An excerpt from Chapter 6, Sacred Enoughness and The Red Tent, Sande Hart of Global Woman’s Village‘s book The Liminal Odyssey
Coming Soon to a Location By You!*
The results came in late the evening of the 2016 U.S. Presidential election. There I sat, straight up in bed with my back to my headboard and hands holding my womb as if I was protecting my next seven generations with my life. Every cell in my body was terrified and shocked. It was not a cognitive response. My psyche was stunned with paralyzing fear. I literally could not lay down and remained sitting up in bed for about two hours. Logically, I tried to reason that my gal did not win and, oh well. It would not be the first race my team lost. But this was something far greater than my five senses could recognize.
While sitting there frozen, a cellular memory jog was in progress; one catalyzed by a recipe of the senses I did not recognize because I had not yet read Gary’s book and I was only relying on the five obvious senses I did know. All 37 trillion cells in my body were preparing for flight as if they had better run because the Nazis are coming. According to their memory, the sirens were blaring so they started to pack. I stopped them at the door with a new plan, with hands on hips, shoulders back, low resister in my voice, proclaiming, “Mother’s got this.”
It did not take long before the Million Woman March was organized and S.A.R.A.H. signed up to organize some women and attend. We also secured an exhibit table. But we would not just host a table and hand out disposable pamphlets. We had a better plan.
It was the same impulse to gather women after 9/11 in my living room that prompted the idea to gather women into a Red Tent; a womb-space in the midst of this highly dynamic and energized flow of a reported one million people in the streets of downtown Los Angeles.
If we were serious about standing up and marching together, we would need a safe and warm place to sit or lie down together in circle and go within the depths of our womanhood. After all, we are the majority vote and make up 80+% of all household buying decisions.
A red tent is like a charging station for our power so we could step out fueled up and best prepared to heal our world.
We also know, consciously or subconsciously, beyond the siloed five senses, Mother’s in charge.
It really wasn’t a march. It was more like a shuffle. There were four or more parallel, and at least 10 cross blocks stuffed with cheerfully indignant citizens who were all saying, “Oh, hell no,” in the most vibrant and creative ways. At first, no one was sure what direction to walk, but eventually, we found a collective rhythm and faced the same direction.
There seemed to be equal numbers of women and men of all ages, children, and the occasional dog. I later heard that buses and trains were stopped en route due to the crowd, so people jumped out and marched where they were. Each exhibit space came with a 10×10 tent, so we brought miles of red fabric, a rug, plenty of comfy pillows to lay on, electric candles, and a bowl of chocolate candy for the altar. The tent was enclosed on all four sides. The energy outside was electric and the air was filled with a thick layer of advocacy and power-driven chants, songs, and clever and hilarious homemade signs.
But step inside the red tent to a sacred place where, depending on the moment, you would find women singing, meditating, crying, laughing, or quietly talking with new sisters. Stepping in from the high energy of the streets North and South, East, and West into a space where the energy flowed in a spiral was magical. Some women came and left, and a few young women stayed all day. One homeless woman joined us and we filled her pockets with chocolate before she left. I brought three bags of chocolate. Women were helping themselves to the bowl all day long. When it was time to pack up, I found the bowl still had plenty of chocolates with two unopened bags still stashed away.
We were among more than four million people on planet Earth facing the same direction, with not one recorded act of violence, energized by the same sacred enough-ness. In the center was a red tent holding space for us all.
*Coming Soon to a Location by You. Sande Hart organized the Global Woman’s Village at the Parliament of the World’s Religions in 2023. (IMHO by Caryn MacGrandle & I have heard this elsewhere, too), it was the Heart of the Parliament. Well, of course. Enjoy these pictures from the Parliament and reach out to us for help in arranging a Red Tent by You. We’ve got the network to help. And this is The Time.
