Womanhood today is tenative and unsure, a thing defined more by what it isn't than by what it is. For some women , this is a problem. They have been raised above the complexities of society's projections and misunderstandings and now fly high above the clouds. For most women however, the resistances they encountered as they reached for the sky were so great that their wings have now drooped, and they try no longer.
Womenhood is a mass pain of unspoken depth; and when we try to speak it, we're liable to be told, "There you go- complaining again"!
As long as this is true, not half but all of humanity is obstructed in its journey to our cosmic destination. This destination is far, far away, a place so deep inside us that we have barley glimpsed its outer walls.
But the dirt around us is moving, making room for tiny sprouts. Like every woman, I know what I know. Something is starting to happen. New thinkgs lie in store for the earth, and one of them is us. Womenhood is being recast, and we are pregnant, en masse, giving birth to our own redemption.