rose outside home where we met, dripping with HER refreshing rain and, of course, a touch of whimsy in the little worm.
Women loving women
Having recently returned from an amazing few days in the presence of my soul sisters – the women who are my home – women loving women is much on my heart.
What really happens when women set aside all cultural norms: drop their protective shields; stop the judging of one another’s looks, homes, bodies, jewelry, relationships, and status?
We are six women. We are in our early 30s and in our late 50s. We are fine grey hair and lush blonde hair. We are five-inch heels and running shoes. We are heterosexual and we are gay. We are tall and thin and we are short and round. We are sexy tops and comfy sweatshirts. We are leggings and we are jeans. We are tattoos and we are freckled skin. We are “here I am” bouncy and “hmmm, you are so loud” quiet. We are single, we are long married. We are home owners and apartment dwellers. We love the city and we are most at home in the woods.
Can you see us? Can you hear us yelling “Anna!” at the airport? Can you feel our presence with one another, sitting in armchairs, sprawled on the couch, stretched out on the floor – listening to one another, seeing angels on the ceiling, reading cards intuitively? Being present?
But what is it we do? Who are we really? We are women who love. Women who have chosen to open our hearts to one another, to be naked in each other’s presence. We have been connected to and through one another for years. We have been together in one home for a magical few days. I kept saying “we have paid the price to be here, together, like this.” Like this? Like this – loving one another, celebrating one another, sending one another prayers, energy, light and hope – reminding one another of who we each are and of the power we have together, in circle.
But what is the price we pay for this? We stop presenting who we think you or anyone else wants to see, wants us to be. We choose to be authentic in every situation. We dismantle our protective walls, sometimes alone, sometimes with the help of one another. We leave behind the way we have been taught to be, the way we’ve been shown women “should” behave, or speak, or appear. We refuse to live on the surface and dig deep into our own hearts and into each other’s heart. We ask the tough questions bathing our words and each other in love and acceptance. We love anyways – the discomfort that one can bring to the other, the challenge of being our own true self, the not always completely understanding where the other comes from – we love anyways. We ask, always, how can this – this person, this situation – be met with love.
We are these six, we have chosen, we have comingled our essence, our spirits and we are women loving women. Sacred, holy, on fire, blessed of God, unassembled in each other’s presence, we take each piece of who we are and we offer it as a sacrifice of praise together. Women loving Women.