Under Artemis, We Stop Pretending
There was never a moment where I decided that women gathering was important. It was always there. A quiet knowing more than a belief.
And for over 25 years now, I have followed that thread through women’s circles, red tents, artist workshops, and sacred retreats, online and in person, across countries, cultures, and languages.
At first, I thought it was about connection. Support. Healing. A softer place to land.
And it is all of that.
But over time, I started noticing something more precise.
When women gather outside of the structures they have adapted to, something shifts. Not dramatically, not in a way that performs itself outwardly, but in the body. In the voice. In the way a woman occupies space without checking if she is allowed to.
The nervous system settles. The usual filters loosen. Truth surfaces, sometimes hesitantly, sometimes clearly, but unmistakably.
And space expands.
Not the polite kind of space, but the kind where you are no longer adjusting yourself to be received. You are simply there. Fully.
I have seen this in women who arrived quiet and careful, measuring their words. I have seen it in women who thought they were “too much” and learned to make themselves smaller. I have seen it in women who had not spoken certain truths out loud in years.
Something opens.
Not because anyone fixes them. Not because anyone teaches them how to be.
Because the space allows it.
And that space does not create itself.
It is held. Intentionally.
I hold it by refusing pretence. By not rushing to fill silence. By not softening truth when it becomes uncomfortable. By not stepping in to rescue or reframe too quickly.
I pay attention to the moment a woman starts to edit herself, the moment she almost pulls back.
And I stay with her there.
Not to push her forward, but to make it safe enough for her not to disappear.
I hold the edges. I keep the space steady. I notice when something true is about to surface, and I do not interrupt it.
I create a container where nothing needs to be performed, improved, or resolved too quickly.
And slowly, what has been held back begins to move.
That is where the shift happens.
This has never been about excluding men. I love men.
But there is something specific that happens in women-only spaces that cannot be replicated elsewhere. A different rhythm emerges. A different quality of attention. A different way of witnessing and being witnessed.
Less interruption.
Less performance.
Less unconscious negotiation.
More presence.
More depth.
More truth.
And this is where Artemis comes in.
Not as a soft symbol of sisterhood, but as its sharp, honest patron.
Artemis does not gather women to create comfort. She gathers them to return them to themselves. Away from roles, away from expectations, away from the subtle negotiations that shape how we speak, soften, or hold back.
She is the one who says: be as you are, not as you have been shaped to be received.
Under her energy, things become very simple.
You speak what is true.
You listen without fixing.
You stand in your own ground while allowing others to stand in theirs.
There is no hierarchy. No performance. No quiet competition dressed as kindness.
And something else dissolves too.
The need to compare.
The need to be better or worse.
The need to find your place in a silent ranking system.
Instead, there is recognition.
Not agreement. Not sameness.
Recognition.
It is not always comfortable.
But it is clean. And it is alive.
This is the kind of sisterhood I have been devoted to. Not curated, not aesthetic, not something that looks good from the outside, but something that feels real from within.
A space where you recognise yourself again, and recognise other women not as comparison or threat, but as presence.
Over the years, another layer revealed itself.
This work is not only personal. It is not only about healing or connection. It is also structural.
There is an idea that has stayed with me for a long time, explored by Jean Shinoda Bolen in The Millionth Circle.
A group follows a pattern. One individual changes and nothing happens. A few more change and still nothing.
But at some point, a threshold is reached.
Not half the group. Often far less. Sometimes around twenty percent.
And then the system shifts.
Not gradually, but all at once.
There is no exact number. But there is a tipping point.
I always smile when I think about the monkey example, because it sounds slightly ridiculous, and yet it illustrates something very real. One monkey eating differently changes nothing. A few more, still nothing. And then suddenly, the whole group adopts the new behaviour.
Now take that out of theory.
And place it here.
In how we live.
In how we relate.
In how we gather.
Every circle. Every honest conversation. Every moment where a woman chooses truth over performance and presence over perfection contributes to a wider field.
It may look small.
One room. One group. One shared experience.
But it accumulates.
Quietly. Steadily.
Until it does not stay small anymore.
For me, this is not about defeating the patriarchy as we have been taught to fight it.
Not through opposition alone. Not through constant resistance.
But through reorientation.
A shift in the center of gravity.
From control to instinct.
From comparison to recognition.
From performance to presence.
From living in reaction to living in alignment.
And that kind of shift cannot happen in isolation.
It needs to be experienced. In the body. In relationship. In spaces where something different is not just understood, but lived.
Because once you have been in that kind of space, even briefly, something in you refuses to fully go back.
You recognise it.
In yourself.
In other women.
In the way you move afterwards.
The contraction becomes more visible. The self-editing becomes louder. And something steadier begins to take its place.
Not louder. Not more forceful.
But more certain.
Maybe that is how the shift happens.
Not loudly. Not all at once.
But through enough women remembering. Enough spaces being held. Enough truth being spoken.
Until the balance begins to move.
If something in you recognises this, there are two ways to step into it more fully right now.
The Three Gates of Spring is a one-day immersion into the energies of Persephone, Artemis, and Aphrodite. A small, held space to experience this kind of gathering in a simple, tangible way. A moment to step out of the usual rhythm and feel, in your body, what changes when you are surrounded by women who are not performing, not fixing, not comparing, but simply present.
If this feels like something you want to step into, you can explore more here:
https://isayabelle.thrivecart.com/3ggdr/
Living a Goddess Life: Initiation is a deeper threshold. Five days in nature. A sustained field. A return to rhythm, instinct, and embodied sovereignty. The kind of space where the shift has time to anchor, where it moves beyond a glimpse and becomes something you can carry back into your life.
If this speaks to you more deeply, you can explore it here:
https://isayabelle.com/lagl.initiation
Or come and talk to me directly. No pressure, no performance. Just a conversation.
Not to become someone else,
but to stop holding yourself back
and feel what becomes possible when you are no longer standing alone.
If you know a sister, a friend, a fellow Goddess on the path who might need this too, feel free to share this article with her.
In truth,
Isaya
