A Woman's Long Lost Wayfinder

how reacquanting with your womb will change your life and the world

An excerpt from my Working with Your Womb Guide

A Note From Me

Before I invite you into the practice itself, I want to share how this relationship found me.

A few months ago, I stumbled across a YouTube video of a female shaman speaking about the womb. She said the most powerful thing a woman could do was to build a relationship with it—and then begin creating from that place. She described the womb as the easiest place to manifest from.

She said the womb creates before thought.
That it doesn’t lie to itself.
That it understands timing.
That it mirrors the earth.
That it knows how to hold without forcing—and release without gripping.

I sat with that for a while. When I considered what I already knew about the womb—what it can grow, what it can sustain, what it has carried inside me my entire life—I realized it must hold a kind of power far beyond my understanding.

I was intrigued. And I wanted to experience it for myself.

So I began building a relationship with my womb in a very simple way. I started asking it questions every morning and every night. Questions like What do you need right now? or What do you want to create? I thanked it for being with me my entire life. I thanked it for creating my daughter—the greatest miracle I know. If my womb could grow her, it already felt like absolute magic to me.

At first, nothing really happened.

For weeks, I didn’t receive answers the way I expected. No clear messages. No dramatic sensations. Just the quiet practice of showing up and listening anyway. Honestly, I felt frustrated. I considered giving up more than once. But something in me wanted to keep going.

And then, slowly, something shifted.

I began to see images or hear words when I asked my questions. One day, when I asked how I could take care of my womb, I received two images: blueberries and a grass skirt.

I was completely perplexed.

Eventually—and somewhat begrudgingly, because it felt a little unsacred—I asked ChatGPT to help me interpret the symbols. I was shocked by how deeply the message resonated. I’m sharing it here so you can see how even a couple of simple images can carry profound meaning.

Blueberries came through as a message of small, potent nourishment. From the womb’s perspective, they suggested that what I needed was simple, not grand. That nourishment could be sweet, gentle, and frequent. That tiny things, done consistently, create vitality. Blueberries aren’t a feast food—they’re gathered one by one. This pointed to tending rather than striving, trusting accumulation over force, choosing what’s naturally available instead of what’s engineered.

Because blueberries grow low to the ground, they also carried the message of staying close to the earth—receiving without reaching, nourishment without performance. It felt like my womb was saying: Feed me what is simple, alive, and within reach.

The message from the grass skirt gave me goosebumps. It carried themes of movement, protection, and embodied rhythm. Not armor—but covering that moves. Protection without restriction. An invitation to sway, to breathe, to dance. Grass is flexible, renewable, rooted but not rigid.

The grass skirt felt like a request for more movement in my hips, sensuality without exposure, ritual without heaviness. It also felt ancestral—movement for the body itself, not performance for an audience. The message was clear: Let me move. Let me be adorned lightly. Let me be felt, not managed.

Together, the images formed a cohesive message: simple nourishment, gentle adornment, rhythmic movement, earth-based pleasure. Not excess. Not deprivation. Sufficiency and sensuality. Almost like my womb was saying, Feed me simply. Let me sway. We will grow from there.

This message came to me during a time when I was in a freeze state from stress. I hadn’t moved much in days. I was sad, worried, and undernourished. While it took effort to put on music and dance, it felt deeply comforting to receive the sense that no matter how dark things felt, rhythm wasn’t out of reach.

My womb wanted me to feel better. And that made me feel held.

It felt maternal. Like a mother. Like a grandmother. Like an aunt.

Even though it still amused me that I needed a “middleman” to interpret the symbolism, I decided that would be my method when meaning wasn’t immediately clear. Because it worked. It helped me reorient toward the way I actually want to live. And honestly—who cares how the message arrives if it brings you home?

Now, when I ask my womb questions, I almost always receive images or words. I love witnessing her intelligence. Through listening to her wisdom, I’ve learned to trust myself more. That trust has changed how I move through the world. I feel more confident in my decisions, more anchored in my body, and less dependent on external validation.

Many of the seeds I’ve planted in my womb—intentions, desires, inner shifts—have come to me with an ease I hadn’t experienced before. This was very different from my experiences with traditional law-of-attraction practices. There was no forcing, no constant visualizing, no pressure to maintain a certain emotional state. Instead, there was regulation, relationship, and release.

I’ll give you an example. I’ve wanted to record music my entire life but felt completely blocked from the possibility. It was one of my deepest wishes, yet I couldn’t envision it actually happening. I asked my womb for help, and I got started recording effortlessly a couple days later. I just suddenly had the energy to do it.

I was ecstatic. And somehow, I now have complete confidence in my ability to make the music I have always dreamed about. This shift couldn’t have felt more complete.

Thank you, womb!!

Another thing I love about this practice is seeing myself as earth—and my womb as one of the ways I consciously relate to myself as earth: living, cyclical, responsive, and wise beyond linear logic.

The practice is still mysterious to me. I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. But I love deepening the relationship—listening, trusting, and co-creating with something inside me that feels ancient and alive.

I hope you enjoy connecting with your womb as much as I have. To me, it feels like a direct connection to what is sacred. I hope this practice helps you feel supported and held. I hope it shocks you with your own creative power.

Thank you for being here with me. I love you.

<3, Eden

You can find the full guide here: guide

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