A Sunday Kind of Love

I’m sitting at my desk this Sunday afternoon, looking out at the greenery of the trees. The wind is moving through them in long, slow breaths, almost like they’re whispering reminders I keep forgetting to hear. As I write, I have Summer Walker’s “Go Girl” playing in the background. Something about that song makes me feel like a bad ass ngl, even while I’m sorting through the places within me that still feel tender.

Hmmmm, there’s something about Sundays that invites a different kind of presence. A softer love. A quieter truth. A moment to sit with myself and ask, What do we really need to address today?

Lately, holistic living hasn’t just been about how I eat, move, or breathe. It has been about the parts of me that still need caring attention.

This past week, I went into the Temezcal , and something happened in that heat, in that darkness, in that womb-like space of rebirth. I didn’t go in expecting a revelation but the Temezcal has its own way of pulling things from the body that the mind avoids. I felt myself literally sweating out old stories, things I didn’t even know were still tucked inside me.

The unexpected rose up:
a deep, almost unfamiliar desire for more when it comes to love specifically from the masculine.
More intentional listening.
More I’ll take care of this.
More protection.
More of that Sunday energy that feels slow, intentional, and unforced.

But alongside that desire came another awareness.
I still have healing to do with masculine energy.

Not divine masculine, not the conceptual or idealized form, but real, everyday masculine energy that shows up in my life. The kind that can hold. The kind that can be steady. The kind that triggers old wounds in a way that moves you to heal them. The kind I am learning to trust again.

The Temezcal made it clear that there are layers I’ve healed and layers I have avoided.
Layers that deserve gentleness, not shame.
Layers asking for presence, not perfection.

Holistic living, for me, is becoming less about the practices and more about the honesty.
Where am I still guarded?
Where do I still flinch at closeness ?
Can I ask for what I really want?

This Sunday kind of love is asking me to slow down enough to see myself clearly. To hold myself the way I wish to be held. To create space for the masculine to meet me in the places I am still softening.

And this awareness is guiding where we are going next month as a community.

For the month ahead, our theme is Healing the Divine Feminine for the second time, and we are reaching a bit deeper. I can feel that there are still pieces waiting to be soothed, reclaimed, or understood. Pieces of softness we have abandoned. Pieces of intuition we have silenced. Pieces of love we haven’t allowed ourselves to fully trust.

As the song changes and I watch the trees dance outside my window, I realize this:
Healing isn’t linear.
It is seasonal. It moves in cycles, in waves even.
And right now, this wave is inviting me, inviting us, to re-enter our feminine essence with more honesty and more love than before.

A Sunday kind of love.
A love that moves gently.
A love that breathes deeply.
A love that tells the truth.

A love that notices what you need and provides it.

Here’s to what our hearts are ready to hold.

See you on the other side , Jo