We, brown embodied wombmen danced and drummed under a Scorpio Blue Moon, around a fire pit we built together, heeding the instructions of our Sage who showed us how. Our nervous systems visibly absorb a 180-degree, panoramic view of the White Mountains nestled in clouds, resembling waves rolling out into the far corners of the earth. We exhaled deeply.
It was our first gathering. We intentionally created sacred space – no apologies, no explanations about who we are, no need to tiptoe around White fragility or navigate the daily micro aggressions of racism. In this space we could just be. In this space we discovered our collective strengths. We gathered to reflect. We gathered to witness each other’s beauty, pain, strengths, talents, and remined ourselves about our God given right to simply thrive. We shattered self-incriminating narratives regarding isolation and worthiness. Our fire ceremony helped us let go of “dirty pain”, attached to beliefs and experiences, which continued to hold us back from our highest potentials.
When it came time for me to write, I couldn’t find anything to let go of. A voice within scowled “there is always another layer, who do you think you are, better?” I felt constricted, frozen, followed by a wave of frustration and embarrassment. Debbie Doubt piped up and wanted to know, who was I to lead such a group? As I battled internally, somehow I managed to channel Iyanla’s voice, “gurl, fake it till you make it!” and proceeded to carry on, relieved no one else noticed.
The next day I returned home into the arms of my beloved, and a little girls’ voice emerges. It’s not new. I have dismissed this voice as being feminine, soft or cute. Lately, this voice feels more unsettling. That night in bed under the skylight in the waning moon, I recall the fire circle. I softly begin to question where this little girls’ voice comes from, and why is it bothering me now? I journey back to a time of memories filled with betrayal, anger, disappointment, and abandonment by family, friends, and people who loved me. I realize I am experiencing old unresolved dirty pain and it lives within me as a scared little girl, who still fears upsetting the apple cart. Perhaps being childlike is a disarming tactic to help discuss something difficult. I remember women who acted charming and looked cute to get what they wanted or needed in life. Shoot- whatever it is, it has to go. I then recall the fire circle and wish I had connected with this then. The waning moon suddenly returns from cloud cover as if to remind me of its purpose. I chuckle and lean over to my little girl to reassure her it’s time to release our dirty pain. I hold her hand and together we exhale. I feel my body chillaxe and then I am back at the fire under a Scorpio Blue Moon releasing what no longer serves me.