©2019 by Marika Preziuso. Uprooted Transplanted.

To my new family of women:

Written after the Authentic Body retreat

I didn't really know the meaning of 'sisterhood' until today.

All my life I cared about differences -of class, nationality, race, beliefs - so much that I never noticed

the shared cloth, the running thread.

But there is sharing, and there is sharing.

We shared as if our lives depended on it. Because it did.

We shared against any futile defenses,

any voices in our head

telling us  "don't say too much", " don't stare too long", "never cry too profusely", " don't you dare dance so passionately", " so now you are going to wail at the moon??". : )

And we stoke, and stoke that fire: the intangible trust for which there is no name,

the trust that speaks in tongues and lives beyond social codes.

And the unexpected truth seems to me

that looking and staying inside with patience and kindness,

makes us more available to others, so that we can travel across differences.

It trains us to tread more intentionally the edges

between "I hope" and "it is what it is".

It trains us to listen to new tones, textures, color patterns, rhythms, leaves strings, blankets folded.

All the support we need to launch on the journey back to ourselves.

And how more vital this brave journey of meeting our shadows is;

more than TV news, a damp fall day, a reluctant lover, a stubborn weight on the scale, the anxious figure on our birthday cakes, an empty bedroom, our tired legs.

This sharing,

this meeting our shadows,

this trusting our intuitions,

this training ourselves to feel

beyond right and wrong,

in the granular rituals, and in the spacious breath of nature.

is our lifeline, no matter what.