Dear Matriarchs and Matriarchs in the Making,

Today I’m reflecting on the sacred work of bridge building—our capacity to reach across divides, to heal what has been separated, and to stand together in solidarity.

This work exists on many layers. It begins in the micro-ecology of our lives: within our families, friendships, partnerships, and communities, and in our relationship with the land itself. But it also unfolds on the macro scale, across nations and cultures, where we see the same patterns of tension, harm, and the longing for repair repeating themselves across the globe.

No matter the scale, bridge building begins within. It starts with the quiet work of self-forgiveness and self-compassion—the courage to face our own stories and make peace with them. Only from that place can we move into relationship with others in a way that is humble, accountable, and kind.

Repair, though, has its own timing. It cannot be forced. It asks for readiness, willingness, and consent from all involved. Sometimes we find resolution quickly; other times we wait years—or a lifetime. Learning to live without closure, to sit with grief and discomfort, is its own form of maturity and wisdom.

This week, I was reminded of this truth twice. Once while witnessing the luminous voices of Lisa G. Littlebird and her Wholehearted Choir here on the Monterey Peninsula—an offering of harmony born from deep listening. And again while hearing Louise Dunlap speak about the power of feeling our grief as a step toward collective healing. Both women embody what bridge building looks like in practice: courage, tenderness, and a steadfast willingness to meet what is real.

Later, while reflecting on my own process, I remembered a note still taped to my bathroom mirror—a little list titled “How to Be an Adult.” I wish I could credit the author. It reads:

1. Take responsibility for your actions.

2. Allow yourself to feel remorse, guilt, and grief.

3. Offer a sincere apology and make amends.

4. Learn from the experience and move on.

When I read it again, I smiled. So much of my journey in learning to bridge divides—within myself and with others—has been about learning not to run from shame, but to walk through it with compassion. I am profoundly grateful to the teachers and friends who’ve helped me grow that capacity.

And this brings me back to solidarity—the place where the inner and outer work meet.

Bridge building is not only about forgiveness and repair; it is also about choosing to stand with one another. It’s about weaving threads of care that hold us through change, loss, and transformation. Every act of bridging—whether it’s mending a family bond, showing up for a friend, or working for justice—adds another thread to the collective fabric of belonging.

That is the spirit behind the Solidarity Scarves Project which launched on November 1st. Each scarf represents connection—a visible, tangible reminder that even when the world feels frayed, we can weave something beautiful together. These scarves are not just garments; they are gestures of bridge building, solidarity, and commitments to community care.

If you feel called, I invite you to join this growing circle of matriarchs and matriarchs in the making. Create or wear a Solidarity Scarf as a way of saying: I am here for the work of bridging in the name of solidarity. Whether through weaving, stitching, gifting, or simply wearing your scarf with intention, you become part of a larger story—one where compassion, courage, and connection are the threads that hold us. For more on this special project with Turtle Women Rising, and how to join in with us, click here.

May we continue this work together—with humility, grace, and fierce love.

With warmth and gratitude,

Maija