I’m writing this after having two absolutely amazing experiences; the Crones Counsel Gathering and a sacred circle dance facilitators retreat. I’m not sure that I can actually find the words to describe what either of these events was like for me, but I’ll try.

Crones Counsel – Transformation: Spiraling Through Life, Without and Within. I was really excited on my way down.  I had a three-hour wait in Philadelphia so my friend Lita (who I met on a trip to Machu Pichu and the Galapagos a few years ago) met me and we had time for lunch and some good catching up.  Then I was back in the air and on my way into Atlanta.  The airport in Atlanta is huge and impressive and it didn’t take me long to make my way from the arrival gate to baggage claim where I met the woman from Sir Ellison Travel who was there to take me and one other “crone” to the gathering … a 45 minute drive away.  The other woman – whose name I soon found out was Marta – was attending her 10^th gathering I think.  Hhmm; so this is something women do over and over again.  Interesting.  She makes drums (indeed I later bought my drum from her) and one box of her drums had not arrived when she did.  Finally, with promises that they’d deliver the box of drums to our retreat centre as soon as they found it we headed out.  While waiting, and realizing that by the time we got to the retreat centre dinner hour would be over, I bought a sandwich and a bag of chips.  Marta hadn’t eaten either, so I shared my food with her and we chatted a little as we drove through the busy streets of Atlanta.

When we arrived the gathering had already begun and I‘d missed the opening “ceremonies“.  I didn’t want to miss another minute of it so I just pulled my suitcase along to the room they were meeting in and parked it over at the side and found an empty chair.  There were 158 women in that room; some crones and some crones-in-training.  Their ages, I later confirmed, ranged from the 30s to 95.  There was a woman at the front of the room and she was getting everybody up off their chairs and dancing joyously to the music; free form, whatever moves you, arms and legs moving, smiles abounding, a feel of great joy in the air.  This continued, with the addition of some wonderful drumming, for about an hour and the evening ended with the invitation to continue dancing and socializing if we’d like.  Tired from the day of travel I headed off to register and drag my suitcase along a dark (sometimes lit, sometimes not) pathway through the woods to the Brooks Compound where we were being housed.  I entered my room thinking that I wasn’t sure about this; yes, that had been wonderful fun but I was feeling a little lonely since I didn’t know anyone at the gathering – yet.  Ah – there was that inevitable cabinet you find in hotel rooms so I decided I’d watch a little TV and go to sleep.  When I opened the cabinet … no TV.  I actually called down to the front desk in hopes that it was just my room that was missing its TV but of course they told me that this was a retreat centre and there were no televisions.  Okay, an embarrassing moment, but I can adjust to no TV..  A little bit hungry, the only food I could find was in a vending machine and so I climbed into bed to read and eat a bag of Cheezies and some ju-jubes.  Before long I was drifting into sleep listening to the sounds of the crickets outside.  We did have a little outing one day, to the town of Roswell, where we toured a plantation and had a truly southern lunch.  These two signs in front of the restaurant they’d chosen (Greenwoods on Green) made it absolutely clear to me that I was with kindred spirits (although truly by then I had no doubt about that anyhow).  I spoke to the owner and asked him if he’d been a California hippie at the same time that I’d been there and sure enough he was.  Haven’t seen Mr. Natural in years; nice to become reacquainted!

I woke up early on Thursday and started my day by going to the Chataheechee Room where one of the women had constructed a round structure made of beautifully painted panels.  I did a standing yoga meditation while gazing into the image of a beautiful esoteric woman painted on one of the panels.  After that I was soon showered and back to the main meeting space for the morning’s events.  The day began with storytelling.  Women were invited to come to the front and tell stories of their lives, of their struggles, of their dreams and of their journeys.  I was – as we used to say – blown away.  One woman told about her daughter needing a double-transplant and how they’d been hopeful, and disappointed, over and over again; if this didn’t happen soon the doctors had little hope she’d live beyond the end of the year.  Most of the women had been coming to gatherings for years and years – this was the 17^th – and she was bringing us up to date on what was happening in her life so that for the rest of the time the conversations wouldn’t have to always be started with “how’s your daughter doing?”  More women, more stories.  I decided to join in and told the story of my first day of kindergarten, ending by saying that nobody should ever have to hide any part of who they are.  When I finished lots of the women raised their hands and waved.  What was that?  We’d already been told that the custom was to not clap at the end of each story.  Years ago they’d decided that sometimes we all need a standing ovation, so the deal was that if you wanted one you asked for it and the women would all rise and clap and cheer.  This waving of hands was a way of acknowledging that you’d been touched by a story.  By the time storytelling was over I knew that for sure I was with a remarkable group; women who were open and loving and joyous.

On Thursday afternoon I facilitated my first women and retirement workshop.  The number of women who attended was precisely the number of chairs around the board table.  Nervously – I was ‘working’ in an altogether new way for me – I began.  An hour and a half later, with lots of positive feedback, we finished and not only did I know by then that this new way of doing workshops was going to be good but I’d also been asked to submit a chapter for a book on what’s wrong with public education today.  I also attended a workshop that day; it was a remarkable one given by my new friend Melody who walked us all through how to “prepare the space when a loved one is dying.”  Hard as it is to honestly talk about death it was an amazing experience.

Next came Crone Circles.  The night before we’d all been giving little bundles of cloth and twine that we could use for gathering items to make a pouch to take away with us.  The yellow crones (my colour) had set a place to meet and soon I was sitting in a circle with 7 other women, one with a talking stick who began the circle for us.  Again, women shared their struggles and successes.  It was as if we’d known each other for years and years.  The circle would meet again each day of the gathering and the connections would deepen and grow.  I had to leave the gathering early (because, being a little ‘out of control’ of my calendar I’d inadvertently double-booked myself to be at the gathering and at a Red Cross youth conference (presenting a workshop at the first, giving a closing speech at the second) on the same weekend.  At my last circle I told the others that I was feeling a little strange about leaving early … I would be picked up at 4 a.m. and it felt like I’d just be slinking away into the night.  The leader of the circle had us all stand up with me in the center and the hug and the love and support and encouragement that we shared, along with a shell she’d had for some time (perfect image of spiraling without and within), let me take my leave feeling strong and calm and focused.

It was a little bit hard coming home after my days in Atlanta and it was a little bit wonderful.  The hard part was leaving the warmth and caring and connection of the Crones and coming home to still have too many things on my plate.  The wonderful part was that I looked at everything quite differently when I got home  Yes, there was still too much on my plate but after allowing myself one day to just rest I was up early the next day and by week’s end I’d cleared a lot of things and felt easy about getting the rest done too.  De-cluttering around the house always helps me de-clutter my spirit so just seeing an empty desktop made me feel better.  The reward for getting caught up and on top of things was that on Friday I’d be picking up an old friend from the airport in Toronto and driving an hour to the Canterbury Hills Retreat in Ancaster for a weekend of sacred circle dancing.

A brief aside for those of you who may not yet be familiar with this form of dance.  What’s sacred about it is the intent of the people dancing who come to join together and connect, be community, join together in grace and joy.  When you spend a day dancing together … maybe for 10 hours … and you feel the rhythm and music and sound of your feet on the floor … well, I don’t have words that can describe this other than to say you’re transported to the moment that you’re in and sharing.  For me my spirit and energy soars and a sense of peacefulness and joy fills every pore of my being.

The dance began on Friday at 7 o’clock, after we’d had dinner.  Although I’ve been in and out of sacred circle dancing for quite a few years I’d always kept a very low profile, just participating and assiduously avoiding taking any real responsibility for leading.  My friend – and mentor and sometimes even spirit guide – Barb (who has been leading dance for many years now) suggested that I might really enjoy coming to this dance facilitator’s retreat. What an honour and joy it was this evening to dance with these 50 people who could dance so well with both their feet and their energy in sync.  I heard the other night from our choir conductor (more about the choir coming in another posting) that your body releases oxytocin when you sing in a choir; it’s that amazing feeling you get when you’re in the middle of the music and it’s just so so so very beautiful.  I think the same thing happens with dancing.  The dance that transported me was Bilvavi (choreographed by Stefan Freedman – an Israeli kibbutzik) who gave us beautiful steps to go with beautiful music and words telling us to “build a sanctuary in your heart so that God can dwell there”.  If that’s not a plea to clear space in my heart, to get rid of the old scripts and stories, and to surround myself with loving energy that lets me soar then I don’t know what is.  By end of day on Saturday I’d danced for 14 hours.  As I was walking home I looked up and saw the most amazing moon in the sky over the cabin and even in the dark of night (thankfully I had my camera with me) I managed to catch its most beautiful image.  Standing right next to the cabin a deer was still and quiet (couldn’t catch it on film though).   Tired and filled with joy I fell into a deep and restful sleep.

This is a long way from a week ago when I visited a plantation in Roswell, Georgia with the Crones and we danced together.  That time as I danced I could almost see southern belles in big hoop skirts swirling through a room, yards and yards of taffeta flying back and forth as they moved around the dance floor.  I could almost imagine gentlefolk sitting on a porch swing drinking mint juleps.  Today the imagery is different, but the feeling is the same.

Just before climbing into my sleeping bag (in a cabin, nice and comfy) I stood outside and took some photographs of the moon as it appeared and disappeared as clouds blew across the sky.  I’m ready to tuck in now and I’m guessing I will have wonderful dreams tonight.

Bye for now.