Eight women are lying in a room in a mansion in Mount Martha, a wealthy suburb an hour out of Melbourne. Their heads are in the middle of the circle, their bodies splayed out like a multi-pronged sundial. Slowly, as Jordana Ezra guides them, they insert a finger into their vaginas. As they breathe, they push a pressure point.
“Go to noon … press in, breathe,” she says. “And now, three o’clock.”
