The Womb of the World

  The Womb of the World The Earth as the great maternal vessel where souls gestate in matter There are mornings when I wake and feel the pulse of the Earth through the soles of my feet — slow, ancient, wordless. It is not merely ground beneath me; it is a breathing body , and somewhere deep inside, I sense that I am being carried still, cradled within a vast, living womb . The soil, the rivers, the air — all of it feels maternal, as though existence itself has drawn me into its warm interior, asking me to grow in silence, to mature in shadow, to prepare for a birth that is yet to come. Sometimes I wonder if we ever truly leave the womb. Perhaps birth is not an exit but a deepening, a descent into layers of form. The body is another chamber , another membrane of mystery through which consciousness must pass to learn what it means to be both finite and infinite. The world — this dense, fragrant, trembling organism we call Earth — might be the first and last mother, the one who re...

Unapologetically

 

She also began to mentor younger women, listening to their insecurities, offering empathy and advice, and teaching them that self-worth was not tied to size. In helping others, she reinforced her own lessons, seeing in their eyes reflections of her past struggles and her present courage. She realized that the fight was not just personal—it was cultural, generational, societal. Every act of self-acceptance, every rejection of shame, became a small rebellion against a world that demanded perfection.

Over time, she learned to navigate the landscape of her body and her shame with gentleness. She forgave herself for past mistakes, for indulgences, for moments of despair. She celebrated her endurance, her heart, her capacity for love, her ability to find joy even in an imperfect world. The extra weight was still there, but it no longer defined her entirely. The extra shame began to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, steady sense of self-respect.

She understood that this journey was ongoing, that societal pressures would not vanish, that internalized voices might whisper again. But she also knew she had learned tools, strategies, and above all, the conviction that she was more than her body. Every meal eaten with pleasure, every mirror looked at with acceptance, every relationship nurtured with honesty, was a declaration: I am worthy, I am enough, and my weight does not determine my value.

In this way, she reclaimed not only her body but her life. She embraced imperfections, honored her needs, and recognized that shame could be confronted, dismantled, and replaced with self-compassion. The road was long, winding, and sometimes painful, but every step forward illuminated a simple truth: worth is intrinsic, not conditional; beauty is diverse, not uniform; and love—true love—requires no reduction, no punishment, no hiding.

And so, she carried on, not free of her body, not untouched by the world’s judgment, but stronger, wiser, and more tender with herself than she had ever been. The extra weight remained, but the extra shame no longer had power over her. She had claimed her body, reclaimed her voice, and in doing so, discovered a profound liberation: the courage to exist fully, wholly, and unapologetically.

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