Awakening the Psychedelic Feminine
A Guided Journey Through Archetype, Womb, and Fire
The psychedelic feminine is not just a concept. She’s a living, breathing frequency that moves through your body, your breath, your blood, and your becoming.
She is the dream, the descent, the dance. She is the wisdom that doesn’t arrive in bullet points but in pulses, in goosebumps, in womb-tugs of truth. She reveals herself not in straight lines, but in spirals. And you don’t so much “understand” her as you remember her, in your bones, your hips, your howl.
The psychedelic feminine is the wild, cyclical, sensual, intuitive essence that lives inside every woman. She’s the mystic, the seer, the oracle, the erotic pulse that surges from womb to throat. She is the part of you that knows, deeply, innately, who you are beneath the conditioning. The version of you that emerges when you strip away the masks, the expectations, the default mode network looping over itself trying to make sense of a linear world.
She’s not neat or logical. She lives in your bleed. In your body’s rhythmic rise and fall. In the way you shapeshift through archetypes, mother, lover, wild woman, mystic, sometimes all in the space of a single day. She speaks in archetype, in metaphor, in art and symbol. She’s kaleidoscopic, a living mandala of facets, not singular, not fixed. She’s poetry, not scripture. Sensation, not instruction. Intuition, not intellect.
And she’s not always beautiful, not in the polished, pretty, patriarchal sense. The psychedelic feminine is primal. She’s birth and death. She’s snot and tears and breastmilk and blood. She’s the moan and the growl. She’s the purge and the praise. She’s the one on her knees at the altar of her own transformation, raging and surrendering in the same breath.
She is, quite literally, the psychedelic experience made flesh.
Because for those of us who’ve worked with plant medicines, we know: the ceremony isn’t always graceful. It’s chaotic, emotional, nonlinear, full-spectrum. It takes us into ego death, emotional release, dismemberment, remembrance. And what I’ve come to realise, through years of sitting in ceremony and supporting others through deep integration, is that the feminine body already knows how to do this. We already move through cycles of death and rebirth every month in our wombs. Our bleed is a ceremony. Our grief is a ceremony. Our orgasm is a ceremony. Our motherhood is a ceremony.
To be in a womb body is to be in constant transformation.
And when I became pregnant, that truth hit me like nothing else ever had. I’d sat with mushrooms, with ayahuasca, with breath and vision. But nothing compared to the depth of the initiation that happened through my own body during pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. It was psychedelic. It was the medicine. The purge wasn’t metaphorical, it was physical, spiritual, relentless, all fucking consuming. And what I learned was this: the psychedelic feminine lives in the body. She is the body.
She is the one who knows how to die and be reborn again and again. The one who sheds her skin like the kundalini serpent. The one who moans when the world tells her to be quiet. The one who bleeds when the world tells her to hide. The one who wants more. More depth. More sensation. More truth. More aliveness.
She is found in the sacred cycle, the wheel of the year, the moon, the menstruation, the breath. Every inhale is spring, every pause is summer, every exhale is autumn, every emptiness is winter. The spiral of the seasons lives within us. And within that spiral lives wisdom.
To walk with the psychedelic feminine is to enter the red tent of your own soul. It is to sit at the fire with every part of yourself you once thought was too much or not enough. It’s shadow work, nervous system work, archetypal work. It’s ancestral work, sexual reclamation, womb awakening. It’s throwing the performance of spirituality on the Beltane fire and dancing around it, dripping in sweat and salt and soul.
She’s not here to make you look spiritual. She’s here to bring you home to your own body, your own truth, your own voice, your own rhythm.
And yes, there are many ways into her realm. Plant medicines can open the door, but so can your bleed, grief, birth, dance, a fuck, a poem, a piece of art that undoes you.
She will meet you where you are. She will whisper, You already hold the key. She will not give you answers. She will awaken your knowing.
So when I speak of the psychedelic feminine, I speak of an energy that is sovereign, cyclical, sacred, and completely alive within you, not something to chase, not something to earn, but something to remember.
This is why I am creating the Psychedelic Feminine Oracle Deck alongside my cocreatrix Lara Raybone, to give image, symbol, and voice to this energy. To offer a visual portal for women to meet these archetypes within themselves and remember their own gnosis. And it’s why I offer guided journeys like the one you’re invited into today. Not as teachings, but as transmissions. Not as theory, but as felt experience. Because this energy cannot be taught. It must be lived.
I recently had the honour of guest speaking for Lara Raybone’s Beloved membership, and it was one of those deeply resonant moments where everything just aligned, timing, energy, season, soul. We’ve been in creative collaboration for a while now, and it felt incredibly special to bring some of that magic into her community in this way.
As a Beltane/ Calan Mai gift, I’d love to gift you the recording of that session, a chance to join us for the guided journey we went on, an embodied initiation into the realm of the psychedelic feminine.
This was no ordinary workshop. It was a transmission, a remembering, a reclamation. Together, we explored what it means to walk with the psychedelic feminine, not as an idea or a trend, but as a living archetypal force that moves through the body, through the womb, through the earth, through the firelight of our becoming.
We spoke of her many entry points: plant medicine, yes, but also birth, menstruation, grief, eroticism, creativity, shapeshifting archetypes, seasonal rites, and ancestral memory. The psychedelic feminine isn’t linear or polished, she’s cyclical, raw, wild, and utterly sacred. She dances at the edge of what’s comfortable, dissolving shame and awakening your deep body wisdom.
This journey was recorded on Beltane, the Celtic festival of fertility, fire, and sensual celebration, a time when our connection to the earth and our own aliveness is potent and overflowing. It felt like the perfect portal to explore this frequency.
During the session, I also shared a little about the Psychedelic Feminine Oracle Deck I’m currently co-creating with Lara, a deck that weaves my ceremonial photography with her art direction, creative vision, and deep archetypal wisdom. It’s a devotional offering, created to support others in accessing these inner states of remembrance through image, story, and symbol.
Play the audio for the full workshop, complete with guided journey into the psychedelic feminine – a somatic and imaginal initiation through breath, movement, sound, and sacred storytelling.
If you’ve ever felt that you are more than one thing, more than one mood, one expression, one identity, you’re not alone. This is the nature of the feminine. She is the lover and the oracle, the mother and the wild one, the priestess and the rageful storm, all dancing within you like a kaleidoscope of becoming. And through this journey, you’ll be invited to meet her, the psychedelic feminine, within yourself.
She is not something you need to earn. She is something you already are. So if you’re ready to remember… Come, step into the red tent. Join us by the fire. Let her move you.
In creativity and connection,
Rosie 🦚
All images in this article are from my oracle deck photoshoot in the Shell Grotto, a scred underground temple in Kent associated with mermaid womb priestesses, the muses for the shoot are all real life womb priestesses, Delmar, Lara and Poppy go check out their phenomenal work!
This resonated deeply with me. I am eagerly waiting for your Oracle deck. 🌙
A psychedelic feast of words. Thanks, Rosie.