And the power that erupts within them

Our content writer, Dakota Brown, attended a Woman’s Circle for her first time. Stepping in, she was prepared to hold her walls up high and just observe.

Yet the power, warmth and strength she felt from being surrounded by so many amazing, vulnerable, courageous women was something that impacted her greatly. And so, her walls came tumbling down beautifully, as she later realised they should at a Woman’s Circle. 

Tuesday, August 4, Full Moon in Aquarius.

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to go. 

Like the control freak I am, I had spent the entire day fretting over a uni report that was frighteningly due in a week.

No matter what I did (including a fair amount of panicked emails, god knows how many hours of research and certainly a lot of nail-biting), my report only seemed to laugh in my face and pick up its pace of tumbling down a very catastrophic slope. 

On top of that – and probably even a heavier reason for my anxiety about the night – was the way I had become accustomed to the movements of my body, my spirit, over the past three weeks. 

Since He ended us, I had felt like all I was made up of was a million shattered pieces. Nothing else. Just tiny, insignificant, piercingly painful shards of glass. 

When I moved, they scattered erratically through my skin. Stretching it, cracking it, breaking it. 

When I spoke, they rushed to my throat and formed a thick lump. 

When I cried, they bred. I cried a lot, and so they grew. And grew. 

And so I faded, to the transparency of glass. 

Little did I realise that a Woman’s Circle under the glowing moon in all her Aquarian energy was exactly what I needed.

To let go of the fear. The worry. The control. 

Over the report. Over what I could have done. To change his decision. 

My best friend, Madi, and I had booked these tickets well in advance, and I refused to cancel on her last minute simply because of my over-thinking, stressed out state. 

As if. 

Like hell I’m giving this report the satisfaction of ruining my night. 

Like hell I’m giving that to him. 

While we drove out to the serene countryside, Madi and I blindly guessed about what we were heading to: 

What if it’s real hippy-dippy. With purple silk and obnoxious sandalwood incense and all we do is sit and say ‘OHMMMMMMMM’?

Maybe we dance naked around a fire and howl to the sky.

What if there’s a ceremony and we have to drink some sacred liquid?

Maybe we just lie there and listen to chakra music and try not fall asleep.

We were so, utterly, off the mark. Except for the fire and the howling, that was exhilarating. 

In the dead of night, surrounded by the peaceful swaying of thick, forest trees and the distant singsong of Australian Owlet-nightjars, we laid our first gaze on the Wonder Dome.

Nestled amongst ivy vines, pastel pink flowers, and floating pot plants sat the Wonder Dome; a tiny home tucked securely underneath the vast forest trees. 

To describe this dome without referring to my first thought upon seeing it – Hobbiton – is possibly impossible. Carved as smooth as honey, with a soft, heart-shaped window and a striking timber door nestled under an ivy archway, the Wonder Dome honestly took my breath away.

In that moment, Madi and I looked to each other, her eyes twinkling with the excitement that I felt vibrating through me. In an unspoken acknowledgement, we both realised that what was coming would be nothing like we imagined. 

Stepping into the Wonder Dome was like crossing the threshold into a fairytale.

The smooth, honey-like walls curled around us – like a comforting hug – and met effortlessly at the top; where delicate fairy lights hung, flittering against the candles below.

Across the warm, timber floorboards, in the centre of the dome, laid a circle of deep red pillows, each with a notepad, pen, and copy of the exquisite poetry book to serve.

We were met by Beth, one of the most grounding and humbling souls I have ever met, and also the founder of this WMN Circle. After serving us tea and getting us settled, Beth encouraged us to pick a Tarot card from the spread.

My hand fluttered to Surrender. 

The moment I read this card’s synopsis – not even the full reading in the Tarot book – was the moment I realised this night, this Woman’s circle. 

This Wonder Dome, this exhilarating feminine energy. 

This confusion and hurt and trauma blistering through my body in a million shattered pieces. 

This constant sense of unbelonging. Of a lost sense of direction. Of a lost sense of myself. 

Even this damn report squirming in my head.

This full moon of letting go. Of finding the freedom to be unapologetically me.

All of this has led me to this moment. Picking Surrender. 

Surrender pushed me to reflect on the way I try with all my might to control life. Every tid bit. Down to a sentence, a feeling, a person. 

And then it asked me to, slowly, begin relaxing that tortuous rein on myself. 

To let go of the things I cannot control. The words I cannot put together. The person I crave but can’t have. 

A big ask from a little card. A big ask of me.

But I began trying, there and then, as Beth took us through a beautiful, visually compelling meditation:

I am barefoot, in a forest. 

The moon is flaring.

The trees are still.

I am alone, yet far from lonely.

I am whole. 

There are three mirrors. 

In one, I see a time when I was brave.

In the second, I see my ability to be creative. 

In the third, I see where I find ecstasy. 

After journaling our experiences from looking in those mirrors, we had time to chat over tea and cake. I’m naturally a very shy and reserved person, unlike Madi, who talked to the room. 

But I found solace in that space. Soaking up the Divine Feminine energy that floated through the dome as easily as clouds do in the sky. 

I felt a sense of belonging. 

There was no judgement. No assumptions. No pressure or standards or egos. 

Just, love. 

And warmth. 

Later, Beth asked us to share what our Tarot card and journaling brought up.

What we learned. And what we’re letting go of to become the freest version of ourselves. 

I was last. 

Each woman talked from her intuition, her heart. We listened like every word mattered, because it did.

I cannot recall the names of each woman in the circle, but I remember what they voiced. That vulnerability and courage, to talk so openly, under such an emotionally strenuous pull as a full moon, to a room of strangers. 

That is something I cannot forget. 

When it came to me, I had points in my head. Ready to go. 

But the shards came rushing to my throat. I could barely talk. 

I gazed around at each beautiful face in the dim light. Buying time. 

They all gazed softly back. 

Illuminated behind each of their eyes was the same energy.

Of love.

Of acceptance. 

Of understanding. 

At that moment, I knew we were far from strangers. 

And so I spoke:

“I have never, ever had such a slap in the – in the face from a Tarot reading. Letting go…of the things I have no control over. That’s – that’s what I’m learning here. To let go.”

And so the lump began to shrink. 

With gratefulness + harmony,

Dakota