I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not very witchy. I will do yoga, meditate and even ohm for an hour. I believe in the power of our intentions, in gratitude, in energy that moves within us and around us. But I tend to reject things too ‘woo-woo’, and have silently rolled my eyes at the new culture of women calling themselves witches. I’ve never believed in magic, spells and abhor spiritual bypassing. But then again, I’ve never been invited into a coven. No group of women has ever asked me to dance naked under the full moon with them.
Maybe this is because for much of my twenties, I leaned away from sisterhood. I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, but there was always an undercurrent of competition, feeling like I wasn’t as good as other women - physically, mentally, emotionally. There were women who seemed more in touch with their femininity, and I couldn’t relate. I felt most comfortable and honored under the gaze of an appreciative male, even if they were only friends.
The older I got, the more I felt the comfort and support of my closest girl friends. There was an ease, openness and vulnerability that came from our time together. So when we began to develop our Lit tools for couples intimacy, I began to wonder what would happen if I went deeper with my friends? Were there untapped places of healing and togetherness that we could explore together, that might be a safer space to do so than in a romantic relationship? Could I maybe, just maybe create a coven in which I didn’t need a jar of frog eyes to cast spells with?
When I called on my group of friends and acquaintances to experiment in this with me, I was almost surprised they said yes. I sent out an invitation that sounded unlike anything remotely socially acceptable. “A sensual exploration of touch.” “Wear as little as you’re comfortable with so we can touch each other.” And yet, the women came without hesitation.
We gathered in a circle and began in ceremony, with palo santo burning and candles twinkling around us. Most of us giggled nervously as we settled in. We set intentions as a group. What we wanted from this year, what we wanted to feel in our bodies, what we wanted to heal. We talked about our relationships, what we craved more of, where we weren’t fulfilled. We asked each other about taboo topics we’d been too afraid to talk about with anyone else and some of us physically mimed out our fantasies. We laughed until we ached in our core.
And with our hearts so open to each other, we got to the crux of the evening - taking turns worshiping each other with sensation play tools, our hands and our words. As each woman took her place in the center, we asked “How do you want to feel in your body right now?”
“I want to feel safe to tell my partner what I don’t want”
“I want to feel desired”
“I want to feel beautiful again”
“I want to feel like my womb is a part of me”
“I don’t know what I want to feel, just surprise and delight me”
My heart still flutters when I think of these moments. Not only for the vulnerability of the woman lying down in the middle of her sisters in very little clothing, finding her bravery to ask for what she wants, but for the women tasked with giving what she wanted.
There was such care, such tenderness, and a vast amount of creativity as we showed up for one another. We offered our words to each other with ease, probably because we have each longed to hear those same words whispered to us…
“You are so worthy of getting exactly what you want”
“I see you, you powerful, divine goddess”
“You are safe to accept all of yourself”
“You are breathtaking and exquisite”
“You deserve to be cared for the way your care for others”
We used our hands to massage, stroke foreheads and hair. We used Lit’s sensation play tools to wake up the skin in ways never experienced before, sometimes leading to full body energetic orgasmic energy. Imagine the trust and safety needed to lay in a group of women you barely know and soon find yourself undulating with ecstasy, moaning in pleasure, all without your genitals being touched, and then collapsing in tears from the release you experienced.
Think of struggling with hatred toward your womb for so long, that you don’t consider it a part of yourself. You struggle to feel your body at all. And then having a group of women lay their hands over your abdomen and one of the women spontaneously offers up a healing song of love and soon we are all singing. And then you say “Oh my god, I just arrived in my body. I can feel it” and we all celebrate. A genuine celebration of our own magic.
Imagine wanting to find your voice, so the women around you start vocalizing - low groans, growls, moans, anything that occurs to us, so that you don’t feel alone in finding yours. And slowly, timidly you start to find the low grumble that has wanted to come out, and before long we are all howling like wolves under a full moon. And then laughing, feeling the energy between us and among us, connecting us as we look in each other’s eyes with no small amount of wonder at the power within us.
Imagine not feeling wanted by your parents, and that desire to be filled up emotionally expresses itself with erotic energy. There was not one ounce of shame present as that woman asked if someone would volunteer for her to ride an imaginary c*ck. When one of the sisters stepped up, it was as healing for her because she had always experienced a competition or rejection from women. This allowed her the connection she needed, and after the experience said she felt like she felt like she was inside her energetically, penetrating her.
This all took place with a strict non-sexual boundary. Panties stayed on, and all the women seemed to understand the edge they were comfortable riding. There was a group intuitiveness that emerged, a line that was not crossed, but a playfulness and curiosity of how we use sacred erotic energy to heal ourselves in a carefully curated container of women.
When we gathered in closing, all of us shiny with the experience, someone said, “this feels familiar. It feels ancient. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be with each other in this way.” Everyone else enthusiastically agreed. We had shifted ourselves and each other in a profound way. A safe way. A way that felt etched in our DNA. This is what it means to be witchy; to gather with your sisters and to move and play with your magic, your power, your healing. We have only begun to scratch the surface of the transformation that can occur. Women, gather your coven. We have work to do.