Cracked Wide Open
There’s something sacred about a women’s circle. It holds you, gently, but firmly reminding you that you are not alone. A few years ago, I experienced this firsthand during a women’s retreat that etched itself on my heart. Recently, I’ve found myself revisiting it, reflecting with new eyes and a deeper appreciation for what it truly meant.
Upon entering the retreat, we were asked to gather into a circle at the start of the day. The chairs were already placed, each one silently waiting to be claimed. As the women trickled in, they instinctively chose their spots. It’s always fascinating to witness a group of strangers begin to settle in with quiet chatter, nervous laughter, and curious glances. We all carried invisible stories, like pebbles in our pockets.
The facilitator welcomed us and began walking us through our packets, explaining the schedule and intentions for the day. I remember noticing she hadn’t asked us to introduce ourselves right away. At first, I judged that choice, thinking of my own future workshops and silently noting, “Always start with introductions.”
But then she shifted gears. After the initial overview, she turned to the woman on her left and asked her to share her name and what brought her to the retreat. Ah, note to self: I love how she waited for us to settle in before inviting us to share.
As each woman began to speak, the energy shifted. Some shared freely, some hesitantly. When the second woman said her name and then passed on the invitation to go deeper, I felt my heart tug. Something in her body language whispered, “Not yet.” I honored that. We never know the weight another woman carries.
When it was my turn, I spoke honestly about my own messy journey with mindfulness. About how good it feels when I’m consistent and how frustrating it is when I fall out of routine, even though I know better. I saw knowing smiles and head nods around the circle. It reminded me that truth connects us more than perfection ever could.
As the day unfolded, so did our stories. One by one, the walls we arrived with began to crumble. There’s power in shared vulnerability. It softens and binds us.
Later that day, the facilitator brought out rosemary from her garden, a symbol of remembrance and heart-opening. In front of the fragrant bush were tiny slips of paper, each adorned with a quote. We were asked to choose the one that spoke most to our hearts.
I watched as each woman slowly took a quote, read it, and held it like a little treasure. Again, when it came time to share, the same woman who had passed earlier chose silence. Her friend gently mentioned she was going through something difficult. My heart ached with compassion.
And yet, later that day, during a labyrinth walk, she shared. Quietly, thoughtfully, her voice cracked open with emotion and truth. She didn’t owe us anything, but she offered us her heart. And in that moment, it felt like we were all witnessing a sacred blooming.
That retreat reminded me of something I never want to forget: you never know what someone is holding inside. We all show up with invisible burdens, hidden hopes, and old wounds. And sometimes, in the right circle, in the presence of open hearts, those burdens begin to lift.
Sometimes it takes just one safe space to begin healing. Sometimes we don’t need to be fixed, only to be heard. And sometimes, the greatest gift we give each other is simply being there with our full presence and compassion.
We came in as strangers, but we left as sisters in spirit. Women need spaces to be real, raw, and received without judgment. We all long to be understood, but first, we must be safe enough to be seen.
And sometimes, trusting strangers might just be the very thing that cracks your heart wide open.
So here’s to:
Circles.
To rosemary and labyrinths.
To not rushing the process.
To the quiet ones who speak when they’re ready.
To the brave ones who crack open and let the light in.
If you find yourself or witness someone cracked wide open, allow grace, compassion and love to flow through you and them. Let’s keep building sacred spaces, one story, one heart and one circle at a time.
XO Sheryl
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