Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
In response to Bolivian love
Jessica's incredible words below led me to consider something. She has dealt with a truly sad situation by creating for herself a disciplined frame of mind that is healthy and positive. With regard to love, I struggle to maintain a similar outlook, because I have always considered love to be a shared reality, created as a joint effort between two people. In Jessica's story the experience of love is highly subjective, in the eye of the beholder. She has defined what the experience is, and the way she will allow it to effect her. And her definition (from what I gather) is not necessarily shared with the Peruvian.
My friends, what kind of reality is love then? Do we try to understand the situation or do we try to create and define the situation? And if so, is this a process that occurs independent of the other person?
Thoughts?
My friends, what kind of reality is love then? Do we try to understand the situation or do we try to create and define the situation? And if so, is this a process that occurs independent of the other person?
Thoughts?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Solo por ser mujer...
Greetings from La Paz, Bolivia, most of you I don’t know in person, but I´m so enjoying your entries - everything from Rumi, a dear friend of mine, to bizarre drunken slaps in the face. Strange world. Strong girls.
I have a story to share.
Somewhere in my Bolivian adventures I fell in love with a Peruvian anthropologist. It’s my first time at being in love, and it couldn’t have been more beautiful nor more painful. I hate to say it chicas, but I now totally get what those damn songs are all about.
I live in the capital here, but travel regularly to a small town where I do my research. Part of the problem with the Peruvian is that I had to wait for him for over a month to get his act together on the other side of the country. But while waiting I was traveling to the little pueblo, and befriended a young Bolivian woman, who is a campesina and Aymara, but speaks Quechua and Spanish. Her name is Roxanna. She has a son who is about 7 and a younger set of twin daughters. There is some zeal about her that always gives me hope for Bolivia. But as long as I’ve known her, there's been no husband, father or man around. One day during the waiting, I broke down and shared with her my lovesick heart and most of all how the Peruvian kept vowing to show up, but had yet to make good on his promises of “tomorrow”. It turns out she was in a similar situation -but I’d argue worse.
When Roxanna was pregnant with her son seven years ago, the father cheated on her with another woman, and I don’t know if it was a break up so much as that he left her, and she never told him about the baby. The week before I shared my story, the father had returned to said Pueblo, met up with Roxanna, saw the son, knew immediately it was his, re-pledged his love for Roxanna, told his son that he was not fatherless and would have his name (latin America has the whole two name system and thus the child had only his mother’s last name). He told Roxanna that he loved her; he had ended things with his “mujer” and was coming back Huari (their town) to be her husband and their son’s father.
Well, when I returned to Huari two weeks later, I hadn’t seen my Peruvian and Roxanna hadn’t seen her “husband”. Because we love them, we hope for the best and make excuses for their failure to come through on promises.
But for a moment Roxanna’s hurting compounded my own and the pain was fierce. We sat in the Plaza and listened to a heartbreak song by Ricardo Arjona (“El Problema”) that has tearjerkers such as, “the problem isn’t that you lie, its that I believe you/the problem wasn’t getting you, its forgetting you/the problem isn’t your absence its that I miss you/how do I run away from you, when we’re already so far apart.” Yeah, pathetic, I know. But tears welled in both our eyes, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if we were crying for love or if it had something to do with what it means to be a woman – a woman in love perhaps – but a woman nonetheless. We agreed that we would trust them until we just couldn’t anymore and that if things ended, at least we had been honest and we had been the ones to love with open hearts.
Eventually my Peruvian showed up, though her husband still hasn’t. I won’t say that “sometimes love just isn’t enough” because that would make me hate love. And I won’t be angry with the Peruvian or Roxanna’s husband because though they may deserve it, it won’t make anything better.
Instead, I’m moving outside the tangle of fear thinking as our beloved Rumi suggests. Here’s hoping each of you does too:
“There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
Of walking in the noisy street,
And being the noise
Drink all your passion.
And be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
To see with the other eye.
Open your hands,
If you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
The shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wonders.
Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “she left me.” “he left me.”
Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.
Think who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison
When the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
Widening rings of being.”
-----rumi
I have a story to share.
Somewhere in my Bolivian adventures I fell in love with a Peruvian anthropologist. It’s my first time at being in love, and it couldn’t have been more beautiful nor more painful. I hate to say it chicas, but I now totally get what those damn songs are all about.
I live in the capital here, but travel regularly to a small town where I do my research. Part of the problem with the Peruvian is that I had to wait for him for over a month to get his act together on the other side of the country. But while waiting I was traveling to the little pueblo, and befriended a young Bolivian woman, who is a campesina and Aymara, but speaks Quechua and Spanish. Her name is Roxanna. She has a son who is about 7 and a younger set of twin daughters. There is some zeal about her that always gives me hope for Bolivia. But as long as I’ve known her, there's been no husband, father or man around. One day during the waiting, I broke down and shared with her my lovesick heart and most of all how the Peruvian kept vowing to show up, but had yet to make good on his promises of “tomorrow”. It turns out she was in a similar situation -but I’d argue worse.
When Roxanna was pregnant with her son seven years ago, the father cheated on her with another woman, and I don’t know if it was a break up so much as that he left her, and she never told him about the baby. The week before I shared my story, the father had returned to said Pueblo, met up with Roxanna, saw the son, knew immediately it was his, re-pledged his love for Roxanna, told his son that he was not fatherless and would have his name (latin America has the whole two name system and thus the child had only his mother’s last name). He told Roxanna that he loved her; he had ended things with his “mujer” and was coming back Huari (their town) to be her husband and their son’s father.
Well, when I returned to Huari two weeks later, I hadn’t seen my Peruvian and Roxanna hadn’t seen her “husband”. Because we love them, we hope for the best and make excuses for their failure to come through on promises.
But for a moment Roxanna’s hurting compounded my own and the pain was fierce. We sat in the Plaza and listened to a heartbreak song by Ricardo Arjona (“El Problema”) that has tearjerkers such as, “the problem isn’t that you lie, its that I believe you/the problem wasn’t getting you, its forgetting you/the problem isn’t your absence its that I miss you/how do I run away from you, when we’re already so far apart.” Yeah, pathetic, I know. But tears welled in both our eyes, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if we were crying for love or if it had something to do with what it means to be a woman – a woman in love perhaps – but a woman nonetheless. We agreed that we would trust them until we just couldn’t anymore and that if things ended, at least we had been honest and we had been the ones to love with open hearts.
Eventually my Peruvian showed up, though her husband still hasn’t. I won’t say that “sometimes love just isn’t enough” because that would make me hate love. And I won’t be angry with the Peruvian or Roxanna’s husband because though they may deserve it, it won’t make anything better.
Instead, I’m moving outside the tangle of fear thinking as our beloved Rumi suggests. Here’s hoping each of you does too:
“There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
Of walking in the noisy street,
And being the noise
Drink all your passion.
And be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
To see with the other eye.
Open your hands,
If you want to be held.
Sit down in this circle.
Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
The shepherd’s love filling you.
At night, your beloved wonders.
Don’t accept consolations.
Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover’s mouth in yours.
You moan, “she left me.” “he left me.”
Twenty more will come.
Be empty of worrying.
Think who created thought!
Why do you stay in prison
When the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
Widening rings of being.”
-----rumi
Friday, March 21, 2008
Fixitive/Duct Tape/Ocean
So I am pouring over really thick academic papers and come across a brief paragraph on the differences between men and women from the perspective of behavioral neurogenetics and I found something that made my toes curl under (the only other time I do this unconsciously is during orgasm...to give you an idea of how powerful my reaction was). Apparently, measurements of women's psychological activity varies significantly throughout menstruation creating a cyclical pattern which appears to make women less susceptible to mental illness as triggered by sudden changes in neurological activity because our brains are more accustomed to fluctuations. alksdjfalksjdflakjsdfasdf! You fuckin' bet I am tickled to be an ocean, fluctuations and chaos and "moodiness" and depth and HEALTH! Yes.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Thoughts from a restless mind
First, I´d like to mention that when I arrived home I burst into a fit of laughter revisiting the visual of Andra draining coffee from a camelback....
So I am a generally positive, happy person and have always struggled to relate when I hear testimonies about people who were once lost or numb to the world and suddenly came alive when the found something new, or the right fit. An artist finally discovers her passion for ceramics, a depressed woman finds Jesus, a high school outcast finds acceptance in her new group of computer technology club friends. But tonight I realized that our community is doing just that to me. Something is awakening inside me I didn´t know was asleep. I am coming out of a minor depression I had no idea I was in. You ladies have an profoundly invigorating effect on me that I have never before understood. Right now:
I feel strong.
And its a kind of inner strength; I associate it with longevity more than temporary energy.
I feel peaceful.
There is a Biblical expression that says "Peace like a river", which I relate to on many levels. Despite turbulence and danger, there is also constant and consistency.
I cannot wait for tomorrow.
I cannot wait to see your faces as the week continues.
Seek grace, seek to be evoked, and seek each other.
So I am a generally positive, happy person and have always struggled to relate when I hear testimonies about people who were once lost or numb to the world and suddenly came alive when the found something new, or the right fit. An artist finally discovers her passion for ceramics, a depressed woman finds Jesus, a high school outcast finds acceptance in her new group of computer technology club friends. But tonight I realized that our community is doing just that to me. Something is awakening inside me I didn´t know was asleep. I am coming out of a minor depression I had no idea I was in. You ladies have an profoundly invigorating effect on me that I have never before understood. Right now:
I feel strong.
And its a kind of inner strength; I associate it with longevity more than temporary energy.
I feel peaceful.
There is a Biblical expression that says "Peace like a river", which I relate to on many levels. Despite turbulence and danger, there is also constant and consistency.
I cannot wait for tomorrow.
I cannot wait to see your faces as the week continues.
Seek grace, seek to be evoked, and seek each other.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
My dear beautiful friends,
A breath of fresh air for you for the Monday toil, from Rumi, the Sufi mystic.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture, still,
treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
____________________
And another quicky... In response to Annie's amazing piece on intimacy.
Always check your inner state
with the queen of your heart.
Copper doesn't know it's copper
until it's changing into gold.
Your loving doesn't know majesty
until it knows its helplessness.
A breath of fresh air for you for the Monday toil, from Rumi, the Sufi mystic.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture, still,
treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
____________________
And another quicky... In response to Annie's amazing piece on intimacy.
Always check your inner state
with the queen of your heart.
Copper doesn't know it's copper
until it's changing into gold.
Your loving doesn't know majesty
until it knows its helplessness.
Intimacy
Comrades:
I was at home this weekend and between 1 excellent meal, 2 intense games of scrabble, and 3 calculated hours of hot tub time, I was able to extract invaluable Advise and Reflections from my mother about.....well, everything... from whether multi-lingualism in Switzerland has positive long-term implications, to our strong critiques of Victoria's Secret's unreasonably priced 3 for $30 panties, to the serious possibility that I might actually be A-sexual. At some point in these dynamic conversations my mother suggested something I found particularly interesting and wanted to share. We were talking about intimacy (generated of course by an off-handed complaint that I never experience it) and my mother posited that there are three levels of intimacy we need to fulfill: intellectual intimacy, emotional intimacy, and physical intimacy. First we must consider what intimacy is. My mother defined it as total unashamed, nakedness in front of another person (that is, of course, symbolic in the majority of cases) and when you consider it, that seems pretty all-inclusive. You could mention closeness, vulnerability, support and other things relating to intimacy, but I think "total nakedness" encompasses all of that. Secondly, we must consider the participants in intimacy. Are they dyadic? Are they heterosexual? I personally would not like to limit it to either of these conditions, but I would suggest intimacy is rare, and requires time and effort to develop effectively. I hypothesize that it can occur in a group, but it is more difficult because there are even more variables that could threaten the safe pursuit of vulnerability or a necessary contract of closeness.
With that said, let's revisit types of intimacy. Intellectual intimacy. Sooooo important, and arguably the reason many students become inspired by an influential professor, or why people watch the discovery channel. Intellectual curiosity is merely the pursuit of intellectual intimacy. What good is intellectual stimulation if there exists no forum in which it may be nurtured, challenged, and sharpened? In the discourse of women I will also suggest that this is a level of intimacy which is chronically malnourished and begs the colossal question: WHY. (I will skip this discussion for now simply because it begs more than one blog entry to answer but if you have reflections, do share!). I think, however, that any relationship needs a certain degree of intellectual intimacy to make it sustainable and lasting.
Emotional intimacy. This, ladies and ladies, is our specialty. Somehow, we develop a knack for this at a relatively young age and we should take great pride in it, while also bearing in mind the amount of power that it implies......thoughts?
Physical Intimacy. I'm not just referring to sex. Last fall I went to a spa in Las Vegas with a good friend of mine and she and I did it all....and naked. Showers, hot tubs, sitting on the couches drinking water, massages, make up, etc. It was an experience that brought my friend and I, with whom I was already emotionally intimate, to a new level of physical intimacy (and I'll note that it was a very liberating experience...nakedness is entirely underrated!). Or.....have you ever dated a guy who thought it was really sexy to work out together (and you're thinking, I look like total shit, smell, and running simulates my bowel movement...no thank you.) Or have you ever run a long race with someone? Well, I think that for many people physical activity helps work toward a level of physical intimacy with someone, and it greatly adds to balances the other forms of intimacy.
These levels coordinate and interact in different ways and it is interesting to reflect on which types of intimacy you achieve in different relationships. As I reflect I cannot help but aply this to our communities with women: What types of intimacy should we pursue, if any at all? And how? And in general, is there an appropriate developmental progression of the three in a relationship, or is this entirely empirical?
Observation: Generally (very generally) speaking, I think men tend to pursue physical intimacy diligently while women pursue emotional intimacy respectively. In our desperation to achieve both, we musn't ever pressure one another into reaching those levels of nakedness before we are ready. Premature intimacy can be irreversibly damaging and the costs of recovery are sometimes incalculable (and think about that in the context of the intellectual, emotional, and physical). Additionally, if a given relationship deescalates I believe it is morally wrong to in any way abuse the experience of intimacy that we once had with someone. Intimacy is a dangerous thing: it is extremely powerful, very important, should be used rarely and never abused.
Oh the advise of mothers.....If we could put a monetary value on the hours of counseling some of them offer, women would not longer statistically earn 30% less than men.
I was at home this weekend and between 1 excellent meal, 2 intense games of scrabble, and 3 calculated hours of hot tub time, I was able to extract invaluable Advise and Reflections from my mother about.....well, everything... from whether multi-lingualism in Switzerland has positive long-term implications, to our strong critiques of Victoria's Secret's unreasonably priced 3 for $30 panties, to the serious possibility that I might actually be A-sexual. At some point in these dynamic conversations my mother suggested something I found particularly interesting and wanted to share. We were talking about intimacy (generated of course by an off-handed complaint that I never experience it) and my mother posited that there are three levels of intimacy we need to fulfill: intellectual intimacy, emotional intimacy, and physical intimacy. First we must consider what intimacy is. My mother defined it as total unashamed, nakedness in front of another person (that is, of course, symbolic in the majority of cases) and when you consider it, that seems pretty all-inclusive. You could mention closeness, vulnerability, support and other things relating to intimacy, but I think "total nakedness" encompasses all of that. Secondly, we must consider the participants in intimacy. Are they dyadic? Are they heterosexual? I personally would not like to limit it to either of these conditions, but I would suggest intimacy is rare, and requires time and effort to develop effectively. I hypothesize that it can occur in a group, but it is more difficult because there are even more variables that could threaten the safe pursuit of vulnerability or a necessary contract of closeness.
With that said, let's revisit types of intimacy. Intellectual intimacy. Sooooo important, and arguably the reason many students become inspired by an influential professor, or why people watch the discovery channel. Intellectual curiosity is merely the pursuit of intellectual intimacy. What good is intellectual stimulation if there exists no forum in which it may be nurtured, challenged, and sharpened? In the discourse of women I will also suggest that this is a level of intimacy which is chronically malnourished and begs the colossal question: WHY. (I will skip this discussion for now simply because it begs more than one blog entry to answer but if you have reflections, do share!). I think, however, that any relationship needs a certain degree of intellectual intimacy to make it sustainable and lasting.
Emotional intimacy. This, ladies and ladies, is our specialty. Somehow, we develop a knack for this at a relatively young age and we should take great pride in it, while also bearing in mind the amount of power that it implies......thoughts?
Physical Intimacy. I'm not just referring to sex. Last fall I went to a spa in Las Vegas with a good friend of mine and she and I did it all....and naked. Showers, hot tubs, sitting on the couches drinking water, massages, make up, etc. It was an experience that brought my friend and I, with whom I was already emotionally intimate, to a new level of physical intimacy (and I'll note that it was a very liberating experience...nakedness is entirely underrated!). Or.....have you ever dated a guy who thought it was really sexy to work out together (and you're thinking, I look like total shit, smell, and running simulates my bowel movement...no thank you.) Or have you ever run a long race with someone? Well, I think that for many people physical activity helps work toward a level of physical intimacy with someone, and it greatly adds to balances the other forms of intimacy.
These levels coordinate and interact in different ways and it is interesting to reflect on which types of intimacy you achieve in different relationships. As I reflect I cannot help but aply this to our communities with women: What types of intimacy should we pursue, if any at all? And how? And in general, is there an appropriate developmental progression of the three in a relationship, or is this entirely empirical?
Observation: Generally (very generally) speaking, I think men tend to pursue physical intimacy diligently while women pursue emotional intimacy respectively. In our desperation to achieve both, we musn't ever pressure one another into reaching those levels of nakedness before we are ready. Premature intimacy can be irreversibly damaging and the costs of recovery are sometimes incalculable (and think about that in the context of the intellectual, emotional, and physical). Additionally, if a given relationship deescalates I believe it is morally wrong to in any way abuse the experience of intimacy that we once had with someone. Intimacy is a dangerous thing: it is extremely powerful, very important, should be used rarely and never abused.
Oh the advise of mothers.....If we could put a monetary value on the hours of counseling some of them offer, women would not longer statistically earn 30% less than men.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Inspiration and a Slap to the Face $3.00 from 10pm-close
Here's an inspirational tale on the bonding of women. I briefly run into a girl in a bathroom, she proceeds to call me one of the most offensive, degrading names (and possibly the worst thing a person could call me), conservative. No, seriously though. After using her four letter word of choice, she decided "Hey, this girl looks trashy. I should most certainly tell her." (So I'm just guessing on this other girl's inner dialogue as I am not omniscient, as surprising as that is.) Yes, she (within a five minute span) decided I was:
a) trailer trash
b) a (something I'm too shy to type) and
c) too dumb to understand the FOUR letter word, so yes, she politely spelled it out for me. "C - U -" But I'm sure you get where I'm going here.
The girl drunkenly hobbled back up the stairs and her friend stayed behind to apologize. I was grateful. This girl was obviously tanked beyond what would be considered normally acceptable or even remotely entertaining. I didn't find it necessary for her to apologize for her friend, I just told her she should probably push her friend's oh-so-intoxicated ass out of the bar. Problem solved. Done and done.
I walk upstairs and who grabs my arm? Oh, it's none other than my incredibly helpful spelling instructor. She must have more tips, I thought. Phonetics can be a real bitch. In all reality she proceeds to shriek this loud enough to draw a crowd, "OMG, I'm soooo fucking sorry for calling you a -. Oh oh yeah and I'm like sooooo sorry for saying that you looked like a piece of trash." Now this was her obvious attempt at a misplaced parody of me. (I don't think I have ever in my life verbalized OMG together, unless I was spelling Bomgaars - store in ND, by the by). In my state what seemed like a good idea? To look at her quizzically and say "Oh I'm soooooo sorry that you're a fucking bitch." And that's when it happened. I got slapped. Some idiots expressed their hope of a chick fight, but after she slapped me - she ran away. I continued to call her all sorts of things and then I sat down and finished my beers with my friends.
So what is the point here? Why would any, presumably regular woman choose to slap me? Would she have slapped me in the bathroom without the crowd to see her? What made her think, "this girl's face is just begging to be slapped"? I know I'm not completely innocent here and alcohol was a factor - for her at least. What did she want to win?
It is a competition between women that is clear. But what the hell are we competing for? I'm starting to get the feeling that it's something I don't really want anyway.
a) trailer trash
b) a (something I'm too shy to type) and
c) too dumb to understand the FOUR letter word, so yes, she politely spelled it out for me. "C - U -" But I'm sure you get where I'm going here.
The girl drunkenly hobbled back up the stairs and her friend stayed behind to apologize. I was grateful. This girl was obviously tanked beyond what would be considered normally acceptable or even remotely entertaining. I didn't find it necessary for her to apologize for her friend, I just told her she should probably push her friend's oh-so-intoxicated ass out of the bar. Problem solved. Done and done.
I walk upstairs and who grabs my arm? Oh, it's none other than my incredibly helpful spelling instructor. She must have more tips, I thought. Phonetics can be a real bitch. In all reality she proceeds to shriek this loud enough to draw a crowd, "OMG, I'm soooo fucking sorry for calling you a -. Oh oh yeah and I'm like sooooo sorry for saying that you looked like a piece of trash." Now this was her obvious attempt at a misplaced parody of me. (I don't think I have ever in my life verbalized OMG together, unless I was spelling Bomgaars - store in ND, by the by). In my state what seemed like a good idea? To look at her quizzically and say "Oh I'm soooooo sorry that you're a fucking bitch." And that's when it happened. I got slapped. Some idiots expressed their hope of a chick fight, but after she slapped me - she ran away. I continued to call her all sorts of things and then I sat down and finished my beers with my friends.
So what is the point here? Why would any, presumably regular woman choose to slap me? Would she have slapped me in the bathroom without the crowd to see her? What made her think, "this girl's face is just begging to be slapped"? I know I'm not completely innocent here and alcohol was a factor - for her at least. What did she want to win?
It is a competition between women that is clear. But what the hell are we competing for? I'm starting to get the feeling that it's something I don't really want anyway.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Comrades:
Last night was epic. Despite a mere five hours of sleep following our meeting I have been extremely energized today. If I was good at whistling I would whistle everywhere I go (which would be a site as I huff and puff up University on my bike). I am so unbelievably excited and invigorated by our challenge and simply cannot wait to watch as the vision unfolds. Please, I encourage everyone to submit their reflections throughout the week. You are all authors in this forum and it is dying to hear your thoughts....
Enjoy the weather today and find a few moments for something pleasurable.....
Last night was epic. Despite a mere five hours of sleep following our meeting I have been extremely energized today. If I was good at whistling I would whistle everywhere I go (which would be a site as I huff and puff up University on my bike). I am so unbelievably excited and invigorated by our challenge and simply cannot wait to watch as the vision unfolds. Please, I encourage everyone to submit their reflections throughout the week. You are all authors in this forum and it is dying to hear your thoughts....
Enjoy the weather today and find a few moments for something pleasurable.....
Monday, March 10, 2008
Untapped Power
As a woman, I am continuously amazed by women's ability to connect. There is something unique to women that links us together at the most profound level, bridging cultural, age, and socioeconomic barriers. At every woman's most secret depths is the same knowledge, understanding, and beauty. I absolutely believe that the key to women's power is in this connection. We compliment each other. The power to make change- real, substantial, and genuine change lies not in one woman, but in women connected to each other. This is why I belive a woman's group that brings us together, exposes our depths, and creates power in our connection is vital.
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