And it was exactly what I needed.
Photo by Ian Kiely
When I moved to Ireland, I vowed to say yes to whatever the universe presented. Whether that meant getting back on stage to tell jokes or joining a roller derby team, I was game.
The move in itself was an adventure. I’d lived outside the U.S. as a child, in Saudi Arabia, so while I knew it would not always be easy, I wanted to experience it with my husband and son as well.
I’d never been to Ireland, but I felt a calling. My name means “tower of strength” in Irish and my family comes from Irish ancestry. In 2016, there was tech boom in Dublin and getting a job was easy. My son was also about to start school, so the timing could not have been better. It was a bonus that the country wasn’t that far from the U.S. (which was the grandparents’ biggest concern) and that there was no need to learn a new language (although some of those rural Irish accents can be tough to interpret).
So we moved, and I became a “yes” person (it helped that I didn’t know anyone and was desperate for friends). This new philosophy hasn’t disappointed me since.
Years later, when a friend and fellow mom from my son’s school asked if I was interested in taking part in an all-female summer solstice celebration, you can guess my answer. But this wasn’t going to be just any solstice celebration. Oh, no. This was meant to be a group of women gathering in a field, shedding our clothes, and arranging our bodies in the shape of a giant (wo)mandala, which would be photographed from above by a drone. You know, just the usual summertime fun with the girls.
While this “yes” took a bit longer to get to than usual, I still didn’t need much convincing. After checking out the Facebook group (because of course there was a Facebook group), it became even more clear that this would be an experience that would challenge my comfort levels and bring nervous butterflies to my stomach. Which is exactly why I knew I had to do it.
Let the ceremony begin.
I do love me some rituals: incense burning, dressing up in robes, chanting—bring it. I am a recovering Catholic, after all. I have a small altar in my office and regularly attend a communal singing group, but getting woo-woo in the Wicklow mountains took it to a whole new level.
Crystals, flowers, and drums stretched as far as the eye could see. Birkenstocks? They could have been an event sponsor. Cacao? Our cups were overflowing with the stuff. Flowy velvet scarves? A must-have accessory.
Once everyone settled in, still clothed, we introduced ourselves matrilineally. Multiple mother-daughter pairs were there, a few sisters, and a teacher from my son’s school. Some women had driven hours to attend. As I said my name, my grandmother’s name, then my mother’s, and finally my son’s, I felt a sense of pride wash over me.
Then there was drumming, we said prayers, sang a few call-and-response numbers, and limbered up with some dancing. The ceremony thus far felt like a uniquely Irish experience. We were celebrating nature, our ancestors, and the mystical connection between the two; something the Irish know well.
Then it was time to get to work. The art director and mandala wrangler, Mayumi Nakabayashi, was tasked with moving us into position. We were going to form two large mandalas—a circular design made up of repeating symbols—with our bodies. As she walked around us, twisting and arranging us into place, we made small talk with those near us, full of anticipation for the real event. And after the literal dress rehearsal, it was time to strip down.
As I’ve gone through perimenopause, my body has changed shape. I have more of a stomach than I’ve ever had before and I’ve gained weight, so putting it all on display wasn’t something I was looking forward to. I was scared of being seen and compared to those around me. But something happened once we all had our clothes off: the feeling of sun and breeze on my bare skin made me giddy with excitement—and I wasn’t the only one. All around me women were giggling; there were boobs of all sizes, hips, scars, curves, and bodies changed by time or surgery or childbearing.
Maybe there wasn’t just one type of female body, as I had been told and shown my entire life.
We managed to stop giggling (at least a little) and lay on the grass in the positions we had practiced. Mayumi made her way around the circle, rearranging our bodies and making adjustments as needed. Once we were in place, the drone operator (the only man at the event, lucky guy) flew the camera up above and got the shots.
Towards the end of the shoot, a light rain started to fall. It was a sensual moment, enjoying the raindrops hitting our naked skin, all of us women, together. We were laughing, rolling in the grass, and soaking it all in. There may have been some trauma caused by a swarming cloud of midges (which are smaller than mosquitoes but every bit as annoying), but the bites all over my body were simply a sacrifice to the goddesses of beauty, art, and pleasure.
We moved slowly getting dressed when the shoot was over. The enchantment was ending, we were putting our layers back on, and heading back to real life where groups of women don’t just decide to get naked and frolic in the woods together at any given moment. But for one morning, we gave ourselves permission, and it was worth every nervous butterfly and midge bite.
Soaking up the love.
I know that getting naked outdoors with strangers sounds crazy. So much so that I didn’t actually share my experience (and certainly not the photos) with many people. The handful of times I did, I was met with bewildered looks and questioning glances. Though a few women did seem curious, intrigued even, most said they could never do something like this. Never? But imagine how our body image might change if we were allowed to see real women, un-retouched, in the flesh.
While I’m not sure I would have done this back in my 20s, when my body was banging but I was so insecure, this felt like exactly what I needed in midlife. It allowed me to start showing myself some long overdue compassion, as well as give myself permission to have fun with my body.
I’d been yearning for community, for a sense of belonging, and to be involved in creative projects with other women, but adding in the freedom that comes with being naked was something I had no idea I needed.
After the event, my self-confidence skyrocketed. I had the opportunity to commune with elders, women who had already gone through menopause, along with many other of life’s challenges, and come out the other side. I was reminded by all that my body has gone through; it made me grateful for my health and excited for all that is still to come.
I make jokes about the gathering because I’m a comedian and that’s what I do, but a group of powerful witches tapping into their power, getting naked, and helping one another heal is no laughing matter.
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