Women of Haines, Alaska
(Excerpt from my book: The Mountain Moved Me)
I had a dream of Haines women. We were in a big circle, one in which I was a part of. In my dream, I was ‘reading’ a friend and the tumultuous pangs of her partnership. When afterward, I circled my eyes around, witnessing these strong women of Haines, AK, warriors in their own eulogy. “We’ve been through some stuff”, I muttered through my mind’s thoughts. Noticing how tall each of them stood.
Most people in their lives have a group of folks tied to their ‘good ole days’. Though I never had that, per say. High school in Virginia was something close to jail, eager to break free from and middle school between VA and NJ was so pubescent I’m not sure I cared enough for others as much as I did myself. Then there was elementary school in NJ and I suppose the student collective was balanced enough for intimate relations for the most part because some of my closest connections have recently presented an opportunity to reintroduce ourselves to each other, forming deeper ties than our 5th grade drama plays.
So, as I review this large oval-circle of women, some I only really know through another, even though we all live together in this tiny town of Haines, AK. Everyday, I see them, we engage at the Mountain Market, or a four finger wave from the cold leather steering wheel. We nod, we smile, or we hide in our invisibility cloak that all women can see through, but intuitively know when to honor space. We’ve been through some stuff, all of us. Some have moved away from Haines, though many will return for the drier season, but that doesn’t seem to diminish our connection. Our changes, these formations we’ve undertaken, have been collective, including the drastic differences between us goddesses. Our school days are in Haines, Alaska. There’s no graduation here, other than doing what’s ‘right for you’. A strong-armed diploma that requires unbelievable amounts of strength of surrender and trust. Never in the realm of ‘this is what I want’, but instead this is what is needed at this time. Our ‘good ole days’ are etched into the mountains, carried into the tides, freed by the wind and illuminated by the light. Feeling so sovereign, and believing that feeling, offered space to be, though it was our collective partnership of the true feminine, the higher intuition of not just being moved by the rhythm but being required to do something with it. These, ‘good ole days’, are not memories from the past, but living as us – far apart and connecting us in-between.