My approach is "evolving". It occurred to me after one particular hot flash, that perhaps the matter is not to harness the energy of a hot flash, but through repeated wake up calls (hot flashes) to wake up and become one in concert with our bodies. Mouthful, yes indeed. During this particular hot flash, I was doing my regular don't go nuts, breathe deeply, don't cast off your blankets in a desperate attempt to maintain clarity of focus when suddenly I became acutely aware of the sweat beading on my shins.

That was my ah huh moment. If I truly believed (and this is all conjecture my sisters) that I could harness, and thereby direct, the energy of a hot flash, wouldn't I possess that ability irrespective of the hot flash? I realized the latent beauty of these glorious hot flashes. We are creators, and as such, hot flashes can be viewed as simply our bodies calling out for attention and awareness. They are simply practice opportunities.

Consider all that we create without conscious awareness. So now, when I get a hot flash, I strive to simply release my instinctual biological response to regulate my body temperature, and instead allow myself to ride the wave. Every aspect of my physical being is in engaged at that moment. It's a beautiful dream, so I try to imagine and thereby extend my awareness into that engagement.

I want to share something I wrote during the time I grieved the loss of my womb. You gotta ask yourself??????

Vessels

Treasures

Portals

Women

Creators

infused;

be it man or life

we create,

we host

Vessels

Treasures

Portals

Women

Creators

conduits;

be it spore or child

we create

we host

Vessels

Treasures

Portals

Women

Creators

Creators;

biological imperative

or energetic intent

I as woman

I create

but blind came I

to these treasures,

blind came I

to this glory,

blind came I

to this power,

blind came I

to this glory

and because of this blindness

I have been severed,

severed and butchered.

Such is the way

in my time

A time when

the fires of light

continue to burn

and make shreds

of the darkened

veil that blinds us.

Such is the way

in my time.

The uterus is not so intelligent

she croaked

it's sole function to supply

blood and oxygen to the fetus

31 and yet she

held the posture of an elder.

Trained and cloned

by the teachings of her order,

scalpel in hand

she bore witness.

Such was the way in my time.