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Maidens on The Holyland!

I remember being a maiden of 12 and starting my first wimyn’s circle. For decades now, maidens have been gathering on the Holyland to find the tribe of their belonging. We feast, frolic, make priestess capes and goddess garlands. We play in the creek, swing on swings, howl at the moon and run wild. We light up the tipi, rub feet, enjoy a yoni steam and talk about being the powerful creatures who bleed and do not die. We laugh and learn and find a way to express fears and sorrows. We build trust and sometimes if we are lucky, like we were this year, we have a womb-full mother who welcomes the maidens to listen and talk to her womb baby. What a rich queendom! She-cubs becoming maidens and maidens growing their womanhood! In the woods, among the deer. With a circle of powerful Mothers. And each other. As it should be. As of old. As of now. As it should be.


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