I am all about bleeding freely. There was a time when women gathered in sacred spaces to honor the evidence of fertility and returned the bloods to the earth for the next harvest. We were excited to take time away from the world and be indulged in our personal healing desires. As we accepted the concept of modernization of our lives, we gave up caring for our bodies and our needs. Bleeding women need sustained nourishment for mind, body, and spirit, but in a world that requires we “buck up” and keep going we are left neglected and isolated. That is except for jokes about being “on the rag” or “that time of month.” We are expected to take medications to calm our emotions, relieve bloat and discomfort - basically shut us down. We have forgotten (or neglected to learn) the old ways of being with this great opening and expanding opportunity. and really, we have no where to go. If all our friends and family have chosen to predominate standards, then to chose outside will establish us as weird or worse.
Even as I offered my girls various choices in honoring their bloods, they chose the way of the dominate society. We kept a sacred circle in the back space for bleeding and resting which also held the placenta of each birth. I used cloth pads - first purchased, then made from diapers or shop rags (red already). I soaked all clothes and watered the plants. We painted with blood. Bleeding was a celebration.
There are also sponges, and cups shaped like diaphragms that can be disposed or reused; and of course, The Keeper. They each offer an alternative to disposable products that must be repurchased monthly. Bleeding and the shame thereof is big business. It is more rational to give up white pants/dresses for a week and use the extra funds for a massage or other personal luxury. Rather than medicating our discomfort, imagine resting with legs up the wall, soaking in a hot bath, lounging with a good book and absolutely no responsibility. This is not to dismiss cramps or other associated symptoms of bleeding, but rather to offer space to be with what is. Hot packs, teas, toddies, chocolate, and sweet loving go a long way to sooth the physical and emotional. Let’s not forget wine.
As the years passed I began to lament the lost of my bloods. They became irregular, then infrequent, and now not at all. Bleeding was one of the ways I tracked my experiences, honored my connection to the cycle of change and life itself. Today I honor the holding of power once expended into the universe. Becoming The Crone has been slow enough to release physical memory. I thought I would miss bleeding. I feared the absence. Now I rarely notice - “my friend” has moved on...
Posted in response to "Cunt."