Birth Keepers of a New World

We are living in a time of deep transition.

As a human species, we are being stretched open. Many of us feel the tremors in our bones—even when we cannot yet name the source. Like the body of a woman in labor, the collective body is contracting. Not once, but in waves. Each one asking us to breathe deeper, to surrender more fully, to remember what we are truly made of.

And just like in birth, the contractions often come before the clarity.

We are being invited—no, urged—to return to the core of what truly matters. In the midst of chaos, of societal unraveling, of systems collapsing, we stand on a threshold. Some of us are doulas in the literal sense, midwifing new life into the world through flesh and womb. Others of us are doulas of vision, of voice, of creativity. What we all share is this: a sacred call to hold space for something that is waiting to be born.

To be a birth keeper is to be a listener. A witness. A weaver.

It is to feel the pulse of life, death, and rebirth not only as concepts, but as lived experiences—in our bodies, in our art, in our hearts. As women, as creators, as humans walking the spiral path, we go through many thresholds. The small ones: endings of friendships, closing of projects, cycles of rest. The big ones: birth, death, loss, becoming.

And every threshold asks something of us.

It asks us to stay present even when it hurts. To lean in when it would be easier to flee. To ground ourselves in something older, wiser—beyond the noise. This is the sacred labor of remembrance. And just like in birth, it is not clean, or linear, or perfect. It is raw, wild, and full of mystery.

"Your voice matters

Your movement aligns

Your integrity can lift the world

So allow for your expression to pour out."

— Caroline S’Jegers

The feminine way—so often misunderstood or forgotten—is not about fixing. It is about feeling. About allowing ourselves to become the vessel through which life flows. The doula does not push the baby out. She holds. She breathes. She trusts the process. She reminds the birthing one of their own strength when they have forgotten.

In this time, we are all being asked to become doulas of change.

Some of us hold space through song, through movement, through words. Others through stillness, or touch, or quiet presence. My own tools—dance, music and poetry—have always been companions on this path. They guide me back to essence. They remind me of the wisdom in my hips, the rhythm of my heartbeat, the stories stored in my voice. They connect me back to the tribal drum, to the earth beneath my feet, to all that is sacred and true.

They help me remember.

And it is through this remembrance that I find the courage to keep holding. For myself. For others. For the new world that is already whispering her songs into our dreams.

A birth keeper is not separate from life. She is in it. She dances with the blood, the pain, the joy, the unknown. She holds the mirror up and says, “You are ready. Even now. Especially now.”

So with a gentle and humble heart, I am learning to hold space—again and again. For myself. For my children. For the women and men dancing through their own initiations. I believe that when we truly listen, something ancient returns. When we place life, death and rebirth in the center of our altar, we begin to live in alignment with something far greater than ourselves.

We begin to birth the world we have always longed for.

One that honors the full cycle. One that trusts the dark just as much as the light. One where we lift each other through the sacred act of witnessing, instead of striving. One where creativity is not a performance, but a prayer.`

And so, I share this work not because I have the answers—but because I have walked through many thresholds and keep finding more. Because I trust in the power of creative expression as a path to truth. Because I believe we are all keepers of the new earth.

Let us dance. Let us bleed. Let us sing.

Let us fall apart and come back together.

Let us meet in the real and the raw.

Let us birth what’s next—together.

With warmth, reverence, and a steady drumbeat of trust,

Caroline S’Jegers

🧡🙏

P.S.: I was interviewed by two powerful women—Manon-Celine & Caroline Carey—on the themes of birth, death, soul purpose, challenge, and motherhood. You can listen to these rich conversations via the links below.