Hey there,
Welcome.
I'm Lauren Behr.
I'm really glad you're here.
Take a deep breath,
My love.
Let your shoulders soften.
Let your belly expand.
Let the weight of the day slip down your spine and into the warm soil of the earth below.
I invite you to join me in imagining that you're standing at the edge of an ancient path.
It glows softly under moonlight,
Silver threads woven through dark velvet night.
The air is rich with jasmine and wild mint.
Somewhere an owl calls and you know you're being summoned.
You begin to walk.
Each step feels dreamy,
Like floating.
The soles of your feet kiss soft moss.
This ground is sacred.
As the path winds gently,
You feel it inviting you inward.
Up ahead you see a carved wooden gate.
Binds curling around its frame.
Nestled into the arch is a glowing moonstone.
As you approach,
The gate opens on its own.
Nothing to fear here.
There's only welcome.
And you step inside.
This garden is alive with mystery.
Silver leaves shimmer.
Night-blooming flowers sway as if they're breathing.
And in the center of this moonlit oasis stands a circular pool,
Still as glass.
Around the pool,
Flowers grow in soft rings,
Box glove,
Yarrow,
And rose.
Each petal seems to pulse with memory.
You're not alone here.
The wind changes and you feel her,
The presence of the moon goddess.
Ancient and ageless,
Fierce and tender.
She rises from the pool in a shimmer of moonlight and mist.
Her hair long and wild,
Her eyes full of galaxies.
She smiles and it's like remembering something you never knew you forgot.
Welcome,
Daughter,
She says.
Tonight,
You remember who you are.
She gestures to the garden around you.
These blooms carry the voices of the women who came before.
Your grandmothers,
Your great-grandmothers,
And the countless foremothers you've never met,
But who dreamed of you.
You kneel beside the nearest cluster of blossoms,
Deep indigo iris.
As you place your hand on one,
A soft warmth floods through your palm and into your chest.
A vision opens.
You see a woman stirring herbs over a fire,
Humming a lullaby.
She feels strong and grounded,
Like roots.
You realize she's one of yours.
She smiles at you across time.
And now you move to the next flower,
A blushing peony,
Heavy with scent.
Another vision,
A woman dancing barefoot in the rain,
Laughing wildly under storm clouds.
She is joy unbound and she is yours.
One by one,
You touch them and with each bloom,
A gift returns to you.
Strength.
Sensuality.
Wisdom.
Creativity.
Resilience.
Magic.
The garden begins to grow brighter.
Your skin drinks in the moonlight.
Your heart,
Full of golden honey and fire.
The goddess kneels beside you.
She brushes a strand of hair from your face with fingers made of starlight.
You are the prayer of a thousand women,
She whispers,
And tonight they speak through you.
From her robe,
She takes a silver vial.
She pours a drop into the pool and the water shimmers with images,
Scenes from your own life,
Moments you forgot were beautiful.
That time you trusted your intuition.
That time you held another woman as she cried.
That time you dared to rest when the world said hustle.
These are your petals,
She says.
Your story blooms too.
You stand now,
Feeling taller than before.
Rooted.
Radiant.
The goddess kisses your forehead and places something in your hand.
A seed,
Moon white and glowing.
Plant it when you're ready,
She says.
It holds your legacy.
She fades into the mist,
But her warmth stays with you.
You walk slowly back to the gate,
Seed in hand,
Heart humming with lineage.
The air is soft against your skin.
And as you pass through the arch,
The moonstone pulses gently like a heartbeat,
Like a promise.
We find ourselves back on the path now.
Remember to breathe deeply.
Maybe wiggle your fingers and your toes.
Touch the earth beneath you,
The present moment.
You have been to the ancestral garden and you are not the same.
You are whole.
You are held.
You are home.
Go gently.
