I sat in a circle of women today. Up until now, when someone offered me a chance at sitting in a circle with women I have said a silent “Fuck” in my head and an audible, Um, I think I’m due to wash my hair. (I don’t wash my hair)
But, the universe conspired. I’ve had lovely guidance from two women this week. And a third sent me a text message yesterday inviting me to this circle today. I said Yes, and surprised myself. I knew I could trust the woman who asked. I knew she would have solid boundaries for who would be there. I knew I would be safe.
And I was. And one of the things I thought while in the circle was: I have time.
I was drinking in the quietude of the space. The peace, and the low thrum of insect life doing the work of spring. I was a little bit sad that this kind of peace and quiet is not often a part of my life right now. And straight on the heels of that thought was: there will come a time. One day, my life will be quiet, and contemplative, and peaceful. One day. I don’t need to rush to that day, or force it, or try and shoehorn it into my life.
My life right now is mostly loud, and busy, and sometimes chaotic. I often don’t get to finish thoughts, or sentences, or toiletting in peace. But something happened today, in the company of women, to make me regard this noisy time as a taonga. One that in its own right needs to be held and revered. If I can imagine cupping my hands around it, and holding its energy as we muddle through each day, I think when I’m old and my kids are old and the times are peaceful and slow, I will call it to mind and look back with nostalgia, I will hear the laughter and the fighting and the chatter with a smile.