling through floodwaters whilst short on sleep… so it all comes into focus slowly.
What occurred was this: for me, it seems my arrival into womanhood has two faces. One is the rising up of my woman psyche out of the protective slumber she was put in as a child; this is an ongoing journey home into myself. The other is very much a somatic, anatomical thing, and it has at its source the surgery I’ll be having at some point around a year from now, which feels absolutely necessary, to complete my arrival, and has a strong ritual significance for me that I’m still learning about.
So my arrival into womanhood will involve a kind of menarche after all. It will be my first and last. As a woman, I will be born in blood. Ordinary, and magical.
It does feel odd to me that I’m dwelling so much on the blood face of womanhood at the moment. But then again not odd too. I had in mind a flower unfolding, when I started to write all this, so I googled crimson blossom at random to see what images were out there – and found this piece of art by Julia Kunin called Crimson Blossom. Strange are the ways of coincidence. Sometimes it the blood, and sometimes it’s the forest.