Ostara, a prelude

A few years ago, a friend invited me to a gathering her sister was organising. It was a wonderfully random mix of women, brought together through loose connections.  Some knew each other, many had never met before. A village hall had been hired, and we were invited to spend two nights together with a simple agreement: contribute what you could and arrive open to the shared experience.

By the time the weekend came around, my stress levels were at an all-time high. I was deep in grief after losing my mum. At work, we were facing service closures and job losses. I had sold my house and was in the middle of packing and navigating the endless admin that comes with a complicated chain. All of this was happening alongside the normal demands of life with two young children.

Honestly, I almost didn’t go.

On the day we were meant to leave, my friend coaxed me along. I sat in the back seat of the car barely able to speak. My nervous system felt frozen, overwhelmed, shut down.  I felt unable to engage with the world around me. My friends were patient.  They reassured me that coming along would be good for me.

They were right. It turned out to be exactly what I needed.

The hall itself was a sensory delight. Nestled in the beautiful Yorkshire countryside, blanketed in snow, the space inside was warm and soothing - soft music, gentle lighting, incense and essential oils drifting through the air. Every woman I met that weekend was open-hearted and kind. We came from diverse backgrounds but shared one powerful thing in common: a genuine openness to connection.

We cooked together, shared food, and shaped the flow of the weekend collaboratively. Women offered their gifts and talents freely - reiki, head massages, tarot readings, mediumship. There was dancing, wild swimming, a women’s circle. Laughter and quiet moments, side by side.

Most importantly, we were surrounded by like-minded women who found themselves able to truly relax and be present, something our everyday lives don't always allow. No one needed anything from us. No one demanded anything of us. We were accepted as we were and understood. It was a deeply safe space, free from expectations, where everyone could simply be.

You could almost feel the collective sigh of our nervous systems.

Slowly, I felt myself soften. My body relaxed. My mind cleared. Nothing in my external world had changed. My responsibilities, grief, life’s challenges were still there - but I felt restored. I felt capable again. My cup had been filled.

I left that weekend feeling deeply grateful but also awakened to something important. The combination of women gathering together, holistic wellness practices, and a calm, nurturing environment felt genuinely magical to me. It made a tangible difference to my wellbeing.

And that’s what planted the seed for Ostara.

What I experienced that weekend is what I’ve always wanted to create: spaces where women can rest, reconnect, regulate their nervous systems, and remember who they are beneath the noise of everyday life. Spaces where healing happens naturally through safety, community, and care.

Sometimes, all it takes is the right environment, the right people, and permission to simply be.