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by Martha Llanos Zuloaga To travel is my passion, and I remember my first camping trip as a student at the Catholic University — an unforgettable month of community living in Cañete with students of different careers. It was an extraordinary experience, but I discovered I had weak ankles; I was always twisting my feet. So, I bought some hiking boots that provided solid support and became my go‑to shoes for adventures and faithful travel companions. Oh, if my shoes could talk, what stories they would tell! Every night I thanked my shoes and fell asleep with their unique observations of the routes I had traveled and the people I had met. My shoes adored Mother Earth; she was their most tender mother, always caressing them as I walked and giving them supportive pats… and so they climbed hills, scaled trees, crossed rivers, suspension bridges, winter and summer — and there they were, faithful boots, proudly showing the signs of time. One day in the Rajasthan desert in India, the sands were scorching hot and the landscape breathtakingly silent and solitary. I took off my shoes to feel the sand on my feet, but the heat was so intense it was like walking on hot coals, so I put them back on. It was a full‑moon night, and I was sleeping under the open sky in the desert, listening to the sound of the wind. My shoes spoke to me. They said, “Martha, we’ve walked quite a bit. We’re old and worn out. We’ve seen much of the world. We like this place. Why don’t you leave us at a sacred temple? We’re sure you will come back and will see us.” My shoes chose the Taj Mahal, a magnificent Hindu palace, a temple to love. And since you have to leave your shoes outside to visit, I said goodbye to them there. Corollary: There’s an ancient belief in India that where you leave your shoes, a part of you remains. Part of me stayed in multifaceted India, and I return many times, fulfilling a promise and remembering my first pilgrim shoes. Now it is 2019 — my last trip. It has been seven years already. Maybe it is now time to say again thank you to my beloved shoes and introduce to them my new travel companions — my cane.

written by Heather Plett and presented by Judith Hurley Prosser The talking piece isn’t magic, but “what IS magic is the way that it invites us to listen in ways we don’t normally listen and speak in ways we don’t normally speak.” When a talking piece goes around the circle, the person who holds it is invited to “speak with intention”. Everyone else is invited to “listen with attention” and not interrupt or ask questions. Everyone in the conversation is invited to “tend the well-being of the circle”. (Those are the three practices of The Circle Way.) A talking piece conversation has a unique quality to it. There is more listening, less interrupting, more pausing, and, almost always, more vulnerability than ordinary conversations. Yes, some people get nervous about the talking piece (because it puts them on the spot and feels like pressure to say something important), but when they get used to it, (and when they realize that anyone is welcome to pass the talking piece without speaking) almost everyone acknowledges that the talking piece brought something special into the space that they’ve rarely experienced before. The talking piece is not meant for every conversation, but I believe it should play a more significant role in many of our conversations. Here’s why: The talking piece invites us to listen much more than we talk. When in a circle with a dozen people, I have to listen twelve times as much as I talk. That’s a very good practice. Listening opens our hearts to other people’s stories. It invites our over-active minds and mouths to pause and be present for people who need to be witnessed. And when it’s our turn to talk, we know that we are being listened to just as intently. The talking piece encourages us to get out of “fix-it” mode. When a friend shares a problem with us, it usually feels more comfortable to jump in with a solution than to sit and really listen. But unless that friend has asked for advice, what she/he probably needs more than anything is a listening ear. The talking piece doesn’t allow us to interrupt with our version of “the truth”. Often, simply because they’ve been heard in a deeper way than they’re used to, people walk away from the circle having figured out their OWN solutions for their problems. The talking piece makes every voice equal. Nobody has the podium in a circle. Nobody stands on a stage. Each voice makes a valuable contribution to the conversation, and none is more important than the others. With so many race issues happening recently (especially in the U.S. and Canada), I like to imagine what might happen if more people were to sit in circle with people of different races. What if we mandated interracial circle conversations for every high school student? What if students couldn’t graduate unless they’d spent time learning to listen to stories told by people who are different from them? What if Dylan Roof, for example, had sat in a weekly circle listening to stories from the black community? Might that have changed the outcome of his attack on the Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in 2015, where 9 people died? The talking piece invites us more physically into the conversation. There’s something special about holding an object in your hand that has been passed there from hand to hand around the circle. It invites us to be present in not just our heads but in our bodies. It invites us to sink physically into the conversation, engaging in a deeper way because our hands are engaged along with our hearts. The talking pieces creates the silence into which open hearts dare to speak. There’s a level of vulnerability that shows up in the circle that is rarely present in other conversations. Because the talking piece invites us to slow down and be more intentional, we don’t just talk about the weather or yesterday’s shopping trip. We talk about things that are real and we show up authentically for each other. The talking piece can be used in all areas of your life. If you haven’t experienced it yet, don’t be afraid to try. Yes, you might get some funny looks from your family or friends when you pull out a stone, a stick, or even a pen and invite them to pass it around the circle, but there’s a very good chance – if they’re openhearted and authentic – that they will be surprised at what it brings to the conversation.

The skies are full. The air is thick. Electricity bounces off me and the air. I can feel her. Here in my heart. Memories bounce around….of fireworks, and friends. Dogs and kiddos. Harvesting in the garden – quick before the rains come! A day when everything flowed easily…. shopping – did you get those earrings?,.. or walking up the road – did you see that cool plant, what was that, we’ll have to look it up – sshhh, did you hear that? Is it a bear, is it a turkey, ?? quick let’s go! Jumping in the truck to go find the bears; climbing the rocky road – quick did you see them – there they are! It was a day like this when we saw three beautiful bear cubs. Or hiking up the road with all the animals, Abby the cat walking with us and the dogs. A view so far we could see into New Mexico. It was a day like this when we hiked together - before the rains came. Or driving around Taylor Ranch on the 4-wheeler…going places we probably shouldn’t have gone… but - did you see that?? it’s Dick’s dumping ground--- keep going…did you see that? quick stop – let me get it, that deer skull; look at that cool rock, we better get back, the rains are going to come--- did you see that huge mushroom? It was a day like this when we drove the property with Sadie the dog, and……… didn’t get home before the rains came. Or lounging in the hot tub one early spring morning…. sshhh, look, there’s a bear over there – quick, get down, don’t move!, oh wait, make noise--- oh wow, he’s going the other way, we must have scared him away – Yeah, we were almost lesbian soup! It was a day like this when we were naked in the hot tub. Or going to our friends’ house… did you bring the slippers? – I’ve got the food….laughing with friends; playing Mexican Train. Man, that Jackie, she always wins! unless of course, Don wins…standing on their porch looking across the way at the green covered mountain, waiting on the rains to come. It was a day like this when we laughed a lot with friends. Or splitting and stacking wood together…do you need help with that one? , nope, I’ve got it – watch out-- it’s gonna crack open! You’re sure a good stacker...Man, that bucket was the best thing we ever bought up here! I’m gonna go hop in. It was a day like this when we worked on wood together. Or driving around in the golf cart in Oregon…Max the 3-legged between us - quick, look up there, do you see the osprey’s nest? Give me the binocs, oh yeah there it is! I sure like being by the water here – yeah, except for the foghorn – yeah. We’ll have to get a sound machine. It was a day like this when we saw the osprey’s nest. On these kinds of days after all was done, we would sit together – on the couch, or in front of the fireplace, or in the rig, and we would turn and look in each other’s eyes, and she would say…. “This was a good day.” And I would agree: “Yeah….it was. It was a really good day.” A day of possibility.

Martha Llanos Zuloaga by Martha Llanos Zuloaga – GTW Perú I have just returned from the UN Session of the Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues. One session that was very significant for me was the one with the presence of Indigenous midwives from Latin America. Each representative shared her testimony about the current situation; of special interest were Brazil, Mexico, Chile, and others. The Continental Alliance of Traditional and Indigenous Midwives of the Americas bring together midwives, birth companions, and guardians of knowledge from Indigenous peoples across the continent to defend and strengthen traditional midwifery as a unique, living, and autonomous health system. Indigenous midwives are guardians of life, birth, and territory—bearers of knowledge that existed before nation‑states and continues to sustain the lives of their peoples. Their practice is not complementary, but an integral system of knowledge, science, and spirituality based on self‑determination. The Declaration that will be presented at the Permanent Forum affirms that birth is not only a medical act, but also a spiritual, territorial, and political act. In the 1970s, I met and shared experiences with Indigenous communities in the Peruvian highlands and rainforest. In the rainforest communities, when childbirth approaches, friends and family accompany the woman in labor to the river. There, standing with her legs firmly planted on the ground and bathed by the cool water, the new human being arrives in the world—refreshed by the waters and by the songs of a loving community welcoming them! If you are born in the highlands, like our ancestors, the birthing tradition remains vertical, with feet on the ground and squatting. I observed that a tall log is placed in front of the woman in labor so she can hold on tightly. And so, with her family, and especially her husband, the child arrives into the world. The place given to placentas in these communities is very important; they are considered living beings. Therefore, they should not be left behind or thrown away but buried in a special place—under the bed or in the forest. After the 1990s, I lived for a long time in Asia, and in India I witnessed the most beautiful births, in the land of Ayurvedic philosophy and medicine. Ayurveda, over five thousand years old, offers not only health, but also joy, well‑being, serenity, and secrets of eternal youth. For Ayurveda, life is the most wondrous event that nature has created, and woman is its main protagonist. Since it is a unique and unrepeatable moment, the couple prepares and, depending on their financial means, may even have a doula or a friend to assist them during pregnancy and childbirth. The most beautiful moment is the babies’ arrival, as they are massaged with rose or jasmine oils and welcomed with loving celebration. If we put ourselves in the children’s place in the so‑called “developed” countries, for nine months they moved peacefully in a paradise of water and silence, feeling protected, loved, and able—like dolphins—to express themselves freely in that space. Their state was brimming with possibilities, their needs met by that liquid, timeless, maternal, and boundless world. Let us visualize the birth scene… The child feels that the time has come to leave and look toward new horizons. He or she prepares for the entrance into the world. How curious—what will be there? What awaits them at the end of the tunnel? They are in a hospital room or an operating room. And oh… bright lights appear. The arrival almost blinds them. Hands take the newborn and—wham!—the flow connected to the warm water is gone. They are lifted by the feet and slapped on the bottom, which makes the newborn cry. The result: a frightening welcome. Where have I ended up, surrounded by masked figures? After the initial shock, soft skin appears, a gentle energy, and the newborn finds the mother there—sometimes the father—who joins in welcoming. This scene seems to reflect the first fears and feelings of abandonment that take root in our subconscious. Corollary In line with my life’s mission, I work for the rights of human beings to celebrate life, the biocentric principle, and bioethics. One of the first rights of a child should be to have a birth that is a celebration of their arrival into the world. How wise were the so‑called primitive cultures, where birth is a natural event; the child is bathed, sung to, caressed with oils, and all of nature joins in the celebration. Reflect on this in our developed world, where birth is a surgical procedure. So much knowledge and wisdom exist in this welcoming to the world. However, strong medical approaches are still prioritized over the sacred act of bringing a child into this world. Lots of praise to the wisdom and loving approach of the traditional midwives. So I ask: what memories do you hold of your own birth?

Nancy Busey by Nancy Busey Let’s talk about the role of the guardian. What exactly are guardians, what do they do, and what is their relationship to the host? Together, let’s use the metaphor of a campfire to describe the difference between the host’s and guardian’s roles. The host’s job is to put logs on the fire, keeping us warm. The guardian’s job is to make sure that nobody around the circle gets so close to the fire that they get burned. In an untended circle, someone might not feel respected. Someone else might take up all the oxygen in the room. Another might not feel heard. The guardian’s role is to make sure that these things do not happen. The host is not responsible for controlling the process as much as they are responsible for creating a safe space for the participants to engage in the process. The entire group is responsible for holding the circle: the host is there to make sure the process is safe and to maintain the general tenor of the circle process, as well as contributing their own thoughts and ideas. While the host may take on the role of the guardian, it is often helpful to have a separate individual in this role. Guardians pay attention to all the subtle energetic movements of everyone in the circle to ensure the safety of participants. The guardian has the group’s permission to interrupt and intercede in a circle process: to call for a pause, using a gentle noise-maker, such as a chime, bell or rattle, that signals to everyone to stop action, take a breath, and rest in a space of silence. As the guardian invites us into silence, those in the circle can re-balance, return to their bodies, re-center, and self-regulate. Guardians keep the fire from getting too hot, but they also notice the moment when “we lean into shared purpose,” when the warmth of the circle’s wisdom emerges, and no one wants to leave the campfire. Guardians pay attention to what has been spoken out loud, but they also notice what has not been voiced. They are aware of who has spoken and sense into the voice of the voiceless. Noticing and sensing are practices of presence and compassion, rather than analysis or judgement. Guardians can ring the bell to celebrate a milestone, acknowledge deep grief, or revel in a moment of self-compassion. Anyone may ask the guardian or host to use the sounding device for a pause. Then after the 15 - 30 second pause, the person requesting the pause should explain the reason. An example: “Let’s consider this moment to bring us back to center.” Although in any given circle, the guardian may not need to say much, the role is just as important as the host’s. Circles resonate when host and guardian work collaboratively, attuning to each other to create a safe container for both individual circle members and the circle as a whole. Circle processes are powerful tools. In the current climate of polarization and cancel culture, bringing people together in a circle, a powerful modality throughout human existence, holds the promise of transformation. This is Gather the Women Global Matrix.

Martha Llanos by Martha Llanos Zuloaga, Peru I describe myself as a Peace Ambassador. My life mission is of global service to children, women, and families. Thanks to the understanding, compassion, appreciation, and courage that I have experienced in Circle with other women, I have been able to fulfill that mission. This support enabled me to advocate and take action for women’s rights in a world that shows violence towards women and girl children, especially when they are indigenous, poor, and illiterate. Circles focus on the principles of Inclusion, Wholeness, Unity, Nurturing, Centering, Sharing, Deep listening, and Completion. To Indigenous peoples, the Circle illustrates “the way the world works.” Since my childhood, Circles have been very meaningful. I recall myself seated on the floor listening to stories told by my teachers. Mythology, gods, and goddesses fascinated me. In my adulthood, I have continued in Circles with Indian communities sitting around the fire and sharing stories of their everyday life. This time, the gods and goddesses are real human beings. In Peru in the 80s I was working in the Andean area of Cuzco, Puno, and Apurimac. There, with many teachers and mothers, we created Tarpuy Circles. “Tarpuy” is a Quechua word meaning to sow and our lema (motto) was “The seed that you sow today will be tomorrow’s harvest.” Around 2000, I was happy to connect with Peace x Peace and share my reflections about the ripple effect we get in Circles. It is produced from the self to the Circle, first ripple, then to the community context, second ripple, and finally to global consciousness. 2002 was an exceptional year. I received an invitation to participate in a Circle of women from around the world in Iona, Scotland. Jean Shinoda Bolen, Elinor Detinger, Kate Collins, and others were also included. In Iona, I discovered the power within us women to share the joy, the pain, and the dreams of many generations and to work collectively for equity, peace, solidarity, and the fulfillment of rights. I came to realize that the sacred is always there in the Circle and that we can call on it in any different situation On Iona, every morning I would go alone to meditate in the XIII century abbey. There in the silence of this sacred place, I would dance and dance. The room seemed to be filled with the inner music of ancestors buried there. The inner music, the joy and my breathing were tributes to life. At the end, when I closed my eyes, I would see myself with many children, girls and women in a circle. In Deep Silence a great message “La grandeza humana tiene rostro de mujer,” “Human greatness has a woman’s face,” came to me. My mission in life was then reassured. I was encouraged to facilitate people to discover and unfold their many potentials and share their lives. After all these years, I am reflecting on the power of Circles, on the value of feminine principles with the internal drive to “love, nourish, care, and connect.” These qualities are essential for global peace and environmental sustainability. They help us shift away from patriarchal power structures toward collaborative, empathetic, and inclusive, humane leadership. In 2022, I started to contribute to University Women Observatory. This is a division of the Women’s University of the Sacred Heart (UNIFÉ) in Lima, Peru. I was writing about worldwide resilient women’s lives under the lema (motto) “Human greatness has a woman’s face”. Stories for 80 women have been completed. As a synchronicity, while preparing the exhibition for inauguration of the 2024 academic year, Gather the Women appeared. Dawn Gandalf invited me to participate. Now here I am in a circle with the central fire that comes from the elders whose lives are such an inspiration. Every day testimony reinforces the strength of the collective and us “Women as Weavers of Peace”. We are woven together to create a tapestry strong enough to fulfill Jean Shinoda Bolen’s vision, Gather the Women and Save the World.