Years later, the spirit of that dream began to manifest in a way I could not have imagined. One chilly February evening about three years ago, I went with a friend to see Joules Graves in concert. Sitting behind us was a group of women who were thoroughly enjoying the concert, laughing and singing along with Joules. I found myself drawn to one particular woman who had warm eyes and long dark hair that fell down her back. During the intermission, I approached her, and we began to talk. My intuition told me to invite this woman — a relative stranger — to my thirtieth birthday party, which was going to be a ritual. To my surprise, she accepted the invitation. When she came to the party, several weeks later, she brought along a friend of hers who was equally warm and open. It turned out that both of these women were part of a weekly women’s circle that focused on spirituality and creativity. In a very organic way, I joined this circle just a few months later. I knew it was the absolute right place to be when, on my first night there, I held the talking stick (indicating that it was my turn to speak) for the first time and felt tears begin to flow. Now, three years later, I am often amazed and grateful when I think of the impact of that circle on my life. Week after week, we come together to share our stories, our joys, our fears, our grief, and our dreams. After the first year, I began to see how these women so often were mirrors of my own self, reflecting back to me the myriad ways that one can grow and change and triumph in one's life. Through watching them face their fears, grieve a loss, or manifest a dream, I began to feel freer to express my own fears, grieve my own losses, and manifest my own dreams. During the course of my years in this circle, I found the strength and courage to stand up for myself during an intense and protracted auto accident arbitration. I manifested a long-held dream to travel by myself to Nepal and trek for three weeks! I experienced profound healing through a healing circle, and assisted other women in their own healing circles. I learned to cry more openly, and to love better. And, I began to write songs. The songwriting came almost by surprise, though I’d secretly wanted to write songs for years. Circle was the incubator — the place where I brought my fledgling songs, and my fledgling confidence. My circle sisters mirrored back love, support, and excitement, and they urged me to keep writing. As my confidence grew, so too did the songs. I began playing guitar and a djembe drum. Eventually, I began to play outside of the incubator and share my songs with a wider community, but always, circle was there to come back to, a touchstone that centered me, held me, and inspired me. It was the women in that circle who created the spark of inspiration for my song "Circles of Women." They were the spark, but soon many other circles began to fan that spark into a strong and powerful flame. It seems that once I was in one circle, I began to see women’s circles everywhere, in places I may not have expected. I saw a women’s circle at the place I worked, a public health center that consisted of a family planning program and a program for pregnant and new moms. I saw a women’s circle in the small group of teenage girls that I mentored as part of my job; we also met weekly, and these girls also shed tears, shared dreams, and began to gain strength from each other’s stories. I saw a women’s circle in the community of doulas (labor support) that I worked with. The list goes on and on. I think back to the woman I was when I first entered the circle — younger, lonelier, and so thirsty for a community she could call her own. I came into circle with a desire to let go in a safe place, a desire to heal old wounds, and a desire to manifest dreams I’d been carrying like tiny embers. Through circle, I gained strength as a woman, I developed confidence in my higher self and my voice, and I found faith in my songs and my identity as a songwriter and performer. And those embers I was carrying? Well, some of them are now small fires, fueled by inspiration and creativity. Circle has taught me how to be a fire starter, and now I am learning how to be a fire tender. Anyone can start a circle. My circle was started by two women who felt a need and decided to do something about it. Little did they know that they were giving birth to an entity that now has a life of its own, and is always changing based on the needs of the current members and the needs, perhaps, of Spirit itself. You probably already have circles in your lives — it could be a few moms in the PTA, or some co-workers you meet with regularly after work, or women you communicate with online. Circles are sacred, and circles have the ability to sustain themselves, with a little love and attention from us. Individual women may come and go, but the circle remains. The circle remains. Kathryn Mostow is a Seattle-based singer/songwriter who left her career in public health to pursue music full time. Her songs have been described as moving, inspiring, heart-opening, and healing. Kathryn will give a Sound Healing Concert at East West Bookshop Saturday, October 7 from 6:30-8:30 p.m. ($8 advance/$10 door). Her recently released CD is available by e-mailing her at <butterflysound@hotmail.com>. Photo by Tina Zucchero. |
About eight or nine years ago I had a powerful dream. I dreamt that I was living in a police state, surrounded by people that I knew I could not trust, and with whom I did not feel safe. I knew I had to escape when my own boyfriend turned out to be working for the state, and he betrayed me to them. My journey of escape was frightening, but finally I made it to the border, which was marked by a barbed-wire fence. Somehow, I got over that fence, and there, on the other side, was a whole community of people, a circle, really, that had been waiting for me. They embraced me, they rejoiced in my freedom, and they welcomed me. It was an incredibly moving feeling, and one I didn’t forget — even after I woke up and returned to my fairly lonely waking life.