HOMAGE TO W.I.N. | The Female Grail with Durga Holzhauser


Every woman shall write history with her personal story.

October 6, 2012 :: We spent the day with 1000 other women at W.I.N., the Women’s International Networking Conference. Me, full of excitement after my first big talk about spirituality among collaborating women. My devotion. My blood. Kissing the mic. We need this conversation with the global business world, I told them all. I spoke boldly. We all win when we network and weave together our promises to create change.

Thefemalegrail.com is one year old. One year ago I wrote:

Whenever we enter a new stage in our life, we die and are reborn at the same time. Finding one’s own sacred voice is another rebirth, one of millions whenever a new era starts.

I rebirthed myself – this time live and on stage. I said, “I want to be enlightened,” while a thousand women listened.

My new passion: Enter uncommon spaces and start a conversation that has never been held there before.

Speak your desire out loud. Bold speakers are the new cool.

My love letters

At W.I.N. I met women from Africa. I met women from India. I met women from Europe. I met women from the USA. I met women from all over the world. In meeting and hearing from these women, I rededicated myself then and now to listening even more carefully to the planet and her 7 billion habitants.

My letters today are to women I admire.

My mind is openness.

The world is bigger than we think she is.

To Marguerite Barankitse:

In the photos you look undated, beautiful, uplifted, self-confident, vivante.

When I met you, you said: “Without spirituality we do not exist.” We hugged like sisters, at the first touch.

At an age when other women cuddle their children, you witnessed hell. You were forced to watch as 70 friends were brutally killed.

Who can believe the unspeakable; who will believe the unthinkable.

You have seen Death, and he granted you dignity.

I will never forget the words that you used to invite us to your Africa and her women.

You do not ask for pity. You ask for being seen. You ask for forgetting titles. Africa has given birth to a Saint from heaven. I believe in your bravery and your Maison Shalom: a peaceful realm for children’s souls.

Maggy, you changed my heart.

You changed my life more than you will ever know.

To Kristin Engvig:

Tell us how visions are born. Tell us how they come true.

18 years ago at a conference in Mexico you dreamt of a women’s conference. Today women join in from all continents and you meet them head-on. They have to meet your bold new visions. You dare. You open conversations about values and sustainability among cooperating worlds. Since 2012, spirituality and wildness have opened Pandora’s box. We admire you for this.

Tell us, how did you feel when you breastfed your infant son during the breaks of the conference you were leading? You are a new generation. You will let us know how it works to raise your child and your own success in tandem. Your W.I.N baby has gone global now, cultivated with curiosity and new paths for this planet.

Upon our first meeting, we both understood that we already know each other.

Today we know we made an appointment in heaven.

Our dreams are real.

To Karen Tse:

You must be an incarnated Buddha. You walk into the worst prisons of this world with your elegant pocket dress, swinging your chic handbag. Your charm is a powerful weapon to fight for those who have neither rights nor resources for a lawyer.

You started a war. In many countries torture is still an accepted way to coerce confessions and punish. Children are tortured for stealing a bicycle in Bangladesh; women pay for their husbands’ transgressions. Your war works to end that.

I pray that yours will win amongst the 10 chosen TED talks and millions of dollars will flood in, filling up the loose ends for International Bridges to Justice. May your warriors have all the support they need for their fight.

If not, I love your “No, I do not have the money” attitude. You will win at the end, even without money.

You won me over when you bumped into me 8 years ago and spoke to me fast, passionately, for 5 full minutes till you paused and asked: “By the way, who are you?” Your dream is mine too.

My friend, you moved me to tears when you arrived from Asia to get up at 4 a.m. to be there when I gave my first talk to a big audience.

The stage is yours now. May you win.


To Seema Kohli:

My soul stood still in silence when the click first showed your paintings. Your journey through the world of Gods and Goddesses and universe and earth. You paint with poetry and devotion.

I want to inhale the beauty you harness, to consume and claim it as the prize of my hunt.

You said you waited and painted without selling until you were ripe. Not for the money you paint. Today the airport in New Delhi is decorated with your images; they breathe India and her heritage. Every story you tell in pictures is a sacred offering. India is a cradle for the resurrection of art. Here is it carefully modernized by women who have studied the old scriptures. I smell a future trend.

A journey has begun for the heroes and heroines of the future.

Meeting you is recognition.


To you:

You are my hero.

Wherever you live and whatever you do.

Our titles are not important.

You are here. This is enough.

The gift of your presence.

I love you.

Thank you.

For being part of thefemalegrail circle. Thank you for each second we spent together dreaming.

I bow to the path for each experience I had this year.

As usual I celebrate silently. Within.

Wild love