I share their sacred words with you asking that you listen to them, to their beliefs. If the concept woman-born-woman offends your modern beliefs, then I suggest you read no further. My native grandmothers would laugh at your gender claims. And one or two of them would (metaphorically) "smack you silly" for claiming to know their beliefs about men and women, male and female.

"We study peace," grandmother Twylah tells us one evening by the fire. "We are The Great Peaceful Nations." It was usual for her to teach us about the ways of peace at every opportunity, from our morning meal until we went to bed.

"Women hold the peace. When women lead, peace predominates. We follow matrilineal lines, mother lines. We are matrifocal, putting women at the center of the wheel of life," she continued, eyes shining with delight.

I first met matrilineal when I was at customs in Israel.

The agent asked me: "Are you Jewish?"

"Yes," I claimed. "I am Jewish; my father is Jewish."

I assumed patrilineal privilege.

"And your mother?" he wanted to know.

"She is Catholic," I answered, wondering why he was asking.

"Then you are NOT Jewish," he proclaimed, stamping my passport with a special stamp.

"You are only Jewish if your mother is."

I had no idea there was a mother line, never knew of matrilineal cultures.

We know who our mother is; we are born from her body.

Paternity is not so obvious.

There is a song I received during my times in Jamaica. It's a song designed to go on all night. A young woman tells her dad that she's in love. She says she's going to marry — a man's name is inserted, a man in the group listening to the song.

"You can't marry him," dad tells her.

"I'm his father; he's your brother."

The daughter tries again, with a new love, another man.

Again, her dad tells her: "You can't marry him. I'm his father; he's your brother."

This continues until every man in the group has been named.

And dad has proclaimed his paternity.

At last, desperate, our maiden goes to her mom.

In tears, she sobs: "Every boy is my brother! Who shall I marry?"

"Don't worry dear," mother soothes.

"Marry whomever you love. None of them are your brothers. He's not your dad."

We know who our mother is; we are born from her body.

Z Budapest leads a matrilineal ritual that is simple but stunning, short but heart-swelling.

You can join the ritual. Right now.

Imagine or remember yourself standing in a circle of women born women.

It is your turn to speak.

You say: "I am (your name), daughter of (your mother's name), daughter of (your grandmother's name), daughter of (your great grandmother's name), daughter of . . ."

Go as far back as you have names for your matriline.

Feel the presence of your mother line.

Then listen as this naming goes around the circle.

Listen to the women as they name themselves. Allow a sister feeling to arise.

Hear the names of the mothers as they are given. We all come from the mother.

Receive the names of the grandmothers. Relax into their love.

The great grandmothers hold you. The spiral of the mother line embraces all of life.

Be at peace.

I breathe in peace with the plants, a great giveaway dance of gratitude.

I walk in peace; beauty surrounds me.

My heartbeat is the steady, peaceful beat of the Mother's heart. I am her daughter.

Green blessings feed peace. Feel the love.