Saturday, May 07, 2005
We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are few culturally
sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to feel shame for such
a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to hide our feelings. But the
shadow of the Wild Woman still lurks behind us during our days and in our
nights. No matter where we are, the shadow that trots behind us is definitely
Favorite Things To Do: Reclaiming my Wild Woman Soul, looking for the river
beneath the river. Things i like : Working out, getting up early to catch the sunrise
with my coffee. Camping, hiking, running, preferably during the rain or browsing at those big Book Stores and reading anything from philosophy, poetry, or Japanese gardening, to travel, home repairs or Baseball, etc..Hanging at coffee houses, driving to a spot on a map, HGTV and Lofty apartments, candles, my Yorkie Poo Jasper Jax, and watching rainy days from the window.
Sushi is my weakness, and beefy biceps. Oh, and MUSIC, music is like food to the soul, I can't live without it, could you?
I am a kind of shabby chic Martha Stewart. I love to cook. I think I am pretty good. Well, at least when someone tastes something new I make they always say, "THATS really good!!!!"
I am starting a big garden this spring. I will update this space with before and ongoing photo updates. I will also include great recipies now and then after I try them.
I am very happy as a loner wolf but I also like to have nice intelligent conversations, and of course
being close and intimate with someone who understands the Wild Woman
ways. There is nothing like the bond between a man and woman who share the same mind and electrifying passion. Something you will never obtain with casual meaningless one night stands. There are not many that can keep my attention, there are even fewer that I allow to unlock my
soul, To even begin to understand me, read the book "Woman who runs with the Wolves" by
Pikola Estes, it is a spiritual journey that I find it absolutely fascinating. It will
give you insight to what I mean by "the wild woman".
It certainly isn't what you are thinking.
I want to meet my soul mate, whose very existence controls my breath,
the man that I can trust with my soul, my heart. i would be committed to making him happy for as long as we are on this earth and after.
I would like to include some excerpts from "Woman who runs with wolves." These old folk stories
have wise insight that can be used even today.
The word "wild" here is not used in its modern pejorative sense, meaning out of control, but in its original sense, which means to live a natural life, one in which the creature, has innate integrity and healthy boundaries. The Wild Woman archetype is a feminine manifesto for all women regardless of age, race, creed or religion, to return to their .....roots. Through myth, fairy tale and ean extended soul conversation calls back into life the wild neglected places of the feminine psyche.
Reclaim Your Wild Woman Soul Reclaim your Wild Woman Soul Wildlife and the Wild Woman are both endangered species. Over time, we have seen the feminine instinctive nature looted, driven back, and overbuilt. The spiritual lands of the Wild Woman have been plundered or burnt, bulldozed, and natural cycles forced into unnatural rhythms to please others.Healthy wolves and healthy women share certain psychic characteristics: keen sensing, playful spirit, and a heightened capacity for devotion. Wolves and women are relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mates and their pack. They are experienced in adapting to constantly changing circumstances; they are fiercely stalwart and very brave. Llamar o tocar a la puerta means literally to play upon the instrument of the name in order to open a door. It means using words that summon up the opening of a passageway. No matter by which culture a woman is influenced, she understands the words wild and woman intuitively. When women hear those words, an old, old memory is stirred and brought back to life. The memory is of our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may have become ghostly from neglect, buried by over-domestication, outlawed by the surrounding culture, or no longer understood anymore. Sometimes a word, a sentence or a poem is so resonant, so right, it causes us to remember, at least for an instant..... Then we leap into the forest or into the desert or into the snow and run hard, our eyes scanning the ground, our hearing sharply tuned, searching under, searching over, searching for a clue, a remnant, a sign that she still lives, that we have not lost our chance. And when we pick up the trail, it is typical of women to ride hard to catch up, to clear off the desk, clear off the relationship, clear out one's mind, turn to a new page, insist on a break, break the rules, stop the world, or we are not going on without her any longer. Without our wildish nature. Once women have lost her and then found her again, they will contend to keep her for good, fight hard to keep her. Like my kith and kin before me, I swagger-staggered in high heels, and I wore a dress and hat. But my fabulous tail often fell below my hemline, and my ears twitched until my hat pitched, down over both my eyes, and sometimes clear across the room. I've not forgotten the song of those dark years, hambre del alma, the song of the starved soul. But neither have I forgotten the joyous canto hondo, the deep song, the words of which come back to us when we do the work of soulful reclamation. For with her wildish nature their creative lives blossom; their relationships gain meaning and depth; their cycles of sexuality, creativity, work and play are re-established; they are no longer marks for the predations of others; they are entitled under the laws of nature to grow and thrive. Now their end of the day fatigue comes from satisfying work and endeavors, not from being shut up in too small a mindset job or relationship. They know instinctively when things must die and when things must live; they know how to walk away, they know how to stay. Within every woman there lives a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing. She is the Wild Woman, who represents the instinctual nature of women. Join in the journey that unfolds in the rich intercultural myths, fairy tales, and stories to reconnect with the fierce, healthy, visionary attributes of this instinctual nature. Through the stories and commentaries we will retrieve, examine, love and understand the Wild Woman. In the next few weeks we will learn The resurrection of the Wild Woman, The dark man in woman's dreams, retrieval of intuition, union with another, finding one's pack, belonging, Skeleton Woman; facing the life/death/life nature of love, body talk, identifying traps, cages and poisoned bait, Sealskin, Soulskin; returning to oneself, boundaries of rage and forgiveness, battle scars, La Selva Subterranea, the river beneath the river, your true soul self.........
Skeleton WomanShe had done something of which her father disapproved, although no one any longer remembered what it was. But her father had dragged her to the cliffs and thrown her over and into the sea. There, the fish ate her flesh away and plucked out her eyes. As she lay under the sea, her skeleton turned over and over in the currents. One day a fisherman came fishing, well, in truth many came to this bay once. But this fisherman had drifted far from his home and did not know that the local fishermen stayed away from this inlet, because they say it was haunted. The fishermans hook drifted down through the water and caught, of all places, in the bones of the Skeleton womans rib cage. OH wow, I have really caught a big one! in his mind he was thinking. And as he struggled with this great weight on the end of the hook, the sea was stirred to a thrashing froth, and his kayak bucked and shook, for she who was beneath struggled to disentangle herself. The more she struggled, the more she tangled in the line. No matter what she did, she was dragged upward, tugged up by the bones of her own ribs. The hunter had turned to scoop up his net, so he did not see her bald head rise above the waves, he did not see the little coral creatures glinting in the orbs of her skull, he did not see the crustaceans on her old ivory teeth. When he turned back with his net her entire body, such as it was, had come to the surface and was hanging from the tip of the kayak by her long front teeth.
Agh! cried the man, and his heart fell into his knees, his eyes hid in terror on the back of his head, and his ears blazed bright red. He screamed and knocked her off the prow with his oar and began paddling like a demon toward the shoreline. And not realizing she was tangled in his line, he was frightened all the more for she appeared to stand upon her toes while chasing him all the way to shore. No matter which was he zigged his kayak she stayed right behind. Aggggggggggggghhhh! He wailed as he ran aground. In one leap he was out of his kayak, clutching his fishing stick and running, and the coral white corpse of the Skeleton Woman, still snagged in the fishing line, bumpety-bumped behind right after him. Over the rocks. Over the frozen tundra. And she kept right up. Throughout it all she kept right up, in fact she grabbed some of the frozen fish as she was dragged behind. This she began to eat, for she had not gorged in a long, long time. Finally the man reached his snow house and dove right into the tunnel into his home. Panting and sobbing he lay there in the dark, his heart pounding. Safe at last!..imagine when he lit his whale oil lamp, there she lay, in a tumble upon his snow floor. One heel over her shoulder, one knee inside her ribcage, one foot over her elbow. He could not say later what it was, perhaps the firelight softened her features, or the fact that he was a lonely man. But a feeling of some kindness came into his breathing, and slowly he reached out and using words softly like a mother to a child, began to untangle her from the fishing line. On and on he worked into the night, until dressing her in furs to keep her warm, Skeleton Womans bones were in the order a humans should be. He gazed at her from time to time and she in the furs uttered not a word she did not dare--lest this hunter take her out and throw her down to the rocks and break her bones to pieces utterly. The man became drowsy, slid under his sleeping skins, and soon was dreaming. And sometimes as humans sleep, a tear escapes from the dreamers eye, we never know what sort of dream causes this, but we know it is a dream of sadness or longing. And this is what happened to the man. The Skeleton Woman saw the tear glisten in the firelight, and she became suddenly sooo thirsty .The clanked over to the man and put her mouth to the tear. The single tear was like a river and she drank and drank and drank till her many years of thirst was slaked. Then, while lying beside him, she reached inside the sleeping man and took out his heart, the mighty drum. She banged and drummed on the mighty heart. She began to sing out. The more she sang the more her body filled out with flesh She sang for hair and good eyes, nice fat hands, she sang for the divide between her legs, and breasts and all the things a woman needs. And when she was done, she also sang the sleeping mans clothes off and crept into bed with him, skin against skin. And that is how they awakened, wrapped around one another, tangled from their night together, in another way now, a good and lasting way.
Interpretation of the story Death in the house of love: Inability to face and untangle the Skeleton Woman is what causes many love relationships to fail. To love, one must not only be strong, but wise. Strength comes from the spirit. Wisdom comes from experience with Skeleton Woman. If one wishes to be fed for life, one must face and develop a relationship with the Life/Death/Life nature. When we have that we are no longer bumbling along fishing for fantasies but are made wise about the necessary deaths and startling births that create true relationship. When we face Skeleton Woman we learn that passion is not something to go get but rather something generated in cycles and given out. We have been thought that death is always followed by more death. It is simply not so, death is always in the process of incubating new life, even when ones existence has been cut down to the bones. While one side of the heart empties, the other fills. When one breath runs out, another begins. If one believes that the Life/Death/Life force has no stanza beyond death, it is no wonder that some humans are frightened of commitment. They are terrified to go through even one ending.
The first phases of love. The accidental finding of treasure. Discovering another person is a kind of spiritual treasure, even though one may not at first realize what one has found. Next in most love relationships come the chase and the hiding, a time of hopes and fears for both. Then comes the untangling and understanding of the Life/Death/Life aspects and the development of compassion for the task. Next come the relaxing into trust, the ability to rest in the presence and goodwill of the other, and after that, time of sharing both future dreams and past sadness. Then the use of the heart to sing up new life, and finally, the intermingling of body and soul. So often we entertain the fantasy of being fed through a love affair, a job or by money, and we hope these feedings will last a long time. We would not like to do any further work. In truth there are times we would like to be fed without doing much work at all. In reality, we know nothing of value ever develops this way. To dream of perfect love is easy. You just may stumble upon your treasure anyway. Then it is your souls work to recognize the treasure no matter how unusual its form and consider carefully what to do next. We know that relationships sometimes falter when they move from the anticipatory stage to the stage of facing what is really on the end of ones hook. To love means to stay with. It means to emerge from a fantasy world into a world where sustainable love is possible, face-to-face, bones to bones. To love means to stay when every cell says run! To love pleasure takes little. To love truly takes a hero who can manage his or her own fear. If it is love we are making, even though we are apprehensive or frightened, we are willing to untangle the bones of the Death nature. We are willing to see how it all goes. We are willing to touch the not beautiful in another and in ourselves. Three things differentiate living from the soul versus living from the ego only. They are: the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road, and the patience to learn deep love over time. What must die in me in order to love? so it is not from the ever-changing ego that we love another, but rather from the wild soul. That is how love relationship is meant to work, each partner transforming the other. The strength and power of each is untangled and shared. He gives her the heart drum. She gives him knowledge of the most complicated rhythms and emotions imaginable. Who knows what they will hunt together? We only know that they will be nourished to the end of their days.