Main menu

The Ya-Ya Sisterhood

“All I can say is, I hope this is not a real emergency because I only brought one bottle of vodka.”

~ Rebecca Wells – The Divine Secrets of the Yaya Sisterhood

I crave sisterhood. I pine for it. I lust for it. I talk about it incessantly. A coven. A tribe. A wolf pack. Soul sisters with magical ways, lions hearts and chameleon souls. And wildness. Always wildness.

Why do I crave this so deeply? It started with my mom and her sister and the friendship they had with each other, and with other women.

Mom and Aunt Renee were 16 years apart in age but were closer than that in spirit and soul. Watching them as a kid I could see their secret language. They knew what each other was thinking without words being said.

Besides each other they both had long term female friendships. A tribe of crazy ladies who (mostly) did whatever they wanted in a time where not a lot of women were like that. Women who were brazen and bawdy and made of stardust.

Fabulously dressed. Always up to something; a trip around the world, working a political campaign, raising kids, singing in rock bands, marrying younger men. MAGIC.

And laughter. There was always so much laughter, even when someone showed up with wine and a casserole in a time of trauma, I could still hear the laughter from my bedroom.

I never had a sister. I have a fabulous older brother, but growing up watching my mom and my Aunt Renee and their circle of yaya’s was beautiful. This was my influence. It is all I have ever wanted.

Ask and you shall receive. Blissfully I have that. My circle of women is divine. There is no other word for it. There is a scene in Sex and the City where Carries says to the other three, “You are my heart. My soul. My insides. What if I had never met you?”

How I get that. What if I had never met them? These women who know my deepest secrets. Who call and text in a way that is the balm that soothes my soul. Women who make me laugh, make me feel invincible, and hold my heart so close to theirs.

I take these relationships seriously. They are my life elixir. Truthfully I have not always been the best friend I could be, but every time I cringe over these regrets I know it was me being my authentic self. Me in a moment of envy or rage. My fear of missing out. Old hurts saying I will hurt you first. All that was authentic me trying to get a need met. Because they love me, we move on, and vice versa. Mostly.

There is safety in that. That feeling of shattering in a million pieces knowing they will pick me up at my worst and put me back together. And press their hands on me to hold me steady and firm, until the glue that is their love hardens, and I can stand upright again, on my own.

Not all of these magic makers are in real life. We live in different cities. We have different lives. Some I have never met but connected to in a way that says we first go to know each other in the womb. My yaya’s, my hetero life partners, my significant others, my besties, my FRIENDS.

Bonded not by geography, race, income, sexuality, style or faith. Only by passion, humour and kindness. This divine connection is how we traverse the river of life together. It is where the “ship” in friendship comes from.  Mates. Soul mates.

I don’t trust women that don’t like other women. We are all in this together and we NEED each other. It is why Tina and I created The Coven of the Esoteric Muse. It is why we decided to do a two for one on our latest course. It is why I have always wanted a sister.

Find your people. They might be in the Coven. I have been watching friendships blossom out of that space and it is gold. Reminders of my mom, and my aunt, and their circle of yaya’s. Soul sisters with magical ways, lions hearts and chameleon souls. And wildness. Always wildness. Love them and hold them close. It is my wish for you.

Stay Gold Wild Ones.
Thanks for hanging out with me!

Loves,

Renee_signature

2 Comments

  1. Pingback: What the Fuck is Authentic? | OH HAI KIKI

  2. Pingback: What the Fuck is Authentic? - oh hai Kiki

Leave a Reply

Mailing List

Musings on love, laughter, freedom right to your inbox. Your wildness is calling.
* = required field