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  • Writer's pictureLyndsey Griffith

The Bleeding Ones

Being one who bleeds without injury is a magical yet daunting experience.


To carry the responsibility encompassed in continuing our descendants is powerful yet terrifying.


Whether we ourselves decide or are able to create new life or not, we are constantly confronted with the weight of being womb-carriers.


Whether we bleed consistently, or have irregular or absent menses, we are constantly staring our health in the eyes.


Womb-carriers are mirrors to Pachamama. When she is in pain, many of us seem to feel her pain during our cycles. When she is experiencing infertility in her soils and waters, many of us seem to reflect this within our own bodies.


Each time we bleed, we are encouraged, or sometimes forced, to view the parts of our lives that are falling apart, falling away, and dying, to create room for new growth as we move into our follicular phase.


As womb-carriers, as bleeding people, we are asked to open ourselves and surrender to the changes our bodies and the world produce.


As womb-carriers, as bleeding people, we are asked to evaluate how we are living our lives, how we are treating our bodies and minds, and how we are tending to the earth, each time we bleed.


This can be confronting, especially when we are not living sustainably in our daily lives.


If we experience pain in our cycles, it can feel impossible to handle. If we experience irregular or absent menses, it can feel hopeless or as though our bodies have failed us.


We hold so much within our wombs, from blood and nutrients, to ideas, creations, hardships, pain, pleasure, and connection.


To be a womb-carrier, to be a bleeding person, is to be immensely powerful, immensely strong, and to be constantly confronted with the health of our own beings and the health of the earth.


May we remember that we are, at every given moment, doing the best that we can.


May we honour our bodies, and remember that we are magic.


May we remember that we are mirrors to Pachamama, and she to us.


As I honour my bleed, I honour Pachamama, returning myself to her. As I honour my bleed, I remember that my body has always been a part of her.


“Pachamama I am coming home, to the place where I belong.”

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