One of my good friends always says that there must be a secret manual out there about how to dress well.
“It’s a big conspiracy!” she’ll cry, faux outraged. “They’re hiding it from me!”
This incredibly intelligent woman finds herself flummoxed by shoes, color, bags and earrings.
Not me. It’s like I was born with an intuitive sense of how to make things beautiful– whether it’s an outfit or a room.
But other things are ridiculously difficult for me.
Things that seem simple to other people. Being on time, keeping numbers straight in spreadsheets, running a household. OHMYGOD. Still, I’ve learned how to manage these things with good systems, delegation, and dollops of beauty. (Which many of you have learned about in The Queen Sweep.)
But there were deeper things I didn’t know. Invisible skills other people seemed to have.
Like how to stand up for myself without being a bitch. Or how to ask for what I really wanted in a relationship. Or how to deal with the intensity of other people– how to maintain my own self even when other people are angry, sad, upset, or depressed.
How the hell did everyone know this stuff? I emerged from college like a baby bird– wet, half-blind, and disoriented. It seemed like everyone else was zooming off equipped with ambition, clear goals, and a seven-step plan to world domination.
I craved to go deeper than ambition. And I wanted to do more than just manage the chaos of daily life. For years, I pored over stories of magical women– the healers of Avalon, the wise women who understood herbs and potions, canny broads who used their intuition as well as their street smarts.
Compared to them, I felt like a little girl.
When was I going to grow up and be initiated into the secrets of womanhood? When would the circle of wise women show me how to take my place among them?
I waited and waited. And finally, I decided to stop waiting and go looking. And then– at that moment when I finally got sick of waiting– I felt a faint shimmer of laughter come from the invisible world I sensed just behind the curtain of what I could see. “At last!” they seemed to chuckle. “You’ve finally figured it out!” the crones seemed to rejoice.
The big secret is that there is no secret.
All that time I spent waiting– to be discovered, to be sought out, to be recognized and chosen– it turned out my own power had been waiting.
For ME.
All along, I had the tools I needed, just like Dorothy. But nobody ever showed me how to activate them. Nobody taught me how to build my muscles. So I’d like to show you.
I’ve learned some uncommon things about being a powerful woman. What I’ve learned has helped me to leave unhealthy situations, flourish in unconventional careers, and embrace delight with a great joy shout.
I’ve learned how to stand up to bullies, draw good boundaries, and move through the rapidly shifting chaos of the physical world. I pay my bills on time, I take excellent care of my daughter, and my house is clean.
But this is just the surface.
There is a deep richness to my inner life that not everyone can appreciate. I know how to dwell in beauty, drink from the deep well of mystery, and let golden rivulets of pleasure run through my soul. Not everyone cares about this…but my hunch is that you do. That you can hear the silent thrumming… or that you desperately yearn to.
If so, I want to show you some of the potent tools you already have at your disposal. I want every single woman I know to understand these. They’re our birthright, our inheritance.
Join me for a free class I’m teaching next Tuesday, September 24th.
Consider this your invitation to step into the circle of wise women.
