I have spent the last 20 years of my life studying ceremony, women’s health and sexuality, and the blood mysteries.
When I first started on this path I was young, naïve, full of spit and fire – and addicted to ceremony. I went to every ceremony I could. During this early time, I was confronted with the reality that countless Indigenous communities have taboos around women who are menstruating participating in group ceremony.
At first this reality stung me. I was raised with liberal feminist values. It felt punitive and derogatory. I – an outsider who was blessed enough to be invited into the ways of a different culture – had the audacity to be angry at this. After overcoming my initial outrage, I got quiet and curious as to why this might be.
And so, over the years, I have learned some of the many reasons for this. I won’t go into all of those here, as it is not my place to do so and this is not the format for such teachings.
But something I am continuously returned to is that, while bleeding, a woman is already in ceremony. She is, in fact, at her most spiritually powerful during that time.
Holding that power is a big responsibility.
Holding ourselves as holy and sacred during our menstrual time carries the possibility of promoting the peace that so many of us in this moment are longing for, shouting for, fighting for, risking life and livelihood for.
When we bleed, we are the embodiment of nonviolence in action.
We shed blood that does not come from a wound.
This blood is holy. Sacred.
When I make space for myself to meditate before and during my bleed, I am immediately transported to a place of divine peace, quiet, understanding and love. If I give myself the space, I can hang out there for quite some time. It is immensely blissful and beautiful.
What does it look like to truly make space for the sacred in our lives?
What does it take?
Empire demands endless productivity. Peace requires something different.
A willingness to slow down. A willingness to carve space and intention and time. A willingness to stop. To rest. To say no. To breathe. To sit, undisturbed.
To identify and name all of the ways that we commit violent acts against ourselves – beginning with the words in our minds aimed at our bodies. And to stop doing those things! To treat ourselves kindly – no – reverently. So that we can then extend kindness to others.
What does it cost to slow down? To stop?
Does it cost time? Money? Relationships? Awareness? Overcoming your addiction to stress hormones? Knowing yourself enough to know when your bleed will come? Recognizing the signs and making space for them?
What is the price of peace?
How much is peace worth?
How much is feeling safe in your home and in your community, knowing that no one is going to come barging through your door or pull you out of your car and abduct you – or worse, worth?
There are studies that have been done on the impact of meditation on crime rates – cities where large-scale group meditations were held and, during those times, the rates of violent crime went down.
If what I have come to know about women is true – that when we bleed we are at our most spiritually powerful – then our peacemaking abilities during this time are destined to be exponentially greater. What if part of the answer to the wave of authoritarian violence currently sweeping the world looks far different than we ever imagined?
Can I prove to you that it will work – that if as many women as possible took time out during their menses to pause and rest and breathe and meditate, to return their blood to the earth, that it would stop the wars? No. I wouldn’t dare to be so arrogant.
But what if it does?
There’s really only one way to find out.
Women are the only ones who shed blood that was not precipitated by a wound. Blood that gives way to life.
When we bleed, we are the walking embodiment of nonviolence in action.
Our blood is holy and sacred. And we have forgotten this.
I can think of no better time than now to remember.