Dangerous Compassions

the womb room

fire like a womb

Hello, reader.  How are you doing?  Is your year ok so far?  I wrote a poem about a place I love called the Womb Room.  Maybe you’ve loved a place like this too.  Maybe you’re curious about powerful places and the energy they hold.

the womb room

did the mattress smell like cat pee?
yes, unfortunately.
did the walls pulse rhythmically?
did you have sex there?
was the light switch hard to find?
why was the doorway a beaded curtain?
poor choice became tradition.
did you trust the floor?
did you conceive there?
if so, i miscarried early.
do you wish you could return there?
part of me is there right now.


I first encountered the Womb Room on my first Sacred Peace Walk.  That was almost 13 years ago, the spring Ming and I fell in love.

The Womb Room was at the guest house of the Goddess Temple that became very important to my life.  I visited many times over the years thanks to the Sacred Peace Walk and Nevada Desert Experience.  Then Ming and I took retreats at the Goddess Temple during the seven years we lived in Las Vegas as Catholic Workers.

Yes, Priestess Candace Ross would make us tea.  We would rest, go for walks, sing, and care for ourselves and one another.  Usually we stayed in the Crone Room.  But we did stay in the Womb Room at least once.

Before, the guest house was a place only women were supposed to go, a women-only space for rest and renewal.  Ming remembers that–men stayed at the hotel in town.  Ming was considered a man at the time.

Then the hotel closed, and boundaries changed.  The guest house opened up to all genders of people.  But part of why I love the Womb Room is its different norms over time.


The Womb Room intrigued me.  Some people said it was creepy.  Yes, it was intense.  When I was in it, I had to think of my origins.  I thought of being a baby, sex, safety, and what I most need.

Is it ok, to want to return to the womb?  What was my womb up to?  The Womb Room made me address some ideas I might be avoiding.

The walls were red.  The Womb Room had a witchness even more than the rest of the place.  It had an altar and some musical instruments in the closet.  It was mostly dark there, and the beaded curtain was strange.  The style of witch was a little different from mine, but I loved it.

When I first went to the Goddess Temple, my life wasn’t full of witches.  Now half my friends are witches, and I can get advice on ritual, ask them to light a candle for me, and get tarot ideas on what the Fool plus the Moon means.  Or how the Empress and the Queen of Cups differ.

Yes, this life full of witches is what I need–I’m grateful the Goddess Temple and the Womb Room helped me get there.  Visionaries made an amazing place for us.  Many others refined that vision over the years.  Mistakes were made, food and hugs were shared, mice invaded the kitchen, and ritual was held many many times.  People came together and fell apart, as people do.


I’m glad we can join other lovers to resist the air force base across the street.  We need people who will speak up about how war is killing, and that’s not ok.  War is a scam of capitalism, and it’s damaging to Parent Earth.  I’ll say that and support you in saying it.

As we gather to do difficult work, we don’t need perfection.  But struggling toward justice is important.  I will make beans with lots of garlic.  I’ll bring the medicine you need from town.  Ming will tend to blisters and stand next to you on the road, steady as a rock, when the cops show up to flex their power and say “we just want to make sure everyone is safe.”

I’m glad people try new things and risk making mistakes by doing something different.  Ming was not a man, and I’m glad for trans progress.  The cat probably ate some mice, and I’m sorry it peed on the bed.


When Ming and I were homeless, the current stewards of that land said we could stay two weeks.  Then the community where we live now said yes to us; we packed up and headed north.  A snowstorm closed the freeway near Mt Shasta, but we made it.

A place of refuge is sacred, so are springs.  The Womb Room holds me in a strange way.  Thank you if you were part of that.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

3 replies on “the womb room”

WonderFuLL expressing of history and how the womb room offered some of it insights of sanctuary and refuge.
Blessings aLLways

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