I am alternatively sitting on my couch and leaping up to pace the living room – all the while hyperventilating.

And breath.

Part of me wants to curl up in a corner and bury myself under a pile of blankets and pillows, imagining I’m in a deep dark womb where nothing can touch or see me. The other part wants to stand on my roof top, arms akimbo, crying out my glee to the world. I had just done something totally and completely insane.

See, I don’t even know Goddess Leonie.

I read her newsletter (when it catches my eye), and I’ve seen her stuff – I know about her. But she doesn’t know me. I haven’t commented on her blog. I haven’t taken a class, engaged her in conversation, sent her a reply, joined her circle, introduced myself.

In fact, hardly anyone knows me. I haven’t run a boatload of classes, I have no manifesto out there, I’m not connected to big movers and shakers, I’ve put out no big call to arms.

Basically, I have no reputation to stand on.

But I saw – I thought – she might be looking for teachers.

I just took a free fall dive. I leapt off without even thinking. Some other, more spontaneous, less stagnant Me stepped up and fucking jumped.

I just sent her a spontaneous email asking her if I (I mean, you don’t know me, and I’m a nobody, and I can’t direct you to all the awesome things I’ve done because I haven’t done them yet, but…) could teach at The World’s Biggest Summit. I don’t know what came over me.

Damn, but now that I’m thinking about it, I hope there’s something soft at the bottom.

Let’s be honest with each other.

The reasons you have – the perfectly logical and acceptable reasons – for holding yourself in stasis (stagnation, stuck, standing in mud up to your hips, stalling) are nothing more than excuses.

What you really are is Afraid.

Afraid of failure. Afraid of success. Afraid to be rejected. Afraid they’ll want more. Afraid you can’t measure up. Afraid your dream will never come true. Afraid your empire will be bigger than you ever imagined. Afraid to be seen. Afraid to be humiliated. Afraid you are wrong. Afraid you are right. Afraid to be brilliant. Afraid to lose hope.

Afraid you’ll get everything you ever wanted only to discover that even everything doesn’t satisfy.

So, instead you are waiting, waiting until.

Until you have the money.
Until the kids are in school/grow up/move out.
Until you’ve finished that course/degree/training.
Until you’ve got it just right.
Until you know what you’re message is.
Until someone else helps you out.
Until it feels right.
Until you are sure.
Until you have no doubts.
Until it feels safe.
Until you lose the weight.
Until you are healed.
Until the shoes fit.
Until the bridge appears.

Until…
Until…
Until…

Newsflash: That Until is never going to arrive. Never.

Every brilliant, cloud parting, life launching step you ever take will begin with you saying (possibly screaming):

I must be out of my fucking mind!

as you plummet downward waiting for the Divine to rise up and meet you.

Because in the estimable wisdom of Yoda:

There is only do, or do not.

Oh, and I’ll see you at the World’s Biggest Summit: Where I’ll be teaching.

(Yeah, it works like that…)

Sign Up… Take Your Leap

The Virgin is a Whore.

Now, there’s two words that are laid down, practically dripping with, emotional baggage. We fling them around as if they weigh nothing. But no woman wants to wear either of them.

I don’t.

Sadly, this dichotomy – and the lack of space between them (like between the aforementioned virgin’s legs) – is the perfect metaphor for female sexuality today.

If we were to define women’s sexuality by today’s male porn standards we might even have to admit that, not only is there no space between the terms, but we are actually expected to be (supposed to desire being) both: Virginal on the outside and a Whore in the bedroom.

I don’t want to be that either.

Interestingly, if we drop the baggage and allow our judgement to lie like long abandoned bed sheets, that sentence becomes nothing more than a definition.

Because, no surprise, we’ve got everything ass backwards.

A real Virgin could be a Whore if she wanted to; as she’s a woman who belongs to herself she can put as many men on their knees (until they cry out in worship) as she likes.

Powerful. Independent. Untied.

No wonder they scrubbed her down and dirtied her up. Tore her in two: the Sacred and the Slut.

I don’t want to be an Aphrodite – a Porn Star Goddess if ever there was one – any more than I want to be the Virgin Mary. If these are the only choices we have, I’m screwed.

I’d rather be Freyja.

There was no God (or Elf) she hadn’t straddled, yet she remained the most “glorious of the Goddesses”. Her sexuality was her own.

They tell a story about a necklace that Freyja wanted. I’m not big on jewelry myself, but considering this necklace was important enough to get it’s own name it must have been some bauble. She offered it’s makers – four Dwarves (the mythical type with beards and little hammers) – silver and gold ( money is no object for her, she’s a Goddess people), but the Dwarves didn’t need, didn’t want it (I guess they had enough already).

I don’t know if the next part is just cheek, if they thought she’d never do it, or if they just felt left out after all those Gods and Elves got some (Goddess of Beauty and Love, Freyja, it’s safe to say, is ‘Da Original Bomb). So, the boys told her they were willing to negotiate; she could have the golden, glittering heart of her desire in exchange for one thing only: a night in the sac with each of them. One night, four Dwarves, most of a week’s work.

Hey, why not.

(Maybe she was curious after all the Gods and Elves.)

So, for four nights in a row the Goddess pulled on her fishnets, tightened her bustier, slathered on some red lips and met each dwarf in turn. The story isn’t clear on whether dinner and a drink were provided, all we know is that after four nights the Golden Goddess went home with her necklace. We can assume it was well earned and the Dwarves were fully spent (all the Gods and Elves has to teach you something), but we’re only told that Freyja went home “as if nothing had happened”.

(I suppose the boys didn’t measure up after all.)

Why, when we say “Sexuality” are we always referring to Who motivates our sex? I think it’s about time we started talking about some Hows and Whys.

Which reminds me, I read this book, Why Women Have Sex, and learned that women have sex just to try it, out of obligation, to have fun, to procreate, out of spite, because it’s expected of them, because they love it, to get revenge, to feel fulfilled, to create a connection, because they are bored…

So. Basically.

Women have sex for all the same reasons men do. Book worthy fact.

Is this shocking? Should it be? Shouldn’t it be normal?

How do we find our way back to Freyja from here?

I don’t want stud muffins and bimbos, I’d much rather be Divine in Bed. Tantric. Empowered. Mine.

Who owns my body (your body) right now? Who owns my sex act – your sex act – our sexuality? Because I can honestly say it’s not me.

I know where it went. It was beaten, burned, tortured, caged in, thrust, moaned, exploited, shamed out of us. But I’m damn well ready to have it back. All it’s filthy shine and it’s Holy Prostitution.

Me: Powerful. Independent. Unrestrained. I’m taking it back.

Tick, Tick, Tick…

Today is the last day of the 72 Hour Pay-What-You-Can Sale for the Tarot Goddess Class… I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of your email so I can see you in class next week. What are you waiting for? Did you send it yet?

Just to get you all excited about the possibilities, here’s the fourth in my series of Tarot Reviews:

The Legacy of the Divine Tarot

And don’t forget to download the PDF with all the extras for the review:

Legacy Tarot Review

The class is going to rock, I can’t wait to see you there. And, oh yeah, if you like it this can be the deck you get free!

I’m back… I spent a lovely four days camping; I was lounging on a hammock and… well, that’s really all I did. I read three and a half books and basically did nothing for the better part of a week.

It was Gorgeous.

Jealous?

Don’t be; I’m feeling so magnanimous I though I’d spread a little of my happy feeling love around.

I racked my brain thinking about exactly what I could do that would make you all feel as happy as I’m feeling right about now and it finally came to me:

My Tarot Class

I thought about maybe offering a little discount, or maybe a free tarot reading with me… but this morning I knew, I just knew, that what you really wanted was to be able to come to tarot class – no barriers.

I’d love to have that puppy fill right up and I know that you are just dying to come and play tarot with me, so I’ve been wondering what’s been holding you back from flinging it all to the wayside and jumping in? It had to be money (it always is, isn’t it?)!

So here’s the plan, if you want to come to tarot class, then for the next 72 hours (that’s until Weds night peeps) YOU CAN! Yep, that’s right, you definitely can.

The Deets

If you’ve been dying to become a Tarot Goddess yourself, but just haven’t been able to commit to the class right now, what I want you to do is jump up and grab a piece of paper and a pen right now. I’ll wait.

Got it?

Ok, now write $350 at the top of the page. That’s what the class is worth. Now, I want you to think about this for a second, maybe chew on your pencil a bit… then cross out the $350 and below that write what YOU think it’s worth.

What do you think? What would you pay for 8 weeks of teleclasses, a Tarot manual, readings from partners, and unlimited access to moi? What’s that worth? $200? $150?

Can you afford that?

I checked and between this week and the end of the class I (*ahem*, my husband) will be getting five paycheques. Can you afford it if it was split across five payments? Maybe even three? Will two do?

No?

Ok, go ahead and cross out what you think it’s worth. Now below that, write down what you can afford. Does that seem fair?

Great! It’s sold.

Now that you’ve got your number you’re going to send me an email email at: megan at limitlessliving dot ca (or maybe message me on Facebook if that’s your thing), put “Pay What You Can Sale” in the subject line to be sure I see it.

Then tell me your number. Go ahead and tell me what you can pay and then tell me how you’d like to pay it (that is, do you want to pay it all right now, did you want to make payments – if so how much and when?). As long as I get your email before Thursday morning, and you agree to the below conditions, and there’s still room in the class – You’re In!

As easy as that.

The Conditions

They are pretty darn simple.

1) I ask for one payment before the class starts – no matter how small – to show your commitment and hold your space.
2) I ask that you be full on committed to the class. That is: you’ll show up, you’ll do your readings for your partners, you’ll be there and you’ll be engaged. (Of course, life happens and I understand about that, but I ask that you come in with a commitment to the class.)

Tis all.

*Oh Yeah… Also, please mention in your email if you prefer a Wednesday class as I’m willing to consider this option if enough people request it (due to popular demand).

You in? Check out the Class again, email me your proposal at: megan at limitlessliving dot ca(or maybe or message it to me on Facebook.

2.5 Days and counting… (God, being magnanimous is fun.)