Yet again, I've deepened my understanding of healing and ceremony, in the months surrounding my hysterectomy on November 5th, 2024. Just after receiving the diagnosis in September, I opened a liminal space. I started working half time, and created lots of time for movement, creativity and ritual. I will share more about this in the months to come.

One of the big ceremonies I performed was at Samhain, when the veils between worlds are thin. On October 31st, just a few days before my surgery, I spent a night in a dolmen, to seek guidance and healing. This post takes you through the ceremony, focusing on the three phases of liminal space: the preparations, the transformational space and the return.

Place and Psyche

For this ceremony, I chose Dolmen de Bajouilière in Saint-Rémy-la-Varenne, in Northern France, a site I had discovered by chance the previous year on my local explorations. This well-preserved structure, with its spacious square divided into two rooms, felt inviting and safe for an overnight ritual.

Though I am accustomed to spending nights in neolithic monuments, mostly in the UK, I felt some hesitation, partly due to my intermediate French and unfamiliarity with the local spirits. Nevertheless, I recognised this resistance as part of the ego’s fear of the unknown, and I gave myself permission to go back home, any time I needed. If I would feel too vulnerable, it wouldn’t serve my body and spirit ahead of the surgery. Read on, and join me on my overnight Samhain Ceremony, full of deep imagery and transformation as I shed my womb three times… 

Arrival and Preparation

Arriving around 4 PM, I encountered a family with a dog leaving the site, and a man with dowsing rods mapping ley lines. After he departed, I introduced myself to the spirit of the site and the oak tree standing sentinel. I asked for permission to hold my ceremony for healing and preparation, feeling a peaceful welcome wrap around me. 

Setting up the sacred space involved both practical and intangible layers. I created an altar, invited my allies, and sang my Song of Power. The centerpiece was a womb of yellow shells from Brittany, along with a red Womb Bag I made during my ectopic pregnancy healing rituals and a handcrafted Sheela Na Gig figure. My intention was to give thanks for my life and the growth impulse brought by the fibroid rooted deep in my womb, ready to release what no longer served and open space for new energy.

Once the inner space was established, I moved outside and walked three sun-wise circles around the dolmen to demarcate the sacred space. Consecrating the circle with water, fire, and herbal smoke, I wove protection and intention into the night ahead. After brushing my teeth and preparing the fire, I gathered branches to light it at sundown. That night, I would shed my womb three times.

Dolmen, Oak and Fire

Into the Dream Time: Shedding my Womb Three Times

The first shedding occurred outside, just after lighting the ceremonial fire. I burned the pregnancy tests I had kept since my ectopic pregnancy five years earlier. Watching the tests dissolve felt like freeing the spirit child. I also burned the womb installation with the unborn paper foetus inside, and finally, the linen womb bag. This was the FIRST shedding of my womb.

After sitting by the fire and singing, I went inside the dolmen, sat at the left side of the inner entrance, with my back to the opening. As I meditated on the altar, a profound shift occurred. I felt my womb dissolving. Once the sensation faded, I rearranged the altar to reflect this, placing the shells in a large spiral. I had a strong feeling of flowing outward, connecting from single womb to entire universe, as well as back inward – the spiral always going in multiple directions. This was the SECOND shedding of my womb.

Womb Altar at the start

Womb Altar transformed into Spiral

Navigating the pitch-black dolmen on this moon-less night by touch and intuition, I felt held in a womb-like embrace. The night settled as I curled into my sleeping bag, leaving only a small breathing hole. Acorns lay on the floor, symbolizing potential and growth. As the candle burned low, shadows danced on the tomb’s ceiling, and time seemed to dissolve.

At some point, I felt the need to realign my body with the dolmen’s energy lines. I shifted until my head was beneath the altar, my hips at the inner chamber and my feet pointed to the exit. My spine seemed to flow in sync with the underground waterways, and my body expanded beyond the tomb. I felt formless, as though I received an imprint of the Goddess. 

Then, a neolithic medicine woman appeared. She performed psychic surgery, extracting dead energy from my abdomen and placing a bright, throbbing womb-heart into a bowl of liquid. This was the THIRD shedding of my womb. As she sang to my life force, a tree of light grew from this transformed womb-energy. It would need to find healthy roots outside my body, in open space for growth.

During this healing, an owl hooted mournfully outside. Then came a deep silence—no sounds from animals, wind, or water. I dreamed I looked in a mirror and saw my body, but my head was gone. The shock woke me, and I was disoriented. I turned onto my belly, feeling as if I sank into the earth, merging with rock and soil. It felt as if Eline had gone ‘offline,’ having died to ordinary life. I don’t know how long I stayed in this sacred posture, but it felt profound.

Womb Farewell. Integration Painting by Eline Kieft (2.9.12)

Return

In the twilight of re-awakening, more inspiration and images arrived. My path forward, the dance between land and body, was reaffirmed. I recognised the importance of in-between time—allowing ideas to germinate without rushing into action. Slowly, I began to emerge from the liminal space, unraveling the sacred space step by step.

I thanked the altar as the heart of the ceremony, visualising my path as though birthing myself into a new configuration. The dolmen had been both tomb and womb—a place to release the old, learn from the ancestors, and emerge renewed, ready for the next chapters of my life.

After the ceremony

Five days later, I underwent surgery, feeling that the neolithic shaman had already done much of the work. The operation and recovery went smoothly, and now, back at work, I continue to harvest the wisdom gifts of this extraordinary experience, and I wish for every midlife woman to have deep reflection and ceremonial time – although preferably without the need for medical intervention!

Please leave a comment below, or email me, if you are on a similar journey and like some support with your health, creating ceremonies of transition, or using art as a bridge between spirit and matter!

With love,

Eline

The small print...

• All images by Eline Kieft

• Here you can view other posts about Ceremonies I conducted in and outdoors.