Gathering With Creative Women

There is a particular energy that rises when women gather with intention.

It is not loud.
It is not performative.
It hums.

This past week, seven of us from The Turquoise Iris Journal met in the Brentwood and Franklin area of Tennessee for our annual in-person mastermind and retreat.

This was my first time attending, and I was really looking forward to seeing everyone.

Some of these women I had only known through screens and shared documents. Others I have known for years. Yet the moment we walked into the same room, it felt less like introductions and more like recognition.

We came to work.
We came to dream.
We came to deepen.

And we did all three.

The Sacred Work of Women in Conversation

We often underestimate what happens in a room where women are both safe and ambitious.

We planned editorial calendars.
We discussed content strategy.
We mapped upcoming issues.
We shared business wins and honest frustrations.

But between brainstorming sessions, something far more important unfolded.

We listened to each other.

Not listening to answer.
Listening with your whole body … breath steady, posture open, fully present.

When women gather this way, walls lower without anyone announcing it. Stories come forward that would never appear in a public post. Vulnerabilities surface. Dreams are spoken aloud that have only been whispered in journals. And the tears and the hugs. The realization that we have more in common than we are different.

It becomes more than a mastermind.

It becomes a remembering.

From Online to In Person: The Gift of Embodied Friendship

There is something sacred about moving from pixels to presence.

To hug someone you’ve only seen in squares on a screen.
To hear laughter without a speaker.
To notice the way someone gestures when she talks about what she loves.

Friendship shifts when it becomes embodied.

You realize that the woman whose writing moves you also drinks her coffee slowly. That the one who speaks boldly in meetings also tears up when she talks about her unfulfilled dreams and expectations. That strength and tenderness coexist in ways that are impossible to capture fully online.

We cooked together.
We walked.
We shared meals around a table that held laughter and our stories.

Work and play were not separate categories. They braided together naturally.

And that, to me, is the beauty of women who build things together.

A gift from my friend BJ. She gave us each one. They were choosen for the word that she felt captured our gifts.

The Creative Current

Something else happens when women gather around shared creativity.

Ideas multiply.

One sentence spoken across the table becomes a theme.
One vulnerable story becomes … a reminder of our similarities.
One wild idea becomes a future event.

Creative energy is contagious in the best way.

There were moments when I looked around the room and felt the quiet awe of it all. These women are not just contributors to a journal. They are artists. Writers. Wives. Mothers. Business owners. Leaders. Dreamers.

They are beautiful.

Each one carries her own story.

And when those stories sit together at one table, something larger forms.

A current.
A collective intelligence.
A shared momentum.

Sound as the Thread That Settled Us

One of the greatest honors for me during our time together was introducing these women to sound therapy through two early morning sessions.

Before the planning.
Before the brainstorming began.

We gathered in quiet.

The bowls were placed in the front, and centered in the room. The tones rose slowly, gently filling the space we had already filled with conversation the night before.

And something shifted.

The mind softened.
The nervous system exhaled.
The room felt held.

It was deeply meaningful for me to share this part of my work with women who know me primarily as a writer and curator. To let them experience the frequency beneath the words. The stillness beneath the strategy. For me to facilitate this beautiful gift of sound.

Sound does something conversation cannot.

It bypasses explanation.
It settles what is stirred.
It integrates what has been spoken.

By the second morning session, I could feel the difference in the room. The ideas flowed with less strain. The collaboration felt more grounded. There was spaciousness around our ambition.

To witness these women receive that experience, to see their shoulders drop and their faces soften, hear them exhale, see their tears … felt like weaving another layer into our friendship.

Not just intellectual support.
Not just creative partnership.
But nervous system safety.

And that matters more than we often acknowledge.

Support Without Competition

There is an old narrative that says women compete.

That narrative did not enter the room.

What entered instead was celebration.

When one shared a win, we all felt it.
When one voiced a fear, we leaned closer, not away.
When one needed clarity, the others offered perspective without ego.

This is what healthy female friendship looks like:

• Honest feedback delivered with care
• Celebration without comparison
• Space to grow without shrinking
• Accountability without shame

It is powerful to be surrounded by women who are building businesses, writing books, creating art, leading communities … and who still choose softness with each other.

In a world that often asks women to armor up, we practiced something else.

We practiced trust.

Why Women’s Friendships Matter

On the ride home, I found myself reflecting on how essential this kind of gathering is.

Women’s friendships are not extra.
They are not indulgent.
They are not optional.

They are stabilizing.

They remind us who we are when we forget.
They hold our vision steady when we wobble.
They mirror back our growth.
They gently call us higher.

They are necessary.

For me, friendships like this feel ancient. Circles around fires. Stories shared under open skies. Wisdom passed through conversation and shared bread.

We may now meet in rented homes, but the essence remains the same.

Connection.
Support.
Witnessing.

What I Am Carrying Forward

I came home with notes, plans, and even more excitement for what is next.

But I also came home with something far less measurable.

Gratitude.

For women who show up.
For conversations that reflected, “I see you.”
For laughter that heals without announcing itself.
For mornings wrapped in resonance and shared stillness.
For friendships rooted not in convenience, but in shared becoming.

There is something deeply strengthening about knowing you are not building alone.

And perhaps that is the greatest gift of women gathering.

Not just the work accomplished.
Not just the strategy refined.
But the harmony created when women choose to support one another in both voice and silence.