The Feminine and Relational Consciousness 



The Feminine Principle




and Our Evolution of Consciousness



If we understand the universe as an increasing embodiment of consciousness or spirit, we can appreciate how consciousness has been incarnating into matter, rooting into substance, or as depicted in the Bible, by being breathed into the dust of the ground. Matter, a word that in its ancient origin signifies mother, source, and substance, represents what is often called the Feminine Principle.





The Feminine Principle, worshiped for thousands of years as the goddess, the feminine side of God, and the sacred feminine, is the protective womb of the spirit, the container that brings the uncreated into existence, the cup that holds the meaning of life, as well as the web that keeps the whole of life together. This principle holds the knowing of union, wholeness, and interconnectedness, the understanding that everything is linked to everything else. The feminine expresses itself throughout the cosmos in myriad forms and ways—as a type of consciousness or knowing, as Earth, as nature, as a woman, and even as an aspect of both men and women.

As an aspect of consciousness, the feminine is natural wisdom, an understanding that often manifests as knowing without thinking. It is not the result of an intellectual process. This primordial wisdom senses and understands from within. The feminine knows its unity with “all” in the same way a pregnant mother knows her union with her unborn child—through experience. Feminine consciousness is the original and innate way of experiencing and understanding life as an organic whole where everything is in relationship to everything else. This unity just is.




When we live from feminine consciousness, life is experienced as wondrous and alive. There is a natural sense of togetherness and belonging. Like the first years of life, when we inhabit a magical, luminous world, there is no separation or individualized awareness. The child does not experience herself separate from her mother; the human being does not experience herself separate from nature. They are one.

With the higher development of intellectual capacities, human attention shifted from the whole to the part. We left the arms of the mother, and like a child who can walk on her own, we moved further and further away to see, touch, and understand each thing individually. At first we could still see the mother, but when we ventured around the corner she disappeared from sight. When we began to experience our distance, we saw ourselves as separate, as individuals. We developed a sense of “I,” “me,” and “mine”—and the natural feminine understanding of unity was largely abandoned.

While the feminine awareness holds an understanding that is intrinsic and all- encompassing, this next step in the development of consciousness has a masculine quality that is both detached and specific. Unlike the undifferentiated receptivity of the feminine consciousness, the masculine consciousness is analytical. It perceives life as if through a magnifying glass, seeing primarily the part that is in focus. Through this lens the universe is investigated, categorized and dissected to reveal more and more detail. Great scientific and technological advances have been gained as a result of this stage of our evolution.

This view through a magnifying glass emphasizes the importance of the parts, their qualities, contributions, and what makes each one special and unique. However, this limited view can make us lose sight of the whole. By focusing on our individual selves, our sense of “I” becomes enlarged, leading us to lose the perspective and the feeling of being one among billions. From this focalized field of perception the part can seem unrelated to the whole.


Just as a child interested in understanding the functioning of a toy might take it apart and be incapable of putting it back together, we have lost as a society our capacity to get back to the whole. By living primarily through a consciousness of separation, we have slowly dismantled our world into a myriad of disconnected pieces, leaving our lives devoid of meaning and value. This dismemberment has negatively impacted the Earth and the feminine aspect in each of us.

As a culture we have forgotten the way of the sacred feminine principle; we have abandoned it, dismissed it, and wounded it. The sustained emphasis on the part over the whole, on “I” over “we,” and “mine” over “ours,” as well as the value we place on intellectual understanding over natural knowing, have created an imbalance. Dismembering the world has caused its meaning to be lost and the purpose of life to be forgotten. Life has lost its sacredness and now we experience it as arid and hollow. The void that many feel has reached such a degree that something within us has begun to cry out loudly; it is the Spirit within calling us back to unity.

In some Western societies, many feel this call as a sign to return to the old days of the goddess. This sense is particularly strong in some women. But the reality is that while there is a clear call back to an experience of oneness, we are no longer the holders of an undifferentiated perception. We have evolved. Masculine consciousness has given us a wider perspective, a different kind of knowing.

We are confronted with a dilemma: we cannot continue living in this state of separation and disconnection, and at the same time we cannot go back to that sense of unconscious unity. We are being asked for a different experience of oneness, one that reconnects us with the knowing of togetherness and interconnection with all in a new way. At this point in history, we are being called to rise to a new evolution of consciousness. We are presented with the unique opportunity to weave the disconnected parts of life together from a state of full awareness.

This new dimension of consciousness, the way of the conscious weaver, is relational and feminine in nature because it weaves together the separated parts of life by perceiving what they have in common. It connects the feminine with masculine awareness, which notices the unique attribute that each part contributes to enrich and make possible the whole. The knowing of the conscious weaver contains the whole and the part. This awareness of our interconnectivity can bring healing to the wounds of desolation, water our arid hearts, and welcome meaning back into life.




We can bring this awareness into our daily lives in simple ways. While cooking a meal, typing a letter, or changing a diaper, we can notice how our activity relates to something or someone else. We can see how when we feed others, we are giving and receiving love. We can remember where the food we eat comes from. We can feel grateful to those who spend their lives working, building, and inventing new things that make our lives easier. We can remember that someone right now, somewhere, may be doing the same thing we are doing and may have the same needs we have. Through this remembrance, we can see how nature nurtures us and how we can nurture life. By witnessing and consciously experiencing how the thread of life weaves everything together and unites all, the miracle, grandeur, and magic of existence become visible once again.

Just as the first photo of the Earth taken from space showed us that we are one, this new awareness recognizes from afar what we always felt to be true inside—our oneness, our essential unity. This new relational consciousness is the bridge that unites feminine knowing with masculine understanding, the next step in our evolutionary process.



By Alex Warden
Light of Consciousness 
Journal 2013



RELATIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS and the FEMININE 


a 10 minute Podcast: M.McFeely interviews Alex Warden

a conversation about the 

Importance of the Feminine in Birthing the New Level of Consciousness of Humanity

– a Relational Consciousness that perceives the Oneness of Life in Full Awareness –

to listen, please press on the title below:







The Feminine Principle and Our Evolution of Consciousness

A few excerpts from my latest article recently published in
Light of Consciousness Journal Summer 2013, VOL. 25 NO. 2.
--and posted with these lovely images on Light of Consciousness Facebook Page.


As an aspect of consciousness, the feminine is natural wisdom, an understanding that often manifests as Knowing without thinking. This primordial wisdom senses and understands from within. -- Alex Warden, The Feminine Principle and Our Evolution of Consciousness



By witnessing and consciously experiencing how the thread of life weaves everything together and unites all, the miracle, grandeur, and magic of existence becomes visible once again.


When we live from the feminine consciousness, life is experienced as wondrous and alive. There is a natural sense of togetherness and belonging...The child does not experience herself separate from her mother, the human does not experience herself separate from nature. 
They are One.




The feminine knows its unity with “all” in the same way a pregnant mother knows her union with her unborn child--through experience. 



“If we understand the universe as an increasing embodiment of consciousness or spirit, we can appreciate how consciousness has been incarnating into matter, rooting into substance, or as depicted in the Bible, by being breathed into the dust of the ground. Matter, a word that in its ancient origin signifies mother, source and substance, represents what is often called the Feminine Principle.”

“The Feminine Principle, worshiped for thousands of years as the goddess, the feminine side of God and the sacred feminine, is the protective womb of the spirit, the container that brings the uncreated into existence, the cup that holds the meaning of life, as well as the web that keeps the whole of life together. This principle holds the knowing of union, wholeness and interconnectedness, the understanding that everything is linked to everything else. The feminine expresses itself throughout the cosmos in myriad forms and ways—as a type of consciousness or knowing, as Earth, as nature, as a woman, and even as an aspect of both men and women.”




WOMEN in POWER 


Megan McFeely interviews Alex Warden

to listen to this 15' podcast, please press below










MEETING  DEATH


I woke up on Monday feeling light, relaxed. Like most mornings, it took me a while to be fully awake and feel my body. It seemed fine. I rose to sit up but could not. There was a sharp pain in my lower back. A vertebra had pinched a nerve. My body tightened; it did not let me turn to either side. The pain went up the spine until it reached between my shoulder blades, behind my heart. A stabbing sensation shortened my breath to a minimum. My neck was next. The immobilization now was total. A soft moan, some tears. I tried to push my head and shoulders backwards to expand the chest. It did not work. Instead, the effort made my body slide off the side of the bed. I hit the floor with the weight of a dead body.

My husband heard the noise and came to my aid. He massaged and aligned my body with care. My back cracked like fireworks as he stretched it. I spent the next couple days with my body armor on—lower back, upper back, and neck straps and holders. Lying down was uncomfortable, so was sitting, standing was the worst. Discomfort, much discomfort, reactivity, flashes of nervousness and irritability. I felt like screaming and screamed some, and took painkillers.

By Thursday morning, I felt much better. I took the straps and holders off and was able to walk with care, to turn slowly and to sit with my back straight and turn at the waist. My neck continued to be quite stiff but there was a bit more flexibility. Everything was definitely going back to normal.

For many years, from time to time I had had similar arthritic episodes. Although each had been getting more painful and incapacitating over time, I had grown kind of used to them by now. Nevertheless, they bothered me all the same, every single time. Aging is a persistent teacher.

Thursday evening when I was resting on an armchair watching a movie while waiting for my husband to finish some reading and join me for dinner, from one moment to the next, I felt ill, very ill. It was not the bones. This time it was my belly. It did not feel like food poisoning or bladder or kidney stones. I recognized all those. This was not anything I knew.

In a matter of seconds, an excruciating pain spread all over my body. My senses got blocked. It was as if a thick transparent cover, which stopped all connection with the outside world, enveloped me. I only heard, felt, inside me. A metallic, nauseating noise rang in my ears and a vibration like tiny ants walking everywhere shook me. It was hard to think; I just embraced myself, held myself the best I could. My head, heavy as a rock, pulled my torso forward against my legs. I tried to sit up, but it was impossible. The pain brought me to my knees, onto the floor. My husband was only a few yards away, in the next room. I tried calling him. My voice was low, inward. I managed to say his name. Caught up in his reading, he asked me what I needed but I was barely able to speak. After what seemed like years, I was able to repeat his name. 

Time dissolved. I do not know how long it took for my husband to get to where I was; I was going in and out of consciousness. I remember looking sideways at one point, and seeing him looking at me with a worried expression. He was unsuccessfully trying to keep my head up and kept calling my name. My husband was scared. The noise in my ears, inside my head, got louder. My voice went lower, to a murmur. This pain was strange, indescribable. I felt a boiling heat running through my nerves, my veins, and my muscles. It felt like a powerful invisible hand tightened and twisted my upper body, my head, and my legs, like one does with a wet cloth about to be hung on a rope under the sun.

However, slowly I became aware that there was a deep silence and calmness inside and all around me. I was absorbed in this silence and calm more and more, such peace. The mind was thoughtless. My eyelids, heavy, kept closing, wanting to fall asleep. There was sweetness in the air. There was stillness. It felt like a delicate caress. I tried to tell my husband that everything was all right…the pain did not matter any more. Nothing mattered, nothing. I felt lighter and far away. In that moment, I knew I was dying. My husband knew it too.

The room felt empty as if I were alone, not lonely, but alone. A prayer came to my lips. With the little awareness that was left, I breathed in and out the mantra, the name of God, and tried to be with the moment. Something in me wanted to stay conscious. It was difficult. In my heart I called my Teacher, his Teacher, and her Teacher’s Teacher, our spiritual lineage. I prayed that they helped me and stayed with me. I felt with God. I felt ready.

All the while, my husband desperately continued trying to help me get up and was wondering aloud how he could make me feel better. He brought me some water, wanted to call an ambulance, a doctor, anything. I just mumbled no. I had fought my way back into health every time sickness or illness had stricken me. This time was different. The pain did not upset me; neither did it anger me or make me afraid. There was no resistance in me, only acceptance.

A few minutes passed, maybe hours, maybe more. I do not know how or why but I did not leave. I am still here, very much alive. It took me several days to get better. I continue to feel tired easily.

A few days after my collapse, I remembered a dream I had the night before it occurred. In it, a man gave me a medicine that healed me. The dream did not seem important at the time and I had quickly forgotten about it. But once I recalled it, it made me wonder. What did it mean? Could it have been that this man’s medicine was what kept me alive? Or could this dream have been an announcement, a warning of what would happen that evening? Or did it point to something else I might find out in the future? Hard to know for sure…

Death did not want me after all, not yet. But I am glad she came. On our brief meeting, I learned from death something aging had not been able to teach me in all these years—surrender.


by Alex Warden

THE FEMININE LIGHT IN THE MIDDLE EAST SYMPOSIUM


The Final thirty-one minute Video is Online for all to watch. Speakers of all walks of life were present. A great event!








Click below to watch the video: 



Or if you were unable to connect with YouTube, please go to: 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaI_VweykfI


You can find two short parts of my talk on minutes 3'50'' and 12'50''

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Please take a moment to Check Out the Photo Album with a few pictures from the Talks and Retreats in Argentina and Chile that took place last October and November '12. The events were incredible! So much more than I could have ever hoped or imagined... I felt so honored to host such wonderful events.

Here is a little pick.  This is the view from the Meditation Room in the Retreat Center in Chile. The energy of the place was palpable.







Short Video


Dear Friends,


I invite you to watch the short video (by D.W.White) of this wonderful book, 



“Dummy, a Memoir”

It is the amazing true story of a man who could not read or write--a story of tragedy turned into triumph.


This trailer includes a few short interviews to professionals who speak about the profound impact David Patten's book had on them. I was lucky to be included among the interviewees (minute 5:01).


To watch the 7 minute video, please press here:  Dummy, a Memoir by David Patten 
or go to (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HLpK4zmFOc&feature=youtu.be)



A New Step in Consciousness 10/2012



RELATIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS: 
A NEW STEP in the EVOLUTION of CONSCIOUSNESS






You are Welcome to Read my New Article (Below) 

THE FEMININE LIGHT IN THE MIDDLE EAST SYMPOSIUM











The institute has posted a short video of some the presenters and our talks. 


You can have a peek at my talk in minute 3:22 of the video below:










BEHIND THE TEARS



Weyden,_Rogier_van_der_-_Descent_from_the_Cross_-_Detail_women_(left).jpg



I cried and cried and cried.  I have been crying everyday for months. I am still crying.

I told myself many reasons why I could not stop. It is my kids leaving home to go to college; it’s my friend’s illness; it’s the idea of moving to a new home and leaving the protection of the walls I know so well...

Every time I cried, I looked for something that would justify the uncalled tears inundating my eyes, that would make my chest heat up, full of something I could not put into words. And while the departure of my kids or my friend’s disease indeed make me sad, most of my tearing had nothing to do with them.

I cried at home, in the streets, on the phone. I cried watching the sun rise and set, at the sight of a baby, and hearing a bird singing in the distance…I cried watching a movie, listening to the radio news, singing a soft rock song.

I just could not stop crying.

My tears seemed to come and go as they pleased—when I was not sad nor felt like crying either. In a way, they were very impersonal. And yet, at the same time, everything that happened around me somewhere felt deeply intimate. It was as if I had made mine, as if I had taken possession of something—an event, a situation, an encounter—that originally did not belong to me, but whose emotion, the feeling it provoked in me made it mine. I knew it did not belong to me, but I was partaking of the experience of it nonetheless, as if I had been invited to commune with it.

I cried translating my Teacher’s writings, reading a mystic’s life, and wording the prayers of the beguines. I cried while meditating, while watching the plums and apples redden, and while smelling the lavender flowers that grow in my garden. I cried when a child got hurt and when another happily licked a lollipop as big as his face. It is as if I was raw, my skin too thin to stop anything from coming in.

It was not that I was clinging to the emotions that came either. Tears came and went as things and events came and went. Water flooded my eyes in the very moment when the feeling, the emotion of the experience took place…and then they left. I wanted to find an explanation to what was taking place, but all I felt was confusion.

I ended up believing that I was falling into some kind of depression. I thought I needed some medicine…to  go to the doctor or to a new therapy. I took on yoga.

But every yoga class ended with me leaving as fast as I could, barely waving my hand good-bye, so that no one would see my tears falling. It felt that the relaxation, the opening of my chest, the stretching of my tight body, was not a remedy but rather a pill which made more acute this already hypersensitive state.

What was really happening to me?

Was I getting too old and weak?

Was I going mad?

Finally I shared my concern with a group of meditation friends…just to put the situation out in the open and get some perspective. A few kind and true observations were given—that after all I am Latina and one that is very emotional. Talking about this brought a few laughs and a few more tears.

Later we fell into silence and we meditated. And it was then that I saw something, which suggested like a kind of answer, something quite vague in the beginning that slowly began to take shape.

Yes I was raw; yes my skin had thinned up to the point of not being able to stop anything from coming in… Everything was too close to me. Everything touched me to my core—the taste, the smell, the touch, the hearing, the sight—of… and this is what surprised me… of life happening… the beauty and the horror, the joy and the pain; I was experiencing everything first hand without any packaging, unveiled, and uncooked.

Like a door opened in that moment and I understood something.

God lives in the myriad expressions of the life I was experiencing so intimately. He was present and I was experiencing Him, in my own body, through my own heart and my own senses. God, Life had been touching me so deeply… and I was able and lucky to feel it. Life and I were interlaced in the sense that I felt it as if whatever was taking place, was happening to me directly even though I was, and I knew I was, just a witness. The main character was life itself happening. But I was so identified with it that it felt like it was happening to me…and it was happening to me, in a sense it was, and in a sense it was not. It was both.  A degree of oneness.

So I knew. I know. My crying, the tears in my eyes at this very moment are grace.




By Alex Warden