Full Moon Mamas

It has become apparent that bringing women together, particularly in a circle, is a spiritual, connective act in itself. I know circles had went by the way of leather sheets, jeggings, pink highlights, and endangered animal bone furniture for a while. But just as shake diets, eye exercises and forced intimacy immersion therapy, have re-emerged, its time has come once again to get up close and circular.

Some women feel claustrophobic when they hear the words 'women's spirituality', as if it involves militant lesbian librarians with nose rings, cat glasses and manifestos, taking them on a long, sweaty overcrowded jeep ride full of clucking chickens and over-ripe bananas to a bleeding heart liberal American Peace Corp kibbutz in a patch of deforested Amazonian rainforest and force them to eat agave-sweetened granola and drink flying squirrel tea with their cupped hands while watching anti-Vietnam War documentaries projected on questionably unbleached sheets strung between two maypoles. The women's spirituality movement isn't political, religious, and it doesn't have to chaff. It's not cloying like 'daytime dramas' or overly-sentimental like The Cat's Meow talking fish dish or a puppy-as-the-Messiah greeting card, and it doesn't require you hold a hugging party membership card.

Women coming together to weave their wisdom, tell their stories, and participate in a shared experience can be deeply connecting. The more focused intent there is, the more magic results.