The myth of the “too much woman”

October 2017, Kauai, Hawaii, North Shore.
The sea so wild that day, dangerous to go all the way in. The sand would just rock by surprise and sweep you under the 4 meter waves crashing over.
Mother Nature doesn’t question whether she is too much.
She just is. You deal with it.
There’s an aspect in every woman that lives in this exact wilderness. That unabiding, untamable, unrelinquishing nature.
A fierceness so powerful it would stir the oceans apart.
There is so much space and vastness in that place called woman.
A cosmic expansion: the amounts of pleasure we feel, the capacity for pain.
So much it can scare and shy away. Even ourselves.So most of the time, it lays dormant. Even in the most awakened women.

Just the other day I was sitting here journaling and it snapped.
No man will ever be able to hold the immense amounts of desire in my heart.
No man will ever understand what I truly yearn for.
No one human being would ever be able to contain all of me, hold all of me, protect all of me, touch all of me.
Sadness. Grief struck.
Why did I desire so much?
Why did I want so much?
I’m just too much.
Too crazy. Too free. Too wild. Too much.
I shouldn’t desire so much.
I should just be happy with less.
It would be so much easier.
Glimpses of past sensations in my body became alive:
a teen lover quitting, a glance of hope unmet, guilt,
a voice yelling turn the music down, shame,
mocking words and squeaking children in the playground.
Then this beasty feeling grips my throat, a knot forms and pushes my breath into constriction. Going beyond the bars will put me in danger. A somewhat primitive remembrance that I may die if I speak again, I’ll be hurt if I’m too visible, or punished if I know too much, that I’ll be scorned if I’m too beautiful, too sexy, too radiant.  Any label would do to create intimidation on my being.
Joy’s always been my full expression.
And this exuberant joy, this wild winged being has been shooed out of my tiny body little by little.
Hush. Don’t speak.
Belly is not for others to see.
Don’t show. Tuck it in.
What will people think?

Be a good girl. Behave. Get good grades.

Did you see her big-headed attitude in those heels.
She should get a grip.

Little by little. In unexpected ways we’re told to dim our flame.
We end up believing the lies and mistake them for commandments or rules to survive.
I learnt to confine, to comply and do all the things right.
I even became uncomfortably at ease dancing in a smaller and smaller cage.
Until I could hold it no longer.
Until it burst out of me uncontrollably: first frustration, then wells of tears, then screams shooting out of me.
Pushing uncontrollably against the hands holding my wrists down on my body: calm down, calm down Lisy.
NOOOOO!!! Let me go!
Let me go!
Just let me do whatever the fuck I want to do!
You can’t tell me what to do no longer!
I met my dark wild in fights with my father as a teen, then my ex-boyfriend in my late twenties.
It wasn’t their fault. They believed too that wilderness needs to be tamed. It needs to be locked down like a ravaging beast with dripping saliva ready to attack.

It becomes too scary for a man.


There’s a fear of loss of power, a fear of losing control.
Below, a deep yearning to be capable to meet the whole of a woman.
To love her, to the infinite potential and beyond. To stretch the arms of his presence for her and a sudden shrinking and contraction when he loses that encompassing power.

An immediate reaction to tame the uncontrollable so he may remain victor and worthy, in the space holder position, possibly. The hero. The King.

This feisty creature inside of me though seems to question all of who they are.

The force of the feminine can’t be tamed.
The wild force in a woman can’t be tamed.
Try to domesticate the waves of the ocean on a stormy night.
It won’t work.
The only one withstanding is the rock. Deeply grounded into the earth.
Witnessing. Receiving. Allowing the splashes to whip and melt over.
Until the day comes and the sea sets anew.
When the clear of day shines and pierces in truth.

Long gone seem the days the dark wild took me by storm.
And yet the resonance is still in my body.
There’s so much in my body.
She holds all the codes of life and the immensity of souls passing the cosmos.

Sometimes the waves come from far far away in time.

There’s a deep longing in my being to be desired and worshiped.
For all of me.
Many talk about the worship of Shakti with Shiva in devotional prayer to his goddess.
I’ve long sat with this and wondered where this is coming from.
How this fits in for me.

So, why do I want to be desired so much?

When I feel desired I also feel wanted.
Being wanted makes me feel safe. I belong.
This safety allows me to trust and let go.
It doesn’t happen in one go, it grows over time.

The more I feel held, the more I’ll feel held in my liberation also.
The space of infinite freedom opens.
It awakens the fire in me.

Desire feeds me at the very core of my being.
It generates energy and drives me to go off, to do things that set my soul even more on fire. I feel like flying! (A butterfly just flew past my window!)When my body is filled up so much my whole being yells YESSSS to life and everything that fuels my passion, my adventure, my heart blasts open, my arms reach wider and I’m just oozing with radiance. I dance with wild abandon.

Desire and love feed my inner Goddess.
She is fully open and receptive to be loved in multiple ways by multiple people in multiple timelines. Infinitely.
The more desire, the more openness.This may well be the symbolical nature of the multi-orgasmic Goddess:
one layer opens and potentiates more layers of pleasure.
The Goddess in every woman has this infinite nature of opening.

Surrendering and opening anew to the next layer of orgasms.
Quivering all over her body. Shaking. Tremors of moans washing on her shores.

This doesn’t only happen with pleasure.
We wouldn’t be whole if pleasure was the only capacity to life we experience.

The same happens with our pain: there’s a desire to be held through our darkness as much as our light. It’s like an ever growing spiral.
It magnetizes more and more love, compassion, wilderness, truth.

A wonderful teacher I met in Thailand, Kobi, said in his ‘Free to Love’ Workshop:
How can we fully surrender to Love if we don’t feel completely and utterly desired?
This stirred me deeply.
Yes I desire to surrender to vast amounts of love and presence.From young on we’re told that we need to confine, convey, comply and do all the things to fit in. In a society with so much conditioning: NO WONDER we end up believing we’re too much. It shuts down our openness to both love and pain.
No wonder we end up desiring external things: the perfect hero to come on a horse and save us. We end up believing we’re never enough. Proving to ourselves that we’re never in charge.
That the source of our freedom lies outside of ourselves.

It’s a lie.

The days I started to offer my orgasmic essence to the cosmos I began to understand why it is no man’s role to fill my cup. To fulfill my life. To lift me alone. To do it all.
Their love can’t really be questioned.

I’m an extension of the infinite Goddess.
She has no limitations. She simply is.
The pleasure I get to feel is her gift, the more I surrender to the infinite well of pleasure in my being, the more I understand the blueprint of this capacity to hold more of myself in this neverending space and claim it.
To stretch into the place where I deserve it all, I get to receive it. Regardless of the validation, regardless of there being a man or multiple or none.

When I took charge of my pleasure and dove deeper into the capacity of my body to feel imense amounts of it, I got feel the power of the Goddess that can’t be touched.
I got to see that this whole life is a celebration.
Every human touching my soul is a blessing.
Every step I weave on this path was a part of the dance all along.
The universe is my infinite lover with multiple O’s.
My co-creator. My heartfelt partner in crime.
Offering it over to the divine brought me into the sense of ease and flow.
It’s a subtle feeling.

No gripping.
No tensing.
No shrinking.
No being too much.

When there’s more, there’s always more.
And so it is.

More love to go around.
More freedom to fly for.
More dreams coming true.
More magic and miracles.
More fierceness.
More passion.
More fire.

Abundance birthing, pouring over and exploding like fireworks.

Yes we are too much and it is totally fine to be.
The ocean doesn’t question whether her waves are too high.
She relentlessly throws them to the shore.



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