A Conversation with Desert Woman on Truth, Abundance, and Self-Love
Recently, I received a prompt to reflect deeply while opening myself to the wisdom of the Desert Woman Earth Archetype "What is the truth of your situation?"
At first, all I heard was noise—a relentless storm of thoughts, doubts, and old fears clamouring for attention. But beneath the chaos, something else stirred. A truth pressing against the edges of my awareness, demanding to be seen.
It told me how I hoard abundance, tucking it away in hidden corners, keeping it safe for imagined days of scarcity instead of letting it flow freely into the world. When it comes to money or material wealth, perhaps that instinct makes sense (though even that is debatable). But when it comes to creations, to ideas? It makes no sense at all.
Because in hoarding them, I hide my own light. I keep my beauty locked away, unseen and unappreciated.
What good is a masterpiece that never leaves the artist’s studio?
What impact can a voice have if it never dares to speak?
By keeping my gifts to myself, I deny them the chance to be recognized, to be loved, to be celebrated. And in doing so, I deny myself the recognition, the love, the abundance that I deserve.
True abundance isn’t something to be stockpiled in secret. It’s meant to be shared, to ripple outward, to create waves. And perhaps the greatest irony is this: the more I give, the more I have.
But another truth emerges, one that cuts even deeper.
I don’t love myself enough—or at least, not in a way that feels truly loving.
I say I care for myself, but too often, my actions tell a different story. I still reach for things that numb rather than nourish, distract rather than heal. I turn to food for comfort, to endless hours of TV to quiet the restless ache inside me. Maybe there’s more—other small, insidious ways I chip away at myself without fully realizing it.
The patterns of self-destruction aren’t as obvious as they once were, but they’re still there, lurking beneath the surface.
And maybe that’s the hardest truth of all. That even after all the healing, all the growth, there’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe I deserve to be fully, beautifully, abundantly loved—especially by myself.
But even as these realizations unfold, I feel stuck—circling the same thoughts without truly breaking free.
I am getting nowhere.
So I ask: "Do I see the whole picture?"
"No", says Desert Woman.
"Desert Woman, please help me see the whole truth."
Silence. Then, after a while, she speaks.
"Listen," she says. "You are too harsh with yourself."
I pause, caught off guard.
"Why do you always search for the flaws? Why do you dig through your soul as if you’re hunting for evidence of your own unworthiness?"
I don’t have an answer. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s fear—fear that if I stop being critical, I’ll stop growing. Maybe I think I have to earn my own love, prove myself before I deserve kindness.
But then a sharper question rises, unbidden.
"What am I lying to myself about?"
Desert Woman watches me carefully, as if waiting for me to listen to my own silence.
"The truth of your situation is that you are OK."
The words land differently—not as empty reassurance, but as something deeper. A truth I have been too busy critiquing myself to recognize.
"You are bigger than you think. Greater than you allow yourself to believe. Why do you keep dimming? Stop pretending to be small. Own your genius. Own your truth."
Something shifts in my chest, a tightness I hadn’t noticed before.
"And stop hiding."
Her voice is firm now. "Stop burying yourself in your supposed issues—the weight, the food, the lack, the failure. You don’t belong there. You never did."
I swallow hard.
"Open up."
A pause.
"Open up to dance and shine.
Open up to sing and shine.
Open up to write and shine.
Open up to create and shine.
Open up to receive.
You are the light."
I sit with her words. Let them settle.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t argue. I don’t resist. I don’t twist myself into knots searching for counterpoints.
Desert Woman sighs. "And don’t you see? You are already so lucky."
The word feels foreign, unfamiliar in my mouth.
"Look at all you have. Look at how far you’ve come. The wisdom, the creativity, the sheer stubbornness that has carried you through every storm. Can you not see the abundance in your own hands?"
And suddenly, I do.
I let gratitude rise.
A flicker of something softer, something warmer. Gratitude. Not just for what I have, but for myself—for still being here, for still trying, for still becoming.
Gratitude for Desert Woman, for her wisdom, for her patience. For the way she sees me when I struggle to see myself.
And gratitude for where I am now. For the clarity, however new and fragile it may be. For the knowing that I can choose differently. That I can step forward, unhidden, open, radiant.
That I can love myself—not just in theory, but in practice.
That I can shine.
And that I will.
Voilà …
I believe that is all for today.
I would be so happy to hear from you.
Please like, comment, share and subscribe to my content if you find it inspiring.
I send, as always, love, light and gratitude.
Isaya
PS: All the pictures in this article is me showing myself some more love (Valentine’s day is coming soon right!) and playing with AI and my portrait!
PS1: If you’re interested to learn more about Desert Woman and the other four Earth Archetypes uncovered by Mary Reynolds Thompson, you can read her book: The Way of the Wild Soul Woman: 5 Earth Archetypes to Unleash Your Full Feminine Power or have a look on her website and take the quiz:https://www.maryreynoldsthompson.com/
PS2: Want to Live a Goddess Life daily? Grab my freebie here:
https://isayabelle.com/living-a-goddess-life-handbook-sign-up
PS3: I am now on Substack, sharing my writing adventures over there too… If you’re interested, you subscribe for free here:https://substack.com/@isayabelle
