Ever since watching Ari Aster’s incredible film Midsommar last year, I developed this insatiable desire to find my soul tribe, but I mostly became obsessed with this concept of truly being held.
The film depicts a community that feels collectively; whether it be pleasure, pain, chaos, decay, birth, this community does not discriminate. Whatever one person in the community is experiencing is meant to be experienced together. Ladies, can you imagine having a group of supporters that just magically appear when you need to cry, when you need to vent, when you’re having a solo dance party, when you’re pissed at your boyfriend, when you want to dance in the moonlight at Coachella with your girls? Again, this unrealistic utopia that we all need does not discriminate.
My boyfriend and I rewatched Midsommar a couple of weeks ago in the midst of my own Kundalini awakening, so the relationship with my silenced but now wild and untamed feminine is taking over my life in all the good ways. As someone who has definitely used her assertiveness in ways to hide my sensitive side, and who also thought it was absolutely a rite of passage to work insane hours to please others, my feminine side hasn’t had much room to come out and play. The stillness of shelter in place has made this quiet calling deafening, there is this indescribable energy within me that finally understands what it means to be held. What it looks like for my sisters to be held. And ultimately, the magic that happens when we all know that we are held.
I wrote poetry from my elementary years to high school, but once I joined a 4 year book and writers club (aka, my English degree from Ohio State), my relationship with writing changed. Poetry felt too soft, I wanted to be more like my idol Hemingway, bold and daring. What I didn’t know then is that I am bold and daring, my biggest error was just thinking I could be the next Hemingway. No one will ever be, that was his purpose. My purpose is to find my voice, and she very much wants you to know that you are held.