My name is Katja, and I was born in South Tyrol in 1968. I was a very lively child, raised in a place where there was still the possibility to play all day in the fields outdoors, surrounded by a large group of siblings and cousins. I was fortunate to grow up in a big family where the roles of parents blended with those of aunts and uncles. Most of my cousins were boys, so I was quite the tomboy myself, with a slingshot and a blowgun tucked under the saddle of my BMX bike.
My relationships during school and leisure time were mostly with boys; I felt more comfortable with them as they spoke a language familiar to me. I was rebellious, stubborn, determined, and fairly independent, often solitary, and this was not a problem for them.
I loved, during my moments of rest, to sit in front of the television, listening to the harp playing while the screen stayed frozen on an antenna image, as broadcasts only started in the late afternoon. The sound of the harp brought me to a state of peace and quiet that I didn’t understand, but it hypnotized me.
Somewhere within me, there was a call to something more gentle emerging. There was a strong contrast between the noisy, very physical play and that which took me to dreamlike places of perception. I started studying music and singing; I took a few years of violin lessons. I really liked classical music, a high and pure vibration that nourished me.
With adolescence, everything became chaotic. In high school, I began to interact more with girls. It was a world that felt distant to me; it attracted me, yet I felt inadequate. I observed these relationships woven with superficial complicity, envies, and jealousies. I was naïve, perhaps ill-equipped and underprepared to understand such a complex world. Fascinated yet disoriented, I watched what motivated the group of “friends”; and wondered why they would steal each other’s boyfriends. For me, the male world continued to feel safer.
After finishing school, I could no longer stay enclosed between the mountains; they felt too constricting, so I sought my identity away from a family that was too rigid and strict, which prevented me from freely discovering who I was. At home, the feminine figure felt so marginal that it appeared nonexistent in my eyes; I was without a reference.
I began to travel and stayed away for long periods, trying to understand what gifts being unknown brought me, where no one had expectations, allowing me to reinvent myself, living freely, day by day, with just myself. Strong, beautiful experiences, sometimes very difficult, but enriching and indelible. I lived for a while in Germany and later wandered through a few Italian cities; Bologna, in particular, was a lot of fun. Then came the wonderful South America. The long period spent in the Andes left a special mark on me, which I would only understand twenty years later.
Upon returning to South Tyrol, I got married, and two wonderful sons were born, just as I had always wished. The feminine continued to remain a rather abstract world for me, despite the presence of good and dear friends who were functional to the transitions of life, raising children, and helping each other. I was not yet aware of what I was experiencing; I remained in an energy of ‘doing because it had to be
done—and done well!’ This was an inheritance of family teachings. I actually had the great fortune of being able to share and lighten the load and responsibility of the family. I learned the value of support, of always being there: “Don’t worry, go do your things, I’ll take care of your kids, tomorrow I’ll leave you mine”. It was normal and obvious that “today it’s me, tomorrow it’s you,” and we went on with an alpine outing, a coffee filled with stories and tears, the kids’ homework, and a husband who didn’t collaborate enough.
Although I was now an adult and a mother, I was unaware that I was already living the richness of a small circle, just as mothers and aunts did when they made jam together for everyone. But it wasn’t enough for me.
Was what I was experiencing really so obvious or trivial? Really so taken for granted? What would it have been like without it? I still couldn’t recognize its value.
When the children entered elementary school, I started working. It was essential for me that it be in an ethical and respectful sphere, so I entered the organic field. I attended courses and seminars on natural medicine, alternative healing techniques, and health. I enjoyed that world and completely immersed myself in it; it resonated with the same kind of energy as the sound of the harp I listened to as a child.
Both at work and in classes, I was mostly among women. Always somewhat on the fringes, I observed a constant: competition. At the same time, however, a small voice made itself increasingly known, emerging from my heart, saying that there was something important, even if I didn’t yet know what it was. I needed to know more about that feeling that arose when I was among women.
My perception and feelings changed radically as soon as I began attending seminars geared only toward women. A new world, an incredible world, an unmatched nourishment. I finally discovered that I am a Woman, and only after turning thirty did I buy my first skirt. Something was shifting within me; I was starting to feel truly comfortable in myself. What a strange and pleasant sensation it was to sit among women, to quench my thirst for knowledge, and to feel supported! Am I truly what I can manifest here, in this place? Is this Sisterhood? The distance between me and “the others” vanished upon meeting and sharing, and I felt a sense of wonder that my emotions and sensitivity were not childish feelings to repress, but were heard, welcomed, and, above all, understood! It didn’t matter what my level of maturity was; I was taken by the hand and guided. The older women, with great empathy, taught me what it means to feel from the womb, that subtle language that belongs only to the feminine.
Over the years, the circle and studies of women’s shamanism became my new home. A beautiful, welcoming, warm house—my house. I began to see that envy, rivalry, and competition among women are not what makes up “being a woman” but rather, behavioural manifestations of a deep wound that is essential to work on. With time, I became aware that it is precisely in circles that this wound is healed; it is in learning to be together, in sharing, in welcoming, and in confrontation. In the circle, one learns to be in suspension of judgment, and it is there that the true essence of the feminine manifests: a wonderful force that nourishes existence itself.
I’ve come a long way, receiving teachings over the span of thirty years from different mentors along various paths. All this richness has led me to understand one fundamental thing: it matters little how much knowledge we acquire; nothing has value without unity and respect for differences, they exist to be complementary and enriching.
Every step I took brought me to the heart. To the essence of Love. To loyalty, to transparent relationships, to spontaneous and sincere complicity.
Today, I live each day in search and reflection, to rediscover and nurture the value of a femininity that recognizes itself, that returns to itself, that dwells in its own heart. To share this feeling and contribute to sowing desire for the discovery of Sisterhood and with it, all its gifts for our spirits. I have chosen to bring a symbol into the world, the bracelet, which is indeed “just an object” but carries a great message: infinite facets, multitudes of expressions, roles, energies—daughter, mother, sister—it is simply and naturally Woman.
Because life is more beautiful in a circle!
Katja
