The Woman.

The Woman: A channeled message on Divine Feminine power

I remember when he first sent me the photo. The moment it lit up my screen, goosebumps rose along my arms — not from fear, but from recognition. Her rawness stirred something ancient in me, something I already knew but hadn’t remembered in a long while.

The Woman, I texted back.

Yeah, he replied — simple, knowing.

When he brought me into his shop, the air felt charged, like the threshold of a memory. Raw forms waited for his hands, but she was the one who pulled my attention. In the corner to my right, The Woman stood exactly as she had in the photo — only now she was alive.

Another wave of goosebumps rippled up my spine. Seeing her in person awakened a wildness I had once carried openly. A wildness that had grown quieter over the years, hiding behind something that looked like permission but was really self‑containment. She reminded me that the wild was still there — just shyer now, waiting for me to call it forward again.

His warmth pressed against my back as he wrapped his arms around me.

“You cold?” he murmured into my neck.

“Maybe a little,” I whispered, leaning into him. But the truth was, the shiver wasn’t from the air — it was from the remembering.

His embrace felt like a promise: that my wildness could be held, not tamed. That he could secure it, foster it, protect it. And yet, within that warmth was the subtle pull of the ordinary — the humdrum gravity of life that can so easily smother a woman’s fire if she isn’t vigilant.

My gaze traveled up her body — the unapologetic stance, the sensual defiance, the fearless posture. She wasn’t just a sculpture; she was a mirror. She demanded respect because she was calling me out on my own.

On the parts of me I had neglected.

On the wildness, I had let go unfed.

On the truth that a woman’s core doesn’t need constant feeding, but it does require honoring — and to ignore it is to disrespect the very essence of being a woman.

He pulled me closer, and I melted into him, eyes closing. I wasn’t ready to speak yet. I needed to listen. The Woman had something to say.

And then the message came — clear, ancient, and unmistakably feminine.

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The Woman: Channeled Message

Inside you lives a wild, holy force — the Divine Feminine.

She is not fragile. She is not polite. She is not here to be convenient.

She is the pulse beneath your softness, the fire behind your tenderness, the instinct that rises before thought. She is the part of you that remembers who you were before the world asked you to be smaller.

You have forgotten pieces of her, but she has not forgotten you.

Your wildness is not gone — it has simply gone quiet, waiting for you to return.

Waiting for you to stop asking for permission.

Waiting for you to stop confusing comfort with nourishment.

Your feminine power does not need to be fed constantly; it simply needs to be acknowledged.

It must be respected.

It must be given breath.

When you ignore her, you dim the core of your womanhood.

When you honor her, you rise into the fullness of who you are.

The Divine Feminine is not ornamental — she is elemental.

She is creation itself.

She is the bridge between matter and spirit, the ancient voice that sings life into form.

She is the wild, the intuitive, the sensual, the fierce, the soft, the knowing.

She asks you to care for yourself with devotion, not as an afterthought.

She asks you to remember your depth.

She asks you to reclaim the parts of you that went quiet to survive.

You are more than what you see in the mirror.

You are more than what you offer others.

You are a woman, which means you are the energy of creation in its purest state.

Own yourself.

Feed what is hungry.

Protect what is sacred.

Let your wildness breathe again.

She will wait for you — with patience, with fire, with the exact kind of love you need to come home to yourself.