Mother Earths Goddess Massage & Sacred Practices for Couples

23/06/2026

22/05/2026

Ta**ra is not anti-God, anti-Jesus, or anti-faith. For many people, it actually deepens their connection to the divine, to love, to presence, and to themselves.

I think what’s frustrating is when people assume that spiritual practices outside their own beliefs automatically oppose God. Ta**ra is not about replacing faith. It’s about awareness, healing, connection, embodiment, and learning how to move through life with more consciousness and compassion.

If your path is Jesus, beautiful. If your path is Buddhism, beautiful. If your path is prayer, meditation, ta**ra, or all of the above together — beautiful.

Telling people “you only need God” may come from good intentions, but healing and spiritual growth can take many forms. Some people pray. Some go to therapy. Some meditate. Some practice ta**ra. None of those cancel out faith unless someone personally chooses that.

We don’t have to attack what we don’t understand. Different paths can still lead people toward love, peace, healing, and deeper spirituality.

Ta**ra doesn’t ask people to abandon God. A lot of us actually integrate our faith into the practice.

Not every healing modality has to compete with religion. Prayer, faith, meditation, therapy, ta**ra — these can coexist.

If something isn’t your path, that’s okay. But dismissing other people’s healing and spiritual practices just because they look different helps nobody.

10/05/2026

Mother’s Day Yoga

This Mother’s Day, celebrate the beauty of womanhood by flowing through yoga and slipping into lingerie that reminds you your sensual energy isn’t something to hide—it’s strength, softness, confidence, and life itself.

In a world that asks women to give so much away, taking time to breathe, move, and feel beautiful in your own skin is more than self-care—it’s honoring the divine feminine within you.

10/05/2026

Mother’s Day Gift 🙏🏾 to the Community of Ameca

On Mother’s Day, I walked the block
with empty hands and a borrowed bag,
not carrying flowers,
not carrying cards,
just the quiet wish
to leave something better behind.

The sidewalks had their small sorrows—
a crushed can glittering in the gutter,
a bottle rolling softly beside the curb,
wrappers pressed into the grass
like forgotten apologies.

So I bent down.

Again and again,
I bent down for the neighborhood,
for the mothers pushing strollers,
for the grandfathers on evening walks,
for the kids racing bicycles
through warm spring light.

I picked up what the wind could not keep,
what carelessness had scattered,
what everyone had learned to step around.

And slowly, the street changed.

Not into perfection—
just into something gentler.
A cleaner corner.
A safer sidewalk.
A little more room
for people to breathe easy.

No one applauded.
Most windows stayed closed.
But somewhere behind curtains,
someone would notice tomorrow morning
that the block looked loved.

And maybe that is what a gift is:
not something wrapped,
not something owed,
but a small act of tenderness
placed quietly into the hands of strangers.

Mother Earth watched from beneath our feet,
patient as ever,
while we gathered the evidence
of all we forget to cherish.

So this was my bouquet—
an armful of litter,
a cleaner street,
a neighborhood offered back to itself
with respect,
with gratitude,
with care.

Happy Mother’s Day
to every mother, every neighbor,
and to the old earth
that keeps carrying us all.