We gathered in, last night, we women, under the waxing moon.
With the turtle flute made of trees from distant, Latin lands, we gathered in.
In circle, round and round, ancient melodies playing their sound, we gathered in.
With fire, earth, water, air, we pledged our shedding then and there.
Sisters, sisters, near and dear.
Sisters, sisters, we need you here.
With full bellies brimmed with life.
We let go of fear and strife.
With tears shedding at letting go
We held so close, breathed the flow.
All you women, near and far
All you beloved, born of star.
It’s time to gather in.
Let go, give up, shed your skin.
Rinse it out, from within.
For like it or not, we begin…
Last night ’twas my honor to be in sacred circle with women and honor women’s culture.
The other day a man said to me, upon my choice to go off and be with my women friends, “Oh, you girls will be in la la land, talking about nothing.”
I was in shock. That said a lot to me about his relationship with women, and I felt sad at him missing the richness of womanhood.
For, in reality, women’s relationships are deep, nourishing and sacred.
If speaking of the rite of passage of choosing to become a mother is nothing, well, then, yes, he was right.
If carrying a growing life in your womb for months and months and changing everything about the way you eat, sleep, drink and live is nothing, then, yes, yes. We talk of nothing.
If sharing the ways in which pregnancy in our bodies brings up every hidden part of our self that we have not faced, nor grown, and having to look at it, dead on, and deal with it, so we can heal fully and be present mothers, then, yes, we talk of nothing.
If sharing our struggles at falling through life groundless, knowing there never is solid ground, but facing our nature to cling, control, suffer and praying for release, trust, and letting go of our need to know the outcome is talking of nothing, again, he is right.
If creating succulent, ripe, in season food and preparing it with love and sharing it in circle with our sisters is la la land, then I love la la land. Imagine, warm, orange, sweet, squash, melting in your mouth with carmelized onions. Yum.
If sharing that we have weaned our young and for the first time in three years we are not pregnant, nor nursing and that transition is a huge transformation, for our body is ours again, and we are learning that undertaking is deeper than previously thought, well, yes, once again, we women have nothing to talk about.
If revealing that the pain and murder of our ancestors seems to dwell in our DNA and consciousness and we are finding ways to reckon with our past and heal the wounds of ancient ones, again, deeply boring?
If telling the truth about our sex, our orgasms, the way we want to be met and loved and sharing resources for loving and nurturing relationship while still maintaining our boundaries is la la land talk, then again, we are caught, ladies, why is it we having nothing to talk about?
That man, bless his heart, showed some truth of the way women’s culture may appear to men. What do women talk about has been asked by many a guy.
I imagine if we honored women as the sacred, birthing, creative vessels that we are, then we might get a glimpse into the magic of what is really is to be woman.
Were we not portrayed in mass consciousness as objects for a man’s pleasure, to be dressed up pretty and used to his liking, or we taught people the truth about womanhood, honored it, shared openly and passed it on as sacred living, perhaps he’d know better.
Full, birthing, life-giving, nurturing, magical, wild, deep, dark and mysterious, scratches the surface of the women I know, but then again, I like la la land.
May we all open, ever-more fully to honoring life. May we be in awe of the Goddess and all Her forms.
In succulence, rawness, honor, depth, and blissful waves of joy,
Rachel, I am She, Claire