My Moon sisters, a group of fifteen women I have gathered with every month for the past thirty years, met last night to celebrate the winter solstice. We sat in a circle around the alter, a large red clay bowl filled with sand and three lit candles, one each for the Spirit Above, Spirit Below, and Spirit Within. We lost many things to the night: greed, hatred, poverty, self-doubt, cruelty. And then we birthed many good things to the light: self-love, peace, kindness, generosity, acceptance, and lit a candle representing these good things until the clay pot was ablaze with dozens of slender, brightly colored tapers.
But my sisters live in Illinois, while I live in the mountains of North Carolina. So, I attended via Zoom. However, the hybrid meeting almost didn’t happen. One of my Moon sisters felt overwhelmed by the technology. I had sent her a special microphone and asked her to bring her laptop to the ritual so that I could be a fly on the wall and listen in. But unbeknownst to me she had called the hostess to say she couldn’t do it. It was all too much what with her recuperating husband and her own sore back.
When I learned via group email that the hybrid ritual was cancelled I was dismayed and angry. I felt left out. Ostracized. I dreaded calling the hostess asking, what gives? But I did. I have learned in my decades of life that unless I speak out and take care of myself, no one else will.
We had a loving conversation. It was all a misunderstanding. Next, I called the friend to whom I had shipped the microphone. She was apologetic and loving, saying of course she would bring it to the ritual and sorry she had said yes, but then realized it was not her bailiwick. Then I called my friend who had the Zoom account subscription and asked her to send the invite to us out-of-towners, then called a third friend to ask if she could bring her laptop.
“Speaking up for oneself is often uncomfortable but stewing in resentment feels far worse.”
I could have accepted the decision not to hold a hybrid and then stewed about it, feeling resentful and hurt. Instead, I took care of myself by speaking up for my needs.
The microphone worked great. I heard all the women’s voices, and I was even more than just a fly on the wall. I added my voice to the circle, throwing in what I needed to lose to the night, and adding what I birthed to the light. It was a glorious celebration of the return of hope and gladness.
Speaking up for oneself is often uncomfortable but stewing in resentment feels far worse. Speaking up for myself builds bridges when done tactfully and lovingly and helps to maintain a healthy community. Yes, I’m the one who chose to move so far away from my sisters, but they mean so much to me. I don’t want to lose my relationship with them or my place in the circle. Our group can adapt to having a laptop in the sacred space. It isn’t optimal. I would much rather be there in person, but that is impossible.
I’m grateful we can adapt with the changes that take place in our lives, that we can speak up for our changing needs and accommodate one another rather than resign ourselves to the way things have always been done. Speaking up for ourselves is an important skill, one we can develop with tact and grace.
"Maturity means acting our age. We are being mature when we have a realistic view of our situation. We let those around us live their lives and we elect to accept responsibility for ourselves." -- Blueprint for Progress from Al-Anon Family Groups
