Woman smelling rose, staring with seductive eyes.

My vagina and I are beginning to have real conversations. Though I nicknamed her Penelope, yesterday she told me her real name: “She Who Desires.”

I remember this name from past research on Mary Magdalene. Among other translations, Magdalene was a title that meant high priestess, or “high tower,” from Magdala, the small town along the Sea of Gallilee where Mary came from. And then there these most intriguing ones: Woman of Infinite Wisdom, Woman of Eternal Love and She Who Desires.

For many years I’ve wondered how She Who Desires fits with Woman of Infinite Wisdom and Love.

If a woman has all that wisdom and love, why would she desire anything? Not seeing a link, I tossed She Who Desires aside, thinking this name was given to Mary Magdalene by religious leaders who wanted to make the 13th disciple and the feminine incarnation of God out to be a hussy who had the hots for Jesus and followed him around like a teenage groupie.

But yesterday, during my morning pleasure practice, Her name came to me again, clear as a bell.

I was holding a squat position, breathing into my lower back and pelvis, allowing my pelvis to become deep, wide and full, allowing my vaginal lips to relax, opening slightly on the inhale, and closing slightly on the exhale, like the petals of a flower.

On most days when I breathe into my pelvis, I experience it as a pool of still, dark, clear water with occasional ripples. But on this particular morning there was a flower floating in the center of the pool. I knew this flower must be my sacral lotus. I’d just never actually seen Her before.

Except Her petals weren’t orange, like yogis say they’re supposed to be. They were a deep magenta with highlights of white and pink.

I could feel the magenta lotus bottom attached to my vaginal flower’s bottom right at the cervix—only She was opening up to the sky and my vaginal flower was opening down to the earth. They were each other’s reflection!

What made this experience so profound was that it was so personal. I had no idea when I started squatting and breathing that I was going to have a direct experience with my sacral lotus, which is not only the seat of the Sacred Feminine, but (according to my vagina) the Goddess Herself.

That’s right, our vaginas and our sacral chakras are not simply organs and energy centers, they are actual divine Feminine Being inside our bodies!

My (and every woman’s) vagina is the mirrored image of the Magdalene, or as She prefers to call Herself, She Who Desires. She is the physical manifestation of the receptive feminine principle.

This brings up another contradiction: I’ve always thought of desire as an outward pull or drive away from the Self, versus an inward magnetism which moves me towards myself.

I now have a completely new understanding of She Who Desires and this has given me new respect for the sacred feminine Being my vagina truly is.

As I continued to meditate in squat position, my sacral lotus began to pulse a soft, magenta glow in every direction, filling my pelvis.

The experience was so erotic, I let out a deep cry of pleasure that vibrated the base of my spine.

The vibrations caused my spine to uncurl and extend, curving around to touch the cervical point at the base of my sacral lotus and continue down through my perineum into the ground.

The sensation was one of relief, followed by deep bodily satisfaction-like taking a shit or being fucked when you haven’t in a long time. Though I’ve visualized a root extending down into the ground many times during meditation, this time there was an added feeling of completeness. This root was my spine and it was connected not just to my base chakra, but to my whole body.

As I followed the root down into the dark, I could actually smell the moist, fertile earth.

I once read about the connection between the perineum and olfactory system. I experienced this myself; as the petals of She Who Desires opened to their full spread, another fragrance permeated the space. It was a much subtler, but exquisitely beautiful floral fragrance—similar to a lily—but even richer and finer, like the scent of magenta itself.

I noticed the fragrance became stronger on my inhale and more faint on my exhale. I also noticed its upward movement from my vagina to my nostrils, as well as the immense experience of pleasure it evoked in me.

The feeling was similar to the dopamine high and mind/heart expansion that happens when I have smoked Santa Magdalena (which incidentally is the indigenous name for weed). But it was also deeply nourishing, like drinking a yummy green super food blend. The inhale was so intoxicating I had to remind myself to exhale.

As I took in this olfactory food, I became aware of drawing desire up from my vagina not just outside, but inside my body, through my spine.

“This is your desire,” my vagina told me in scentual language. “Notice how your desire comes from within you. It is the scent of me. And it is unique to you. Every woman has her own scent so she can follow her own desire, and not be confused by the desires of others.”

I’ve always loved the smell of my yoni, but it never dawned on me that my yoni is the primal Goddess incarnate and her scent is my desire.

That’s really practical information for a woman who is constantly questioning which way to go.

Our desire isn’t just hunger; it’s sustenance that wants to feed every part of us. And it doesn’t need other things to feed it; it is its own source! As I allowed its lily-like scent to swirl around in my belly, saturating all of the organs there, I felt both the fullness of being nourished by my desire and the bubbling excitement of all of my desires waking up in my belly.

I felt the same experience in my heart. Though the specifics of my desires weren’t revealed to me, I could feel the energy of their existence.

As desire reached my throat, I could even taste it, which reminded me to put my tongue on the roof of my mouth in Kechari mudra, a Tantric mudra for connecting the neck and body to the head. When I raised my tongue bridge, desire leapt across and up, flooding my brain with its perfume.

Colors, shapes and symbols streaked through my mind like shooting stars. Again, I couldn’t name them, I could only experience and be nourished by them. I could only let them go back into the sea of my desire.

Not having to go anywhere at the moment, I got to simply experience my desire. This was a completely different experience than being an object of desire, as so often is the case for women.

Instead of being an object, I got to BE DESIRE, experiencing its essence first-hand from She Who Desires herself!

What if all desire was like this? What if we experienced it simply as a space to be in—a space with lots of room, without any need for consummation? And better yet, what might we discover and develop in ourselves from such a wide-open space of desire?

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