Revelation Four – Reclaiming my Pleasure and Permission to be ME: From the Grey Mouse to the Jaguar Priestess
The months of me dipping in and out of the club felt like a slow reclamation.
Of the parts I had suppressed, judged, shamed, and hidden.
As I came into peace with those parts and contemplated the deeper nature of this work (as shared in revelation three), neutrality began to arise.
I simply felt it was okay.
That whatever I do is okay as long as I am okay doing it and it feels true to me.
No matter what other people say or think.
So this time I chose to go back for the money.
The money is great, the work conditions are amazing, and I have been having a great time at the club most nights.
So why not?
Yet as I returned, there were more reclamations awaiting me.
This time around my erotic aliveness. My orgasmicness. My pleasure.
I started to really enjoy being back in my erotic muse energy and realized how much I had missed being in that frequency that feels so natural to me.
I realized that this was the energy that brought me so much fun, playfulness, and aliveness.
That this energy drops me naturally into my Goddess Self.
I felt vibrantly alive.
To a point where… I started to feel guilty.
Like, is it really okay to have this much fun doing this?
I mean, in the greater scheme of things this is not the highest expression of sexuality. It is still glamour and smoke and mirrors… yet somehow, beyond all morality, a uncanny piece of me reawakened that felt like home.
I decided to fully embrace it and let the story of guilt dissipate.
Guilt infused into women by society.
That we should be available sexually as wives, but not too much.
That we should be pretty, but not so much that we make heads turn.
That we should be radiant, but only through a sweet smile, not through our erotic core.
That we should work and make money, but not in a way that actually feels pleasuring to us.
The should… but not too much… taboo.
I chose to cut it.
Fuck it. I am doing it.
Let me be the outcast, the weird one, the wild one, the messy one, the unreasonable one.
The one they burned and stoned.
I was her so many lifetimes.
Let me resurrect her and be her again.
Because she is the one who shows us how to awaken the black, trembling fire in our wombs.
She is the one who sets us free and teaches us how to love ourselves and, through that, life without limits.
She is the one the church shunned out of their scriptures.
I also knew that THIS is the energy I am here to initiate other Women into.
Inanna.
Magdala.
Lilith.
Asherah.
Morgana.
Feared because misunderstood by the many and truly known by the few.
I invoked her, and I felt her rise through my body, resurrecting the parts of me that had been suffocated by false spiritual light.
For this time, she came through as the Archetype of the Jaguar Priestess.
You have to be a Jaguar Priestess if you want to work in the club whilst staying in energetic alignment.
You have to be deeply aware of energy, power, when to move, and how to move.
It requires focus, presence, elegance, and precision.
It IS the erotic underworld after all.
(We will get more into this in the next writings.)
And while I was working with that energy, there was something else happening simultaneously in my life.
Outside of the club, I was moving through a time of depression.
I had lost touch with my creative expression, was healing deeper layers of unworthiness, and felt little inspiration for life.
The energy I was experiencing there was that of a grey mouse.
Hidden. Small. Unseen.
It was incredible to move between these two worlds and experience the contrast.
One: fully empowered, embodied, mistress of the night.
The other: shy, hiding, uncertain.
Yet the moment I stepped through the door of the club, the Jaguar Priestess inevitably awoke.
So it made me question: is this real?
Perhaps I am just putting on a mask?
And this question took me to the core.
I saw how the Jaguar Priestess was real.
More real than ever.
How this energy is part of my true Self.
And how entering a space where this energy is embraced and accepted allowed me to be free, to be who I am.
While the grey mouse was not real.
She was a story fabricated by society.
An idea that I had to be a certain way have achieved certain things by a certain time, and if I am not, I am not worthy.
If I am not, I will not fit in.
I never fitted in.
So I chose to hold this tender part of me.
To nourish her.
To love her.
And to remind her of how fucking amazing she is.
To believe in her power and magic more than anyone ever had.
I realized I was the one who had to choose myself and shed these stories that were now being revealed so clearly through the polarization of my experience.
So while I went back for the money,
I received something far more valuable.
The permission form myself to be fully who I am, as I am.
