HOW TO
START A MOONBEAMS GROUP
CIRCLE UP for Community
Support: a Book Clip from Chapter 7
My
vision was to lead a ritual and celebration when Lily started her monthly
cycle. But when she was about nine, I began to realize that I couldn’t
just spring it on her; she and her friends needed to be eased into this
celebration with a monthly group, a group of mothers and daughters who would
enjoy coming together and creating sacred space and being--simply being--together.
That idea tapped me on the shoulder, but I wasn’t convinced it was time
to begin, and in fact I wasn’t even sure just what it was we’d be doing, since
my intention was to just be! Of course I wanted to have a clear idea of
what it looked like before inviting people to a monthly circle. I put
that idea on my back burner, and the shoulder-tapping became downright
pressure. More than once, I wondered, “What if another mother had this idea and
invited me to her group?” but I knew I wanted to be the one to do the inviting
and plan the evening. It was welling up in me. Overriding my
uncertainties, I sent out an email to my list of yoga students and friends,
inviting mothers with ten-year-old daughters to join me in a circle to honor
our daughters. I had cast the net, and ten mothers immediately responded,
so I set a date and opened up to whatever the curriculum was going to be.
I trusted it would emerge, just like the curriculum for my yoga workshops
always had.
Lily was
slightly uncomfortable with this prospect--the prospect of her mom potentially
looking foolish in front of all her friends and their moms. I agreed: how
horrifying if Lily were to be embarrassed by my antics—though I am one of the
most composed, low-key, unembarrassing people I know. Nevertheless that
was Lily’s number one fear, and I had sympathy. So we made a deal: I
committed to run the mother-daughter evenings by her in advance, and she would
have the right to reject anything that seemed dumb, embarrassing, or not fun.
For our
first evening, we packed roses, a cloth for our altar, water and cups, cd’s (!),
tissues. Lily helped me set up the room. Her friends giddily showed up,
sat beside their moms, and looked at me expectantly. I felt their trust.
Taking in the gazes of the daughters, I felt alive with a heightened sense of
adventure, tuned in and open to whatever might happen.
First we
played what eventually we called the blindfold game, which wasn’t a game at
all—more than just an icebreaker, a chance for girls to tune into each other
with their hands, as an extension of their hearts, and then we talked about it.
Moms were supportive and offered comments that helped the girls open up
to share. I assured the moms that girls’ inevitable giggles were ok with me. We
placed meaningful items on our “sacred space,” or altar, as symbols for each of
us, individuals creating beauty when arranged together in a sacred space.
The
following two evenings, over the next two months, went equally and fulfillingly
well. On the fourth evening, I began to run the agenda past Lily.
“Mom?” she interrupted, “Can you not tell me what we’re going to
do? I want to be surprised, like the other girls.” Here was my
green light; I had won over my daughter.
She trusted that this wouldn’t
be a group about me embarrassing her. Each month we went a bit deeper,
from honoring our daughters externally with rose petals to allowing a special
word, describing a quality that they wished to embody, to be revealed to
them—from their own hearts. The girls learned that they deserved to be
honored—in fact they loved it, they soaked it up! And they learned how to
grow, how to create themselves, consciously, from the inside, out.
A couple
days before each circle, that circle would be revealed to me. The lack of
effort was amazing and humbling…I felt that I was “doing” practically nothing;
the level of reward for simply opening up to these ideas was disconcerting…but
I got used to it. There were plenty of wonderful ideas in the world for
rituals and exercises that the girls and mothers could do, that would allow
them to see each other, and honor what they saw.
Four
months after we began, we decided that everyone who was going to join had
joined. So we formally, and symbolically, closed the circle by taking a
ball of yarn, passing it around, wrapping our own wrist three times and handing
it to the person on our left until we were all tied together in a circle.
Then we each cut the strings that bound us together and declared that
symbolically, we were still connected, then passed the scissors to our left. We
tied each other’s loose ends, and were each left with a yarn bracelet to remind
us of our connection to ourselves and to our supportive group. It was
beautiful and deeply felt. I was doing what I most wanted to do. I
was manifesting my dream: our mother-daughter circle was real, and had a
life of its own.
MOONBEAMS
MoonBeams
groups create new and fertile terrain and provide an opportunity to check in on
a deep level. They give each girl a chance to practice being seen by her
mom and her friends at the same time, which challenges her to be true to
herself. They give us a chance to practice noticing if we feel judged, as
mothers, and to let that go. If you are motivated, rally your friends from high
school and college, the soccer moms, your facebook friends, and ask for a
commitment. Our original group has lasted six years and is still intact.
Ask your daughter whom she’d most want to invite, and whom she’d least like to
invite, and see if some of the girls she is not friends with have mothers who
are open to the possibility of creating one magical evening a month that will
transcend cliques and old rifts.
The most
difficult aspect of starting a group is agreeing on a time to meet. Our
first group met one Wednesday evening a month for three years, then one Tuesday
evening a month for a year. When the girls reached high school, we
switched to Friday nights, when there was less homework pressure and the girls
could stay up later. But Friday night brought new conflicts: dances and dates.
Although everyone was fully committed to our MoonBeams group, sometimes
there was a conflict that took precedence. An occasional play rehearsal,
a religious holiday, a school performance…but we stayed flexible. We were fully
committed to showing up and being, once a month, and we are still thrilled when
we can make it happen.
Reserving
a couple hours once a month, in a supportive group, to tap in on a deep level
is a great vaccination against depression, alienation, and acting out. It
is also a good vaccination against eating disorders and self-medication, against
losing ourselves in someone else, against tuning out who we truly are.
Hearing and honoring the inner voice: THAT for girls is what defines an
individual—not piercings or eyeliner or a boy’s attention. When we insist
on not hearing our inner voice, it sometimes needs to roar to get our
attention—a monthly check-in helps prevent that roar. Let’s allow that
voice to exist as it is meant to be, as the “still, small voice,” rather than
it having to morph into something much less pleasant, like anger or pain.
Although
it is easier to schedule on the same evening every month, it is an unusual and
exciting option to schedule monthly around the moon—I prefer the new moon,
because that’s when the farmers sow seeds, as opposed to the full moon, when we
are “out there,” and less internal; the full moon is when farmers harvest.
So make
a monthly appointment with your daughter and her friends to do…nothing.
Together. To get absolutely nothing done. Together. To let your
spirits play. Together. That’s what today’s girls are calling out
for—they want to be with their moms, unplugged.
When we
create a place where our daughters can be seen and celebrated for the voice of
their heart, that is the place from which they will conduct their lives.
When they are able to hear and follow their inner voice, they will live
in happiness, health, and harmony. When we take time out to honor them, they will learn to
surround themselves with others who honor them.