It sounds as if it should be: get together for brunch every couple of weeks and really get to know each other. But, it's not. Not in DC, not in today's world, not in my experience. My circle is made of career women, one of whom is posted to Europe for the foreseeable future, two of whom are in government, one of whom is in associations, one of whom is raising young children and involved in education, one of whom is in law, and one of whom, now retired from the WH, is busier than any of us. Each of us has other interests: family, politics, gardening, writing, alternative sexuality, dance, bridge, tv scripts, blogging, life, that take up our time.
To meet on every Sabbat and on either the full or dark moon means 21 meetings a year. Add to that 12 meetings to just have brunch or coffee or whatever and get to know each other and you're at 33 meetings a year. That's almost 3 meetings a month. Not easy to find 3 times a month when our schedules can congeal. Sure, if you attended a "traditional" xian church, you'd go to church 52 times a year, and that's before you attended choir practice or the church council or taught Sunday school. So, on the one hand, what we ask is impossible. But, on the other hand, it's really not to much.
In the end, it comes down to whether or not the time spent is worth it. And, IMHO, that's the rub. It often takes six months, nine months, twenty-four months spent with a group of women before you "really" know whether or not it's worth it. When do you realize that it deepens the magic or that it wastes your time?
How do you decide when it's time to cut your losses and move on or time to stay and start investing for the long haul?
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."