About a month ago I stopped writing Part 1 of this blog because it was late and too many words were already on the page. I imagined picking it up in the morning – I knew exactly what I was going to say and how I planned to act on it.

But when morning came life interfered, as it so often does, and I lost the rhythm. If that happens while I’m working on a novel, I go into research mode—so that’s what I did.

In searching for the image we four women created in the hot tub, I found the beautiful pendant pictured above, and I ordered one for each of the four us who were together in the hot tub at that magical moment. Everything still seemed to be falling into place even though I wasn’t writing.

Here’s some of what I learned.

The equilateral cross in a circle, sometimes called a sun cross, is one of the oldest symbols archaeologists have discovered. Ancient examples are common across the globe, dating mostly from the neolithic period to the bronze age.

Carvings and petroglyphs dating from c. 1800–500 BCE are ubiquitous across the Celtic world from Scandinavia to Ireland, where they were interpreted as representing the sun. It is also known as the wheel of the year, the solar wheel, the wheel of the chariot of the sun god, the sacred hoop and the medicine wheel. In ancient Egypt, the symbol means village.

More recently, the Sonnenkreuz was used of the flag design of the Paneuropean Union in the 1920s. The solar cross has also been adopted by neo-Nazi and white supremacist groups—the swastika is a variation of it.

Closer to my heart is another variation, the Cathar or Occitan cross, also called the Cross of Toulouse.

Personally, I see the cross-in-a-circle as a symbol of the connectedness to the whole, on an equal basis, of all the archetypal quaternaries and dualities—the four directions, the sacred masculine and feminine, space and time, above and below, the rich and poor, women and men, heaven and earth, spirit and matter, the imaginary world and the physical world, and so on. Balance.

The point of intersection represents the source of all creation. The circle surrounding the cross represents eternity and the cyclic nature of life.

Even after learning so much about the symbol and seeing it all around me, written words wouldn’t come. I took a walk in the woods while contemplating the meaning of the manifestation of such a powerful symbol at that particular moment in terms of my purpose in life.

A message published by Hopi elders a few years ago came to me.

“There is a river flowing now very fast.

It is so great and swift

that there are those who will be afraid.

They will hold on to the shore;

they will feel they are being torn apart

and will suffer greatly.

Know that the river has its destination.

The elders say we must let go of the shore,

push off into the middle of the river,

keep our eyes open and our heads above the water.

And I say, see who is there with you and celebrate.

That’s where we were, we four women in the Japanese hot tub on the 20th of February, emerging from the waters of meditation to embrace.

We became a unit, a new family, a cell.

When a caterpillar creates a chrysalis around itself, DNA carrying the image of part of the butterfly activates in some of its cells. The caterpillar cells lacking that DNA secrete enzymes to dissolve the newly awakened cells, whom they see as invaders. The isolated imaginal cells succumb at first, but when they’re drawn into groups by the frequency they resonate, they’re able survive the attack. The caterpillar cells continue excreting the enzyme until they dissolve into it, creating the soup that will nourish the imaginal cells as they fulfill their destiny to become an essential part of the new form, the butterfly.

In this time of the dissolution of stories, expectations, and certainty of any sort. that’s exactly what we humans need to do.

The Hopi prophecy continues,

At this time in history,

we are to take nothing personally,

least of all ourselves,

for the moment we do,

our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt.

The way of the lone wolf is over.

Gather yourselves.

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner

and in celebration.

WE ARE THE ONES WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.

Full of certainty, I immediately set out to encourage the creation of small groups of women, of men and women, of people who resonate on the same frequency, to meet regularly, both to be present for each other during the ongoing dissolution of this reality, and to create parts of its transformed form.

I thought of the groups as “nests,” a concept I’d come across years ago. and realized that I was already part of a few: regularly scheduled zooms calls with family and with friends, women’s circles I’ve participated in for decades, and even my French conversation group. But I wanted more. I wanted to set up groups specifically to provide support in hard times as well as generative space where new ideas might bloom. I wanted to create imaginal cells.

Alas, within days, the first group I tried to set up fell apart. Then I learned that the pendants I had ordered were being sent to the wrong address.

I retreated. Certainty, I recalled, is almost always a mistake. I stopped working on this essay entirely for a couple weeks.

Then, yesterday, a small package came in the mail. The pendants hadn’t gone to the wrong address.

Tomorrow I’m having lunch with some of my closest women friends. Who knows what will emerge from such fertile ground?