Women’s Well Series ( 1 of 3)
From the most ancient times, women have gathered in circles to transform themselves, their communities and nations, and the world. Today, when millions of women are finding their voices, when they are joining with other women to advocate for and demand what is needed for a just, peaceful, sustainable planet, when a revitalized women’s movement is being reborn, women’s circles are needed more than ever. For almost 20 years, the Women’s Well organization, a non-profit based in Concord, Massachusetts, offered thousands of women the opportunity to participate in women’s circles of all kinds. Here, in their own words in this three-part series, Anne Yeomans, a co-founder of the Women’s Well, and others who co-created the Women’s Well, share with you the power and wisdom of the circle.
We imagine that all of you reading this series may have felt some longing for a woman-honoring space, a place to rest, to feel seen and recognized, to listen, to learn. We also imagine that you, like many of us, may have had a long and challenging journey through a male-dominated world where women’s experience and wisdom have been neither valued nor acknowledged. We know that when this happens it can lead to feelings of disorientation, isolation, and doubt of one’s inherent worth. Continue reading “The Power of the Women’s Circle by Anne Yeomans and the Women’s Well”
In celebration of 
I have recently read a couple of articles in the Chronicle of Higher Education about the challenge of working in academia. One article lamented the paucity of tenure line positions and the great disappointment some ex-academics feel when they finally give up searching for that elusive job, which is actually non-existent. Another article reported on the sham interview experience, in which a national search is conducted, but the whole thing is a ruse since an internal candidate already has the position. Hopeful candidates put their families and lives on hold as they bide months of time while thinking, completely ignorant of the reality of situation, that they may be in line for a new position. They get letters of reference, prepare for interviews, buy suits, arrange childcare, manage time away from whatever they would otherwise be doing to make an interview, and then endure the emotional trial of waiting.
I wake up each morning in a simple bedroom lit by the rising sun: a wardrobe, a bookshelf, a small wooden table, and a chair, arranged on painted plank floors. Just outside the window behind my head are the tallest trees I have ever seen, their grey-brown trunks growing straight up into a sky I cannot quite make out from my warm bed, with its white cotton sheets, white coverlet, and cozy down comforter. The room’s soft yellow walls reflect and amplify the winter light. Part of me wants to luxuriate, to lie here for hours, feeling the sun on my face as I gaze up at the trees and allow my consciousness slowly to return from dreams.
Sometimes life hurts. Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we dive deeply into darkness. Sometimes we fall.
…and Ella can’t remember the last real meal she had. After supper with the refugees in the witch’s house, she and the witch put their heads together to begin making significant plans. She’s also been meeting all the refugees who now live on the witch’s farm. She knows first-hand why these people fled the capital and the other cities. “Oh, lordy, yes,” she says. “I used to know all the important people. My dear sisters and I went to all the big events, ate the finest cuisine—” suddenly remembering where she is, she looks down at the table “—oh, dear, but I don’t mean to criticize your cuisine.”
