Soul in the wild.


A woman’s issues of soul cannot be treated by carving her into a more acceptable form as defined by an unconscious culture, nor can she be bent into a more intellectually acceptable shape by those who claim to be the sole bearers of consciousness.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run with Wolves.

This is what it’s all about–the absence, the longing, the silent sabbatical. It’s breathing space and some room I’m giving myself to occupy my own skin. These past two weeks have been immensely meaningful. There have been dragons in the sky and flying buddhas worth a story or two but as of late, the journey hasn’t been completed. I have to heed the signs and return to the moon when it is most auspicious– 11-11-11.

Excuse me for being cryptic, my dears. Part of me wants to begin telling the story of the past two weeks but another would like some more silence and a bit more road. So I’ll listen and let be.

One thought on “Soul in the wild.

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