I lay on my back, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers, the flickering light of candles, and the familiar faces of women I love. Cool brushes of paint flicked across my exposed belly—my first rite of passage ceremony, a baby blessing. I had never felt so held, so supported.
As one woman held my crown and another firmly grasped my feet, there was an acknowledgement of the crossing of archetypes, from maiden to mother.
"And let's face it... You had a good run, didn't you?" one mother said, with a cheeky wink. The playfulness in her expression simultaneously showing me the wisdom of her own motherhood, and the integrated pieces of her maidenhood that were invited along for the ride.
And she was right. At 35, on the cusp of motherhood, I looked back on an expansive, wild, and vivid season of maidenhood Wearing reckless abandon on my sleeve, my lust for freedom, expression, and romance took me to many dance floors, tattoo parlors, countries, and relationships. I took huge leaps of faith. Work, play, love, fail—repeat!
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