As I looked around the living room, I was warmed by the bland familiarity; little had changed in the intervening two decades.
No longer has the background sounded of baby babble and scurrying toddlers accompanying the telling of our life stories.
In its place was an empty silence.
This was my homecoming.
This is where my emergence as a feminist began.
We were not your typical bra-burning feminists shouting expressions of the day.
We were seekers.
Seekers of balance, self-expression and fulfillment in our lives and in our most intimate relationships.
We did not want to tear down the family structure.
Our intent was to enrich our relationships by dismantling the expected sex determined roles and transforming the proscribed life scripts.
All eight of us were in monogamous heterosexual relationships.
Almost all were moms or hoping to be.
We ranged in age from our late twenties to our mid-fifties.
We had been courageous forming the first of its kind consciousness raising group in our "...
don't make waves...
" predominantly corporate white bread suburban middle to upper class community.
Where did following our inner calling take us? How many had taken great risks, created upheavals and leapt into the unknown to answer the proverbial question of "Who am I as a woman?" Who had stayed behind? What was that like for them? As I examined the faces and aging forms that now housed the voices that were instantaneously known, I saw in their eyes my own reflection.
In the moments that transpired, as I awaited my turn to share a capsulated version of the last 25 years of my life, I re-traversed my zigzagging lifeline.
I had reached for my dreams.
In the process, I had broken many of the self-limiting ancestral beliefs handed down from my mother's mother to her, and then to me.
--a "woman's place is in the home and nice women don't succeed!" But the cost to my most precious loved ones and me was way too high.
I had traded in my most precious assets, my deep inner feminine knowing and my expansive capacity for nurturance and healing, for my share of the game chips.
Only in midlife am I now re-discovering the whole of me.
After all these years no longer needing to prove I'm as good as the guys, but rather that I am uniquely a woman In the midst of this reverie, words pierced my very being.
"I need to know, " asked Miranda, age 44, in a hesitating voice, "Did I cop out on the women's movement by staying home to care for my daughter?" How could any one of us need to ask that question? Not now.
Not so many years later.
Yet there was that stillness, that pregnant pause before anyone responded.
Why was I so plugged in by her plea for affirmation? Hadn't I left the pile of dirty diapers and Sesame Street's Big Bird in search of the world's treasures only to find that the real treasures are the precious moments with my family? Miranda's question forced me to realize that at the core of my own circuitous struggle, was my resistance to nesting and nurturing, fed by the same shameful question.
Something had shifted.
We spoke more openly of the same concerns that have forever cut us at the quick.
The issue was no longer how to claim our independence, rather how to maintain it! Sadly, there was little of our youthful optimism.
In it's place, much angst about growing older.
Just about every woman was still grappling and groping with boundary issues, intimacy and fear of dependency.
Although not surprising, financial security had become even more elusive for many of us.
In fact, money and all that it represents had become a frightful nemesis.
No matter how worldly and successful we had become, our greatest challenge was still to be in relationship.
Comfortable self-affirming life roles were elusive for most.
The pendulum has swung its mighty arc towards women's liberation.
In its return swing, we are now uncovering the victims and we must heal the deep wounding.
To truly liberate us as full women we must give ourselves permission to choose from the smorgasbord that women's lives offer.
We must teach our younger women what we found out the hard way; that there is no simple straightforward formula for success as a real woman.
Only that which moves from deep within can guide us to what is true for us at any particular time in our life passage.
Could it be that we must come full circle to know ourselves as if for the very first time? We have come so far and have so far yet to go.
No longer has the background sounded of baby babble and scurrying toddlers accompanying the telling of our life stories.
In its place was an empty silence.
This was my homecoming.
This is where my emergence as a feminist began.
We were not your typical bra-burning feminists shouting expressions of the day.
We were seekers.
Seekers of balance, self-expression and fulfillment in our lives and in our most intimate relationships.
We did not want to tear down the family structure.
Our intent was to enrich our relationships by dismantling the expected sex determined roles and transforming the proscribed life scripts.
All eight of us were in monogamous heterosexual relationships.
Almost all were moms or hoping to be.
We ranged in age from our late twenties to our mid-fifties.
We had been courageous forming the first of its kind consciousness raising group in our "...
don't make waves...
" predominantly corporate white bread suburban middle to upper class community.
Where did following our inner calling take us? How many had taken great risks, created upheavals and leapt into the unknown to answer the proverbial question of "Who am I as a woman?" Who had stayed behind? What was that like for them? As I examined the faces and aging forms that now housed the voices that were instantaneously known, I saw in their eyes my own reflection.
In the moments that transpired, as I awaited my turn to share a capsulated version of the last 25 years of my life, I re-traversed my zigzagging lifeline.
I had reached for my dreams.
In the process, I had broken many of the self-limiting ancestral beliefs handed down from my mother's mother to her, and then to me.
--a "woman's place is in the home and nice women don't succeed!" But the cost to my most precious loved ones and me was way too high.
I had traded in my most precious assets, my deep inner feminine knowing and my expansive capacity for nurturance and healing, for my share of the game chips.
Only in midlife am I now re-discovering the whole of me.
After all these years no longer needing to prove I'm as good as the guys, but rather that I am uniquely a woman In the midst of this reverie, words pierced my very being.
"I need to know, " asked Miranda, age 44, in a hesitating voice, "Did I cop out on the women's movement by staying home to care for my daughter?" How could any one of us need to ask that question? Not now.
Not so many years later.
Yet there was that stillness, that pregnant pause before anyone responded.
Why was I so plugged in by her plea for affirmation? Hadn't I left the pile of dirty diapers and Sesame Street's Big Bird in search of the world's treasures only to find that the real treasures are the precious moments with my family? Miranda's question forced me to realize that at the core of my own circuitous struggle, was my resistance to nesting and nurturing, fed by the same shameful question.
Something had shifted.
We spoke more openly of the same concerns that have forever cut us at the quick.
The issue was no longer how to claim our independence, rather how to maintain it! Sadly, there was little of our youthful optimism.
In it's place, much angst about growing older.
Just about every woman was still grappling and groping with boundary issues, intimacy and fear of dependency.
Although not surprising, financial security had become even more elusive for many of us.
In fact, money and all that it represents had become a frightful nemesis.
No matter how worldly and successful we had become, our greatest challenge was still to be in relationship.
Comfortable self-affirming life roles were elusive for most.
The pendulum has swung its mighty arc towards women's liberation.
In its return swing, we are now uncovering the victims and we must heal the deep wounding.
To truly liberate us as full women we must give ourselves permission to choose from the smorgasbord that women's lives offer.
We must teach our younger women what we found out the hard way; that there is no simple straightforward formula for success as a real woman.
Only that which moves from deep within can guide us to what is true for us at any particular time in our life passage.
Could it be that we must come full circle to know ourselves as if for the very first time? We have come so far and have so far yet to go.
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