What if your next idea, your next purpose, isn’t a plan—but a whisper? A song? A promise to your sisters?

Good evening, everyone.
Welcome to the soft, candlelit close of January. This is Volga, and I’d like to share something very personal with you tonight—a story from the heart.

It happened about four years ago, on a summer evening. I was driving from Massachusetts to New York. The sky was still blue. The light was soft. The fields rolled beside me in a peaceful rhythm.

I was in a beautiful, calm mood.

And then it happened.

A voice.
From somewhere inside—yet completely outside of my usual thinking. It grabbed my attention. Strong. Clear. Unmistakable.

I pulled over to a rest area. Sat down on a bench. Closed my eyes. Listened.

The message was this:
Women today are beginning to remember. Their powers are being reawakened.
And before this full awakening unfolds, we must agree—deeply, clearly—on something essential.

Something simple:
“I will not harm my sister.”

And what does that mean? To truly promise that, we must ask:
What hurts her? What feels like harm to her heart, her body, her spirit?
This is not just about kindness. It’s about responsibility—about becoming stewards of our own sacred power.

Because we’ve done this before.
There is a history—of medicine women, witches, wise ones—practicing without agreement, without alignment, without consciousness. And we paid the price. We were burned. Broken. Lost.

This voice said:

To avoid repeating that pain, we must talk about sisterhood. We must agree on how we will walk together—before our magic awakens fully again.

A Song Was Born

I returned to my car, still in that space of listening. I didn’t try to process it. I just let the message land. And then, almost without thinking, I began to hum.

A melody came through.
Words began forming.
And a song was born.

Later, I named it “13 Wounds.”
It became a song for sisters. For sacred sisterhood. A song to remind us of both our scars and our power.

When I got home, I shared the message and the song with a few close women. I brought it into our new moon circles at the Nest. And while it wasn’t yet clear what the next step was, something had begun.

The Full Moon Vision and Shadow Work

Two years later, the song completed itself.
And then, another vision arrived: full moon ceremonies dedicated to sisterhood and shadow work.

What if we could look at our shadows together—without shame?
What if we could hold space for each other as we face our fears, our stories, our skeletons?
Not to fix each other—but to witness and support.

We began experimenting—with this vision, this practice, this possibility. At the Nest. In other gatherings. It became a living field.

The Sisterhood Manifesto (An Open Invitation)

This vision is still growing.
The Sisterhood Manifesto hasn’t been written yet.
But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe it’s not mine to write alone.
Maybe it’s something we write together—an open-source, global, feminine, fluid document that holds the values and vows of a reawakened circle of women.

Something wise.
Something poetic.
Something powerful.
Something imperfect and real.

A living prayer for how we walk together into this next cycle of remembering.

A Call to Co-Create

I invite you to help shape this.
To add your voice.
To help write this Sisterhood Manifesto—whatever form it takes.

Let it be a fire we tend together.
Let it guide how we hold our circles, our drums, our grief, our praise.
Let it shape how we speak, how we serve, how we show up.

This is how we become Mother Earth’s voice, in action.
Rooted. Nourishing. Fierce. Feminine. Wise.

Flow. Listen. Respond.
And walk with your sisters.