Scarves of silk shimmying off shelves, we are the women who love ourselves and each other through coming and going in cycles of wisdom, knowing each other’s dreams and sorrows, available for tomorrow’s group hugs, touching skin and holding hands, we each bring love to where we stand and beyond the circle we spiral out and know that we are more than one among the world.
We touched our souls once upon a time and felt the pulse of kindred souls sublime; a heartbeat there with falling tears and shaking frame that’s wracked with fears, or gentle morning light that filtered into eyes of peace and, calmly wise, serenity within a nod in passing. A cluttered space at end and beginning where friends were made and smiles were warming us into each other’s hearts.
The threads were woven and they are firm, cannot unravel or fade away for they have become the glistening dewy web, the lake of unified vision where all saw and were seen and held gently in the space between lives that were outside the moments of community. There is a fragrance that joins us there of chai and scones within the air, of rolling hills through every season where we’ve held heart and pondered reason, understanding flowing words and what’s behind them…love.
Streaming ink across the page allows free flow of form and age and circumstances broadly spun, where one has started, one more begun, another parted, altered into forks that divide and join again in the milky way and lunar cycles and forests deep we all know together among the world. We may not speak, our lives are drawn across the planet’s belly and brow, but all it takes is one small pause and I recall our group of women in a space of sacred connection where the energy was no longer several but one. We were joined by chance and a tapestry was begun to create a winsome pattern that was beyond space and time. What was the reason, what the rhyme, that brought us there in graceful dance? Scattered clothes that touched and met in different hands yet does resonance remain? I touch a scarf and see faces, forms…love.
The spaces are threads within my heart even though we are gone, departed, and separated. While the mist is thick for now, I feel through conscious pause the joy that rests within the moments we shared, within our breathing each other in and out while sleeping, within our routines that were intermingled with gifts of love and laughter and tears and struggle. Night after night, our breathing carried our essences into each other, and now there are cells made of your molecules within me always, womb to womb, heart to heart.
Initially, I wasn’t sure what my strange dream of scarves and bright colors and warm close energies meant, but then I realized as I began to write that I had been visited and comforted by the essence of the experiences I shared with you who were my roommates at KSA. I know that it is of no concern whether we speak again or drift apart to touch only in dreams. The moments of herstory are indelibly printed as patterns upon my memory, and stronger than the experience it is the essence of our time together that holds me in a loving embrace. You are a blessing when I pause to recall a moment here or there, of whispers and chocolate and tears and oil; of hair and walks and wisdom talks; of nature and classes and books and transmissions from honored teachers that I heard in gratitude with my sisters on the journey. The threads are silver, blue and green, we are connected though unseen.
Sisters, you are always in my heart as dreams in the night and memories in daylight and in the elements at play; the fire, the water, the air, and the earth brought you into my soul where you remain. Each of us worthy, a gift, a precious soul, and in this moment of reflection I see you and I thank you. Namaste.
Lynne, Erin, and Kate, I’m sorry that I don’t have any pictures of you in our “nest!”