when womban gather...
it heals the earth
recently, i joined the Hearth & Womb retreat with the lovely Maia & The Feminine Origin. it was a beautiful weekend filled with yoni steaming, womb and breast massage, dancing, yoga, and so much more. Our sisters shared many tears, laughs, and moments of release by the snowy lake. and i was reminded of how important this work is, the more we heal our womb, the closer we feel to god and bathe in our true essence… when you tap into power like that, nothing can stop you.
i’ve joined lots of gatherings like this, but there was something about it being in the thick of winter, when everyone is trying to build their walls higher and find warmth in familiar places—and yet here we are, a dozen women from all walks of life, looking for warmth in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people, and trusting that our grief has a safe place to land in each other’s hands.’
winter corresponds with the menstrual phase of our feminine cycle. and it was no coincidence that i was on my bleed during the retreat. at first, i thought it would be an inconvenience, but it was actually a blessing. to let myself shed in an intentional space filled with so much nourishment, love, and care, was exactly what my womb needed, and thus, what i needed.
it made me think about the times when womban would spend their bleed outside the village, connecting to nature, recording their dreams, and bringing their wisdom back to community. and while i didn’t know in the moment, i realize i was on a similar pilgrimage. I was on a mission to unfold all the things stuck to my body, and call my power back without guilt or fear, so that i can realign with my purpose. and share my truth with you all.
i’ve been spending a lot of time lately, trying to imagine where my next move will take me. and because we’ve had an especially harsh winter, i’ve been spending extra time plotting my relocation. but i realize the womb needs all seasons to fully express itself—to fully shed the things we’re not meant to carry. and that even if i move to an island where it’s sunny all the time, i’ll still be facing the wounds i couldn’t heal here in toronto.
discomfort has become synonymous with wombanhood. but that’s not a bad thing, after all, discomfort is what helps bring new life into the world. and considering the state of our collective, that’s truly needed now more than ever. being in stillness with the pain, and finding the courage to undress your heart with sisters is a gift.
discomfort brings the cold, but coldness does not bring discomfort, it simply is. it protects us by urging us to rest, feel, and most importantly, release. our resistance to change and pain will be our undoing. luckily, us womban are no stranger to this cycle of contracting and expanding. it’s written in our bones. and that is the magic i offer you in this strange, non-coherent entry: the discomfort means that something is working. if we were in constant expansion, we’d tire out and die. trust that the pain is here to teach you something. fall into your inner winter with the love and reverence it deserves.