OCEANSPEAK<SKYSPEAK
AS WE ARE NOW IN
OCALA, FLORIDA
Due to Chill in Air and Fog this morning in Ocala
Sunrise Photos Below from
Harbour Island, Bahamas Sunrise
April, 3, 2019
WELCOMING DEATH
OF ALL
THAT IS NOT REAL
<
ONE MOMENT IS NOT MORE PRECIOUS THAN ANOTHER
BE CAUSE
THERE IS ONLY ONE ETERNAL MOMENT
ew
5:49 AM-3/30/20
OF ALL
THAT IS NOT REAL
<
ONE MOMENT IS NOT MORE PRECIOUS THAN ANOTHER
BE CAUSE
THERE IS ONLY ONE ETERNAL MOMENT
ew
5:49 AM-3/30/20
from Women Who Run with the Wolves
by
Clarissa Pinkola Estes...
...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.
by
Clarissa Pinkola Estes...
...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.
A sense of her also comes through the vision;
through sights of great beauty.
A sense of her also comes through the vision;
through sights of great beauty.
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 true 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.
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.
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.
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.
So 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 criatura, creature, has innate integrity and healthy boundaries. These words, wild and woman, cause women to remember who they are and what they are about. They create a metaphor to describe the force which funds all females. They personify a force that women cannot live without.
Because in the beginning of retrieving our relationship with her she can turn to smoke in an instant, by naming her we create for her a territory of thought and feeling within us.
Because in the beginning of retrieving our relationship with her she can turn to smoke in an instant, by naming her we create for her a territory of thought and feeling within us.
The comprehension of this Wild Woman nature is not a religion but a practice. It is a psychology in its truest sense: psukhe/psych, soul; ology or logos, a knowing of the soul. Without her, women are without ears to hear her soultalk or to register the chiming of their own inner rhythms. Without her, women's inner eyes are closed by some shadowy hand, and large parts of their days are spent in semi-paralyzing ennui or else wishful thinking.
Without her,
women lose the sureness of their soulfooting.
Without her,
they forget why they're here,
they hold on when they would best hold out.
Without her,
they take too much or too little or nothing at all.
Without her,
they are silent when they are in fact on fire.
women lose the sureness of their soulfooting.
Without her,
they forget why they're here,
they hold on when they would best hold out.
Without her,
they take too much or too little or nothing at all.
Without her,
they are silent when they are in fact on fire.
She is their regulator,
she is their soulful heart,
the same as the human heart
that regulates the physical body.
In general, when we understand
the wildish nature as a being in its own right,
one which animates and informs a woman's deepest life, then we can begin to develop
in ways never thought possible.
Dr. Clarissa P. Estes
Women Who Run with the Wolves
https://www.meetup.com/NY-Mythology/messages/boards/thread/3121786
she is their soulful heart,
the same as the human heart
that regulates the physical body.
In general, when we understand
the wildish nature as a being in its own right,
one which animates and informs a woman's deepest life, then we can begin to develop
in ways never thought possible.
Dr. Clarissa P. Estes
Women Who Run with the Wolves
https://www.meetup.com/NY-Mythology/messages/boards/thread/3121786
Read More Below
Complete Quote from
Women Who Run with the Wolves
+
Photos: Ocala Sky March 30, 2020
Complete Quote from
Women Who Run with the Wolves
+
Photos: Ocala Sky March 30, 2020
from Women Who Run with the Wolves
by
Clarissa Pinkola Estes...
...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.
A sense of her also comes through the vision;
through sights of great beauty"
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 true 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.
So 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 criatura, creature, has innate integrity and healthy boundaries. These words, wild and woman, cause women to remember who they are and what they are about. They create a metaphor to describe the force which funds all females. They personify a force that women cannot live without.
Because in the beginning of retrieving our relationship with her she can turn to smoke in an instant, by naming her we create for her a territory of thought and feeling within us.
The comprehension of this Wild Woman nature is not a religion but a practice. It is a psychology in its truest sense: psukhe/psych, soul; ology or logos, a knowing of the soul. Without her, women are without ears to hear her soultalk or to register the chiming of their own inner rhythms. Without her, women's inner eyes are closed by some shadowy hand, and large parts of their days are spent in semi-paralyzing ennui or else wishful thinking.
Without her,
women lose the sureness of their soulfooting.
Without her,
they forget why they're here,
they hold on when they would best hold out.
Without her,
they take too much or too little or nothing at all.
Without her,
they are silent when they are in fact on fire.
She is their regulator,
she is their soulful heart,
the same as the human heart
that regulates the physical body.
In general, when we understand
the wildish nature as a being in its own right,
one which animates and informs a woman's deepest life, then we can begin to develop
in ways never thought possible.
Dr. Clarissa P. Estes
Women Who Run with the Wolves
https://www.meetup.com/NY-Mythology/messages/boards/thread/3121786
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