Today, I would describe a preistess as a woman who lives in two worlds at once, who perceives life on earth against a backdrop of a vast, timeless, reality.

When women get together, they tell stories. This is how it has always been. Telling stories is our way of saying who we are, where we have come from, what we know, and where we might be headed.

We achieve true wholeness only by embracing our fragility and sometimes, our brokenness. Wholeness is a natural radiance of Love, and Love demands that we allow the destruction of our old self for the sake of the new.

Women's stories are as powerful, inspiring, and terrifying as the goddess herself. And in fact, these are the stories of the goddess. As women, we know her because we are her. Each woman, no matter how powerless she might feel, is a cell within her vast form, an embodiment of her essence, and each woman's story is a chapter in the biography of the sacred feminine.

Giving birth is priestess work; it requires a woman to pass through a painful and dangerous initiation in which she journeys to the threshold between worlds and risks her own life to help another soul cross over.

Paradoxically, we achieve true wholeness only by embracing our fragility and sometimes, our brokenness.

To wait, to patiently sit in the dark without knowing what the outcome will be, to protect and respect that which has yet no clear form - all these are aspects of the womb.