The Thread Was Broken — But We Are the Ones Who Weave It Back
Honouring Friday the 13th, the forgotten holy day of the feminine
There used to be a thread.
A golden, gritty, womb-warmed thread
that once ran from woman to woman,
from elder to child,
from voice to voice around the hearth fire.
It wasn’t written in books.
It was passed in whispers,
in herbs and hands and held glances.
It was ritual. It was rhythm.
It was remembering.
And then it broke.
War, disconnection, patriarchy, silence —
the very things that pulled us from the land,
pulled us from each other too.
Our mothers didn’t pass it on — not because they didn’t love us,
but because nobody passed it to them.
They were told to keep quiet.
To stay small.
To stay pretty.
To just get on with it.
And so here we are —
women in the middle.
Trying to mother ourselves.
Trying to remember what we never got to learn.
Trying to restore a lineage that was never lost — just sleeping.
And today… is Friday the 13th.
The world has told us this is a cursed day.
A day of superstition. A day of bad luck.
But that’s not the truth.
Friday is named after Freya — the Norse goddess of love, fertility, sex, and sacred power.
And the number 13? That is the number of lunar cycles in a year, the number of times a woman bleeds, the rhythm of the womb.
Friday the 13th was once a holy day for women.
A time to gather, to bleed, to honour the Earth, the body, the mystery.
A time to remember that the feminine is not to be feared — but revered.
So when they told us this day was unlucky?
They were really just afraid.
Afraid of the women who bleed in rhythm.
Afraid of the circles.
Afraid of the wild.
Afraid of the wise.
But we remember. And we restore.
Today, we choose to remember.
We remember that the lineage lives on in us.
We remember that our wisdom didn’t die — it went underground.
We remember that ritual, storytelling, and soul connection are not luxuries — they are the medicine.
We remember that while the thread may have been broken…
we are the ones who get to reweave it.
When we gather in circle,
when we listen instead of fix,
when we honour our bleed,
when we light the candle and call in our grandmothers’ names —
we are restoring the village.
We are becoming the women we never had.
And we’re not doing it alone anymore.
So today I ask you…
Where does the thread feel lost in you?
Where do you long for a mother, a sister, a wise one?
And what would it feel like to stop searching — and begin weaving?
The line is not gone.
It is waiting.
In the roots.
In the bones.
In the sound of your own voice when you speak from your soul.
And you, sister —
you are not too late.
You are right on time.
Come be the thread with us.
✨ Listen to this week’s Around the Kitchen Table podcast episode:
“Friday the 13th & The Broken Lineage — Reclaiming the Thread of the Feminine”
✨ Come join the Sacred Sister Sanctuary —
where we’re not just healing ourselves,
we’re reweaving the sacred.
✨ Or gather in person this summer at our Sacred Sister Gathering —
because this work is not meant to be done alone.
We restore the lineage together.
