May your hearts remain ever wild…Part Seven
Well they said we were not going to be able to meet her and I was prepared for that. Much more than meeting her happened that may take years to put into words. Here is my evidence – inscribed to me and the Cosmic Cowgirls with the words —
May your hearts remain forever wild.
And I do actually feel transformed…which is almost hard for me to believe that it is possible. I feel like my brain is working and my heart is opened and I my ability to see hear and feel is heightened….
I feel like I could write volumes…and I will continue to share my journey – including about the drawing I gave her…
I will share the next part of which is the Heart Song Hermitage with a dear Priestess and her faithful dog – Destiny Grace. That is coming up next.
At the tail end of my wolfey journey I got to be on a phone call with one of my wise women’s circles. One fabulous poet happened to write down key phrases in my sharing…and so I will share them with you here…muchas gracias glorious S for capturing the mood.
A Foot In Both Worlds
The Giant Permission Slip
Your Own Fairy Tale
A Different Ending
Offering Milk To The Moon
Write A Horrible Poem
Blood & Guts & Bones & Tears
Getting To The Other Side
Everything Is In Its Place Today
Raise Your Frequency
We Need To Walk Through The Gates Together
Be Watchful At The Gates
Don’t Lose Your Resolve
Don’t Be So Accommodating
Today Is A Feast Day
For now I feel like leaving with words for the Cantadora herself…and by all means if you do not have a copy of Women Who Run With the Wolves – please…get one.
Loving you in my wild heart dear ones…more then words or images know how to express,
Quotes from Clarissa Pinkola Estes – Women Who Run With The Wolves
…I call her Wild Woman, for those very words, wild and woman, create llamar o tocar a la puerta, the fairy-tale knock at the door of the deep feminine psyche. 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. We may have forgotten her names, we may not answer when she calls ours, but in our bones we know her, we yearn toward her, we know she belongs to us and we to her.
“There are times when we experience her, even if only fleetingly, and it makes us mad with wanting to continue. For some women, this vitalizing “taste of the wild” comes during pregnancy, during nursing their young, during the miracle of change in oneself as one raises a child, during attending to a love relationship as one would attend to a beloved garden.
“She comes to us through sound as well; through music which vibrates the sternum, excites the heart; it comes through the drum, the whistle, the call, and the cry. It comes through the written and the spoken word; sometimes a word, a sentence or a poem or a story, is so resonant, so right, it causes us to remember, at least for an instant, what substance we are really made from, and where is our try home.
These transient “tastes of the wild” come during the mystique of inspiration ” ah, there it is; oh, now it has gone. The longing for her comes when one happens across someone who has secured this wildish relationship. The longing comes when one realizes one has given scant time to the mystic cookfire or to the dreamtime, too little time to one”s creative life, one”s life work, or one”s true loves.
Yet it is these fleeting tastes which come both through beauty as well as loss, that cause us to become so bereft, so agitated, so longing that we eventually must pursue the wildish nature. 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 her 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, for we are not going on without her any longer.
Once women have lost her and then found her again, they will contend to keep her for good. Once they have regained her, they will fight and fight hard to keep her, for with her their creative lives blossom; their relationships gain meaning and depth and health; their cycles of sexuality, creativity, work, and play are reestablished; they are no longer marks for the predation of others; they are entitled equally under the laws of nature to grow and to thrive.
When women reassert their relationship with the wildish nature, they are gifted with a permanent and internal watcher, a knower, a visionary, an oracle, an inspiratrice, an intuitive, a maker, a creator, an inventor, and a listener who guide, suggest, and urge vibrant life in the inner and outer worlds. When women are close to this nature, the fact of that relationship glows through them. The wild teacher, wild mother, wild mentor supports their inner and outer lives, no matter what.