Women’s Gatherings


This compilation of writings and images have emerged from a number of small gatherings of women held in the West Country and London over the last ten years. Circles of deep listening to the Earth and each other.  The inspiration for these groups came from the words in the Hopi Prophecy where we are told that ‘the time of the lone wolf is over’ and ‘to gather yourselves’, but primarily from the teachings and writings of Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee on the need for the Return of the Feminine in our lives and world.

Hear is an early collection of our words and images: ‘Seeds of light – from earth song’


 Remember That All Things Begin And End In A Circle.  Black Elk

   I Come Because She Calls

Power of the feminineI come to the Women’s Gatherings because She calls.  Other reasons there may be, but this is the essence of why I come.  Each gathering I have been part of, yes, I have enjoyed it and come away enriched, and yes, there has been much light, love and laughter, but beyond all that each time I have been drawn a little bit deeper into the mystery of the unknown She.  I leave a different person from the person that arrived. Every gathering I have attended has been different from any other; a different time, a different venue and different women present in the group.  In addition to this, each one of us has her own experience of each group, as witnessed by our recounting of them afterwards.  These notes are thus one woman’s experience. Most of us would agree, I think, that something Real happens in these gatherings.  We go beyond our individual and psychological selves, and into Woman. We are Woman being with Woman, or maybe a single Woman expressing different facets of Womanhood.  Beyond our personal healing and unfolding, and our moving into spheres of life we previously hadn’t dared to live (for this is also part of it and things happen on many levels in these groups), there is a deeper purpose, a witnessing of something lying in potential, perhaps for millennia, coming into being.  It feels such a privilege to take part in this work, to be with Life reshaping Herself,and coming into being in a different way.There is all the excitement that accompanies new birth.

We talk.
We write.
We draw.
Yet again and again and again there is this pain.
A pain so deep deep inside that cries –
There is much much more.
There is much much more.
And the roar of its grip
Sits like a tight knot,
An unspoken gem
To raise us out of this hell
Of falling asunder.

Thunder roars in the everyday.
Saturates the veins of becoming –
Of nothing known before.
And the grip.
The agony.
The tight holding of ages past sinks the feet
To moving far away from the day
Of knowing who She is.

Cry the tears of becoming.
Cry the heart ache of unknowing.
Cry and cry and cry
Until the hold of old
Of too many times told and sold
Fades away to dust.

Breath the blue of new.
The red of dawn.
The cry of new-born.
Travel beyond the imagination.
Beyond the talking.
The written
The drawn.



A Whisper of Remembering
Softly the night falls into a whisper of remembering.
She calls from our dreams;
And what seems to be hidden to the day becomes
The dawning of it rising
The full noon riding high
In the sky of our being.
And what was a dream
Becomes felt,

Something Unknown Known

So subtle so fine,
Something unknown known.
Comes with an invitation to Enter
A breath of remembrance, caressing the cheek,
Flowing out over the face of the water,
Over the deeps and into the valleys of the unseen.
So many beings crowding round within the stillness,
Silent amongst those remembering God
A shaft of sunlight; which the plants transform into the very substance
That fleshes out existence,
Whilst we human beings become the vehicle by which
A finer light weaves into creation,
Threading through the pathways,
The sunken lanes and forgotten reaches of those unremembered places
Where all creatures seen and unseen gather,
Longing, waiting, singing.

The way in,
A door as ephemeral as the flight of the little bird,
That tiny wren that popped in this morning as an emissary,
Our guide to the byways,
The green paths and secret places where only free nature,
Free spirit wings.
This path less travelled,
These byways,
Highways of a visceral knowing.
The ancient body wisdom that runs through each cell in creation,
Like a fine scent,
A subtle perfume infusing the mist,
That obscures a vision now clearing,
As new life stirs,
Sighing awake.

This is a prayer for all the women in the world who have been taught to mistrust their hearts.

This is a prayer for all women who have lost the power to dream of stars and caves and warriors and white horses.

This is a prayer for women who have lost the ability to embrace life without fear.

This is a prayer for the women who have forgotten.