• Nadja Eriksson

I thought I could conduct energy well, but then this happened…

Updated: Aug 15


The beat of the music thumps rhythmically into the Earth, like the DJ was trying to penetrate Her with his tunes.


A dim half-light hovers over the awakening night sky. During these mysterious hours, when the veil between this world and the spirit world is permeable and thin like spiderwebs, I’m called to venture outside.


For the past 6 hours, my sisters and I have spent the better part of the night in our womb cave–a tiny room I’d rented over the weekend that’s part of a friend’s property where this wild party is unfolding.


Curtains drawn to block out the night sky, radiators on full force to create heat, it's as dark, sweltering and intimate as it can get.


In our sacred womb-cave, we pray, giggle, and open up to Her through meditation, incantation, and transmission. We are innocent, pure, and full of wonder.


She is right there with us. I can feel Her in every cell of my being: the divine mother, the sacred feminine, the Goddess Herself.


Her blessing to the three of us is tangible.


We are guided home in the most gentle and loving way. There’s a rawness and vulnerability in our meeting that needs protecting and nurturing.


The truth is, I’m not yet ready to meet the outside world. But the call to explore is getting louder (along with my need to pee).


As we venture onto the outer terrace of this quaint Swedish cottage, I hear our host joking about his excruciating hangover.


He’d been nursing it all day: a whole bottle of rum and a big doobie – all consumed within the better part of ninety minutes. That combination can knock out even the most seasoned rock star.


I’m trying to listen but soon find myself zoning out. “Too many words”, I think. “I can’t feel you.”


But then the feeling hits me like a tidal wave. I’m forced onto my knees. As hot tears are pushing through my eyes, I start sobbing uncontrollably.


“This is not mine,” I keep thinking. But I can’t speak because I’m coughing my lungs out.


Vomiting energy, I’m purging something that feels like frozen grief. His grief.


But what does it matter? It’s in the collective field. Mine or theirs, who cares? It’s what wants to move.


Ten minutes later, I’m lying face-down on the ground, my womb growing roots into the soil. I’m becoming one with Earth.


She speaks to me without words. I can feel Her inside my bones. A deep humility comes over me, along with a no-BS urgency and seriousness.


This festival has no ground. The feminine has no space here. We’re walking, dancing, and feasting on Her, but we don’t pay Her any reverence. She needs our love and care. This is not a joke. This is not a joke. This is not a joke…!


My sisters are hovering over me, trying to understand.


Am I making any sense? How can mere words express what I know to be true in my soul? Language suddenly becomes very small, limited, and insufficient.


Someone hands me a glass of water while another smudges me with sacred wood.


And then, as quickly as the experience started, it's all over again.


Now I’m standing upright, composed with a graceful poker face. As if nothing at all had happened.


When my boozy friend jokes about what a purge I just had, I laugh it off. No need to explain anything.


However, I want to retreat back to our womb cave. I need safety.


Like a newborn baby, my skin feels too sensitive for the rough cotton towels or the latex-clad fingers of the hospital staff. I need the naked warmth of my mother’s body.


Back on the bed we hold hands and breathe, talking about what just happened. I’m trying to ground the experience, but it is hard to soothe my shaking nervous system. What did happen?! A transmission of sorts, a call from Her to awaken, listen, be more humble…?


When the day is fully drawing, the beat of the electronic music still pounds over the dance altar.


We’re now sitting alone on the garden bench, listening to the bird song and marveling at the first light.


And there, through the trees, appears my favorite witch.


She’s stone-cold sober and has spent the better part of the night dancing with other people’s magical spirits.


She comes bearing gifts from the Goddess–dried papaya and cashew nuts. The fruit feels like a taste explosion on my tongue. Its sweetness is swiftly bringing me back into the body, the home I’ve abandoned during the night.


Still somewhat lost after these events, her presence and aliveness remind me of what I’m missing.


Finally, I ask her, “Please, help me come back into my body. I think I’m a bit out of it.”


She looks me straight into the eyes and asks if I want this trip to be over. Without a doubt, I say, “Yes!”


So she goes to her caravan and returns with a long pipe made of horn and some ultra fine powder.


Hapé, the herbal snuff cherished by indigenous tribes all throughout South America, is a medicinal blend used to tune into nature. After she blows it up my nose, she works on cleansing my energy body.


I’m receiving an energetic shower: all the yucky stuff that had stuck to me is being rinsed off. Then, golden light is shooting into me from down below.


Forever grateful, I look at her like she’s my savior.


“You’ve got to be careful what you open up to, girl. With your high level of sensitivity, you have a lot to conduct in this lifetime. And remember, the pure feminine has no boundaries. She flows with everything. So keep working through your own blockages, so that the energy can flow through you more effortlessly. And remember, this is the world. You can’t be too pure here. You’ve got to play a little dirty sometimes.”


As she says these last words, she makes the rock star hand sign and gives me a mischievous wink.


This is my cue. I look to my girlfriends, then to the dance floor.


“Let’s go make love to Her!”


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