I held my breath,

Sure that the angry condemnations were coming. 

I had just spent Friday night curled up in the corner of our L-shaped couch with my eight year old daughter, welcoming her to womanhood. 

We stumbled (gracefully) into the most stunning conversation about puberty, menstruation and birth when my daughter was trying to understand a Rashi she had learned in school. 

In the parsha for that week, Sarah Imeinu famously laughed at being told she was about to be a mother. Rashi explained it was because, "her body did not anymore know the ways of young women."

My daughter wanted to know what Rashi meant. What were the ways of young women's bodies? What made Sarah's body different? What happens as we age? How do our bodies know how and when to have children?

She was brimming with questions as I put down my own book, and together, we spent the next hour unveiling the miracles of the feminine form. 

At one point, there were tears.

I worried that I had told her too much. That she wasn't ready for it all. 

I wanted to jump in and take back everything, but before I could even try, she spoke up.

"I'm not crying because I'm sad Ma,* I'm crying because everything you told me is so beautiful. I can't wait to become a woman."

(*This was when she still called me "Ma." I am now referred to as "Mother." It's an expression that also comes with a special eye roll. IYKYK.)

She walked around like she was keeping the best possible secret to herself for the rest of the weekend. But I worried. 

What if I had told her too much?

What if she wasn't ready?

What if I started getting calls from her friends' moms accusing me of breaking the unspoken boundaries we're all supposed to keep around these subjects?

So after Shabbos, I sent a voicenote out to some of the moms of her friends. Told them that we had had "the conversation" Friday night. Expressed the specific topics we covered and the exact nature of the details given. So that just in case our kids ended up talking, there would be no confusion over what information they had or didn't have. 

And then I held my breath. 

Sure that the angry condemnations were coming. 

Instead, text after text came in from moms asking me if they could forward my voicenote to their sisters, friends, neighbors, and asking if I would be willing to teach their daughters too. 

I was shocked. 

And also pleased. 

For about a day. 

Until the discomfort started creeping in. 

Why were all these women so quick to hand their daughters and their initiations into womanhood over to me? Why were so many women afraid to have these conversations themselves?

At the time I was in school for intimacy counseling, majoring in female s*xuality. And after speaking with and polling hundreds of women, I found that an astounding percentage of women do not feel like the experts of their own bodies, femininity, and overall health.*

(*Shockingly, there are minimal differences between the statistics in the Jewish and secular worlds when it comes to women's health and embodied agency. We're all struggling, but that's for an entirely different email.... or podcast.)

How have women become so disconnected from their innate knowing, their binah yeseira, the wisdom that lives within?

In fact, in Mishlei, wisdom is considered a virtue of the feminine. 

אֱמֹ֣ר לַֽ֖חָכְמָה אֲחֹ֣תִי אָ֑תְּ 

Say to wisdom, "You are my sister"

When did women lose touch with what makes us celebrated and beloved?

Well, we explore that and more in Ignite. 

Rec·la·ma·tion

/ˌrekləˈmāSH(ə)n/

noun

the process of claiming something back or of reasserting a right

I looked up that exact defintion for you Kindred, because it's a word that I use a lot when it comes to speaking about Ignite and it's also a word that seems to generate confusion when I do. 

What are women choosing to reclaim when joining Ignite?

Well, everything really. 

Everything that makes us women. 

Ignite was developed as a result of hundreds of conversations I've had with women who feel lost, lonely, ill equipped and distanced from the celebrated feminine Torah describes us to be. 

Ignite is therefore a reclamation. A rediscovering of who we really are, who we were always meant to become, and offers communal support so that we no longer have to do it alone. 

Our sixth cohort of Ignite opens for registration on the first night of Chanukah, 8pm EST. 

Early registration makes you eligible for an amazing discount offer that will only be available for the duration of Chanukah.

....and registration will only be open for 14 days. 

I've noticed that people tend to either sign up immediately, or at the very last minute. There tend to be no in-betweens. So I'm eliminating that nervous tension for us all. 

If you know you'll be joining us, you'll want to get in right away for that discount. If you know you'll be joining us but need that last minute push, you have until midnight, January 8.

This cohort is going to be better than anything I've ever taught before. I can't wait for you to be a part of it.

Fally

----

* As promised, more Ignite art from Rachel Fraida. Aptly titled, The Reclamation.

“The Reclamation”

Here under the trees

We have a reintroduction

To a sacred knowing

From a place of kindness

Without judgment

So we can reclaim

The sacred knowing

With love

* If you've taken Ignite before, this is your reminder that you're already registered to rejoin us, free of charge! Ignite gives participants lifetime membership. We can't wait to welcome you back as an elder of the tribe! 

* Get a taste of Ignite here with a free meditation download!