#wildish art

[rosequartzish]

Writing an urban fantasy about a band, and one of the main characters is a werewolf drummer who reveals this to his friends/bandmates, which sets off The Plot.

His name is Forrest Wildish, he's very anxious and very tired.

[tired-biscuit]

Imagine giving General Kiba a handjob during an important meeting- 👀👀

18+ fem!reader / cw: mentions of alcohol and risk of getting caught. royalty AU. there's tension between kiba and shino in this one!!

series masterlist

mead tastes better than you thought it would.

absent-mindedly staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace that's situated right across the great table you currently sit at, you consume the honeyed drink from your glass in small sips.

fine ladies such as yourself usually don't drink alcohol in order to obtain their graceful poise and elegant speech, you know this, however ever since your father had married - sold - you off to a war general instead of a duke, or at least a nobleman who'd know how to dance and use his utensils properly, you've since abandoned that particular idea.

so you sit there; in your 'i carry my own knife strapped to my belt like some heathen, instead of using normal silverware' husband's study. the study, which he lets you in only as of late, and which you've just realized looks absolutely divine, even if its visual does come off a tad bit blurry around the edges of your sight whenever you blink.

readjusting in your chair, you drag your gaze from one end to the other. the walls are decorated with tasteful art which he definitely did not pick or hang. the furniture, made out of wood that you suspect is surely walnut, pleasantly compliments the suave style of the entire space. incense burns in one corner, smelling prominently of sandalwood. it fills your lungs with warm hints of amber and worn leather.

it's all very male, the atmosphere, and as the minutes pass, the heaviness of it turns you somewhat dozy. truth be told, you could fall asleep right then and there, with your cheek laying flat against the table, dreams riddling your thoughts in no time. especially when you'd have thickly sweet mead warming your veins throughout the entire night, and you'd already managed to slip off your shoes just a moment prior.

wiggling your toes deeper into the carpet, you let out an appreciative sigh at how the rich material brushing against your bare soles feels astoundingly more intense than usual. being tipsy is great, you discover, and the carpet is thick and in the colour of a deep maroon red; its purpose only meant to add further to the already overly-sophisticated ambience of the room that doesn't suit the wildish personality of the general at all. you suppose that it's because he hasn't been using the study for long enough yet, but who knows?

still, you don't pay much mind to the thought as the feverish shade plays with your drunken brain the moment you dip your chin down to inspect it more closely. toes tightly curling, it's like your feet are touching molten steel from how warm and soft they've suddenly gotten, and it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no way of cooling them down.

the heat sits not on your skin; it instead brings your blood to a simmer.

your husband doesn't address the weight of your foot when you rest it on top of his boot underneath the table. with his nose nearly buried in copious stacks of maps and documents all representing your thriving nation that's ruled by the iron fist of your father, kiba has been ignoring you completely for the last three hours or so in order to strategize and prepare for his next campaign.

the war is over, he's won it - that is why you're here, after all - and yet he still works and plans ahead of time to foresee the next challenge that could possibly be thrown his way. it's a trait you catch yourself feeling slightly surprised by, perhaps even fond over; one that you wouldn't necessarily appoint to a careless brute like him.

he's all different kinds of clever than what you're normally used to, you realize. when he focuses, it's rather on anticipating attacks and finding ways to efficiently counter their assisting blows, than on poetry and music and the arts and just plain literature.

you've never seen him read a book, even if there are plenty in the library downstairs and inside this study alone. much less encountered him drawing something other than charts to place his platoons and battalions of soldiers on, and the childish-looking rabbits he sometimes scribbles for you to make you smile. philosophy is almost surely a foreign term to him, all he cares about is the bite of the fight.

so perhaps that, along with all the scheming and planning he does with his stoic advisor now, proves to be the reason as to why he hadn't fussed at all and had merely brushed you off with a quick wave of his hand when you'd whispered to him that you intend to pour yourself a drink. and a second. and later, a third.

either that, or he's slowly getting used to you actually having a mind of your own, and is letting you do whatever you please with it just so that you'd let him do his job in return.

but alas, your mind is bored. terribly so.

and standing next to your chair, with his arms spread out firmly on the table and his broad shoulders slumped, he looks mighty appealing as well.

applying further pressure to his boot, you watch as the bridge of his nose scrunches slightly at the contact. he doesn't say or do anything besides knitting his brows together, but by the time you repeat the action for a second time, way more persistently at that, he finally lifts his gaze from the group of small figurines he's been obsessively rearranging all across the map, and turns to look at you instead.

the moment your husband's attention moves onto you, his military advisor clamps his mouth shut; finally ceasing his seemingly-endless assessment of the area they've chosen to put the phantom-soldiers on, and that you've been forced to listen to for the last aeon or so.

well, not exactly forced, per se. you're in here by your own decision; because you've nagged kiba about wanting to see what his line of work looks like.

so whilst you're still trying to get used to the sudden silence to fall upon the room, you give a fleeting glance to the soldier that stands across from you, now. he's tall, fair-skinned and lean. handsome but guarded, as far as you can tell, since he doesn't even look at you, much less acknowledges your presence despite that you're of noble blood.

privilege doesn't seem to matter to military men. to him, you're just another woman amongst many. a mere breeding mare, as disgusting as that sounds.

your husband used to be just like that.

"yes, princess?" the man in question asks, putting your train of thought to an abrupt halt. when you whip your head to the side so that you can look up at him, you're able to tell that he's tired almost straight away. you can hear it in the prominent drawl of his voice and see it in his eyes. he's fed-up even if he loves to work, and it makes your brow furrow with concern.

"i-i... uhm," your tongue stumbles and you fall silent for a moment as heat steadily begins to creep up your neck. if it's because of the alcohol or the sudden racing that the sugary pet name invokes in your heart, you do not know. still, you swallow hard and calm your pulse down just enough to say, "i'm sorry, i just wanted to suggest if we'd call it a night...? you seem tired and it's getting quite late anyway, and-"

your voice fades into nothing for a second time around when he chooses to move. he's slow but everlastingly robust as he sighs and plops down onto the chair that's right on your left. his body slumps against the finely-carved details in the backrest and you try to pretend that you don't notice the visible cord that pushes against his neck when he moves to stretch it from side to side. try to play ignorant at how he spreads his legs underneath the edge of the table and sits as if he comandeers the entire room.

it's probably because he does.

he rubs at his eye now, all sleepy and laggard, and uses the other one to look at you. "let me just figure out if the terrain we chose is passable, and then i promise you that we'll head straight to bed." he blinks, then. fights back a yawn because he hasn't been sleeping well for nearly a week straight. "does that sound all right?"

a blush sears your face at his words, its warmth making your cheeks feel like they're tingling as you turn away and indulge in your sudden bashfulness. he might be a smooth talker or maybe you're just drunk, but goddammit; the fact that he's actually willing to put in the effort to settle on an agreement almost regularly now, lights your entire body on fire.

you're changing him for the better day by day and your lips keep tugging upward at the corners because of it, especially when you say, "yes, that's fine by me."

"good," he mumbles, taking note of the beam before he turns his attention back towards his aloof-looking subordinate. "now, where were we, shino?"

shino, as you've just learned is the advisor's name, quirks a dark, inquisitive brow at the exchange he's just witnessed. the man before you doesn't remember his general ever acting this considerate around anyone, much less a woman.

it makes his eyes dance between you as he clears his throat. "if i may suggest," his gaze goes back and forth again, "that if the lady wishes to retire for the evening, she should be free to do so? we've still got a lot of material to go through, and disturbances like these aren't of any help when it comes to making a decision, i'm sure."

disturbances.

your heart drops right down to the pit of your stomach. the fact that the word affects you is hard to hide; embarrassment makes your face burn once more, because now you've got your husband's thigh firmly pressing against the side of yours underneath the table. his knee bounces in a quick rhythm that doesn't help calming you down, but one bump to your leg reminds you to keep your spine ramrod straight and your chin held high.

when you look at him from the corner of your eye, there's a small smile playing on his lips. and yet, his voice sounds like it's being grit out through clenched teeth as he says, "i don't know what kind of wife you've got back at home, but mine sure isn't a disturbance; as you've so kindly put it."

"i understand that, sir," shino says, his voice remaining perfectly flat, "but she-"

"the lady suggested that we should perhaps put a halt on this thing, because she can tell that i'm fed up and fucking tired," the other man cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his scarred fingers. "and as far as i can tell, that's not a disturbance; it's rather affection coming from a caring spouse. besides, she has a point. what fruitful decision had ever been made by an exhausted general?"

the advisor's eyes narrow as your own shoot wide open. your heart insists on fluttering back up towards its rightful place, even as shino says, "i don't seem to recall you ever being this careful during the planning of a campaign before... usually you're more than eager to run headfirst into battle and i have to be the one stopping you."

"well, i've got more important things to consider and worry about now. much larger things are at stake," the general replies, brushing him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "now, go fetch me that book you were talking about earlier; i think i saw it in the bookcase over there by the window. after we skim it, we can call it a night so that we're all happy."

he makes it sound like an order, not a request. and sure enough, his advisor is still a soldier, so he quietly obeys as he pushes away from the table and turns his back towards you both whilst heading towards the bookcase at the other side of the room. you don't miss the subtle albeit frustrated tick in his jaw as he does so. it makes you muse.

meanwhile, kiba uses the chance to press a hasty kiss to your still-warm cheek. the sudden affection nearly makes you audibly gasp, but you're fast to stifle it down even if the mead in your belly tells you not to.

instead, you place your hand on his thigh and don't dare look into his big brown eyes as you mutter a meek, "i'm sorry."

"eh? what on earth are you sorry for, princess? you were just looking out for me, were you not?" he rasps, his voice no longer sharp, but playful. "besides, shino should be the one apologizing for acting like a stuck-up cunt towards my goddamn wife."

"oh, you can't just-" a small giggle bubbles up your throat at his blatant cursing. you're quick to cover your mouth with your other palm, but a fraction of it still manages to slip out. he can't deny it anymore; the sound jumpstarts kiba's very heart.

he doesn't tell you this, but he's growing more fond of you with each passing day. you bring sunshine and warmth into his existence by merely existing yourself. slowly figuring out a functioning dynamic that works well between you, sharing a bed and sometimes a bath, having someone to talk to late at night, receiving little signs of affection; it all makes him feel like life is worth living. like he's worth living for.

so it's no wonder why his hand cups your chin and he whispers, "so... could i perhaps get a little kiss? as a reward for being such a good husband?"

you're clearly flustered, because now you're looking at him from underneath your lashes as you mumble, "now?"

"mhmm," he purrs, draping his free arm over the backrest of your chair. "right now."

"but what if your advisor-"

"you know that book i mentioned earlier?" he interrupts, leaning in even closer. he smells like a forest; deep and rich, earthy. it titillates your senses.

"mm," is all you offer in answer. god, you're so drunk that the heat between your legs is pulsating in his presence. it's becoming almost unbearable, you feel like a whore despite that he's your husband.

he glances towards the other man in the room, whose back is still turned towards you as he keeps searching the bookshelves. "...well, i might have forgotten to mention that it's up in my bedroom because i'd been reading it just last night."

you blink, clearly surprised. "you read?"

"only when i have to." he glances across the room again before he licks his lips and says, "but the point i'm trying to make is that he's gonna be searching for it for a long while, so i think it's safe to say that a kiss would go entirely unnoticed."

you sigh at this, but succumb rather quickly. it might be because of the alcohol that's still coursing your system or because of his coaxing and urging, but by the time your lips press against his own softly, aiming for a simple peck, he's quick to immediately turn it into something deeper.

he just likes you so much. and can you blame him that he wants a little bit of loving from the person he admires, after the tough, absolutely draining week he's had? he's just so needy.

and he's also a messy kisser. your whimper is silenced when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and licks your teeth with the swift arrogance of an assured male. he angles your head by pressing his thumb underneath your chin and sucks on your bottom lip until it starts to feel awfully tender and bruised. you can feel the slight grazing of his unnaturally sharp incisor every once in a while as he continues to taste you. it's enough to drive a woman completely mad.

especially because you can feel him hardening just underneath your palm, now. it seems that your treacherous hand had decided to act upon its own selfish desires whilst you were too busy handling his tongue in your mouth, and had inched higher up his leg until it'd finally settled on the now-prominent bulge that resides in his pants.

by the time you pull apart for air, his cock is already pushing against the buttons and there's a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. his cheeks are flushed, brown eyes glazed as he releases his hold on your chin and swipes his thumb across your lip to get rid of the spit there.

"we shouldn't-" you start, but he silences you by wedging his thumb between your plush lips and pushing it into your mouth, right to the knuckle. you can see his pupils dilate when your first instinct is to suck on it.

"fuck, you've got such a good-lookin' mouth; but i can't... just..." he mumbles somewhat dazedly now, his voice hoarse in that appealing way that tells you he's horny out of his fucking mind, and so quick, too. he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head as if he's trying to gather his thoughts before he focuses on you again and rasps, "just stroke it. over my pants."

when you give his advisor a sidelong glance, you're relieved to find out that he's still stubbornly searching for the book in hopes of not disappointing his superior. but unfortunately for you, your husband isn't pleased with you directing your attention on another man at a crucial time like this.

"hey... look at me, princess," he taps his fingers against your cheekbone and presses his thumb onto the flat of your tongue, making you wince in surprise when your throat tightens in answer. "i need you to stroke my cock, all right?"

all you do is grunt in response. the sound comes out muffled.

"it'll just look like we're whispering to each other. you know, as a married couple does from time to time," he inches closer, his way of speaking urgent. "i promise he won't notice a thing."

he's gotten so desperate now that he's even wrapped his hand around your own and started moving it up and down his length. when your grip tightens around his clothed cock, you watch in awe as he bites his lip to suppress a groan.

his arm is still resting on your chair's backrest when he pushes forward again and nearly covers your body from sight with his own. hunching his back, he tries to hide the way his ribcage expands whenever he sucks in breaths that grow deeper by the second. you can feel the film of sweat on his forehead when he rests it against your own.

"sir? i can't seem to find the book," shino starts. your heart nearly gives out at the sound of his voice, it's like lightning flashes throughout your every cell.

"keep lookin', i'm sure it's in there somewhere," kiba bites out immediately. all polite talk has ceased to exist.

"but-"

"that's an order, soldier."

you push his thumb out of your mouth with the help of your tongue to chide, "that doesn't seem really convincing! if he turns around, it'll-"

"look like we're gossiping," kiba persists. you nearly squeak when his fingers dig into your gown and rest on your thigh. "like a married couple; just like i've said."

"h-hey-"

"just keep going," he hisses. his eyes are so dark that it makes you fear they'll swallow you whole, and as if he can sense your growing anxiety, he forces his gaze to soften a bit before he adds, "please. you're doing such a good job and i really want this."

you're scared of getting caught because you're supposed to be representing the image of innocence, but truth be told; you're also impeccably thrilled at the same time. he feels big in your hand; fat and heavy and warm between your fingers even over the layer of fabric. every time you squeeze him over his pants, he twitches and bucks his hips right into your touch just to gain more friction.

"fuck yes, princess." every breath is ragged. "that's it... gonna make me cum so fast."

"shh! keep quiet."

it's kind of sweet, how evidently he needs you. but it's also lewd.

the things this man's libido makes him do is unbelievable. it's only been a couple of days since he's last made love to you, and here he is; with his sanity nearly crumbling down to its pillars whilst teaching you how to give him a not at all subtle, under-the-table handjob even if there's an audience nearby. you can't believe he's willing to risk his rank or fall subject to despicable rumours for just a mere touch of your hand.

either he's absolutely delirious, or he's a fool in love. but nevertheless, by the time shino at long last admits defeat and confesses he's unable to find the book; he's also sated.

and as for you; well, let's just say it's hard not to laugh at the knowledge that your husband's pants are sticky with cum when you excuse yourself from the table and he's stuck in the study, rearranging his little toy soldiers.

[tseneipgam]

“Wildlife and the Wild Woman are both endangered species. Over time, we have seen the feminine instinctive nature looted, driven back, and overbuilt. For long periods it has been mismanaged like the wildlife and the wildlands. For several thousand years, as soon and as often as we turn our backs, it is relegated to the poorest land in the psyche. The spiritual lands of Wild Woman have, throughout history, been plundered or burnt, dens bulldozed, and natural cycles forced into unnatural rhythms to please others. It's not by accident that the pristine wilderness of our planet disappears as the understanding of our own inner wild natures fades. It is not so difficult to comprehend why old forests and old women are viewed as not very important resources. It is not such a mystery. It is not so coincidental that wolves and coyotes, bears and wildish women have similar reputations. They all share related instinctual archetypes, and as such, both are erroneously reputed to be ingracious, wholly and innately dangerous, and ravenous.”

“Rather than chairs and tables, I preferred the ground, trees, and caves, for in those places I felt I could lean against the cheek of God. The river always called to be visited after dark, the fields needed to be walked in so they could make their rustle-talk. Fires needed to be built in the forest at night, and stories needed to be told outside the hearing of grown-ups. I was lucky to be brought up in Nature. There, lightning strikes taught me about sudden death and the evanescence of life. Mice lit- ters showed that death was softened by new life. When I unearthed "Indian beads," fossils from the loam, I understood that humans have been here a long, long time. I learned about the sacred art of self-decoration with monarch butterflies perched atop my head, light- ning bugs as my night jewelry, and emerald-green frogs as bracelets. A wolf mother killed one of her mortally injured pups; this taught a hard compassion and the necessity of allowing death to come to the dying. The fuzzy caterpillars which fell from their branches and crawled back up again taught single-mindedness. Their tickle-walking on my arm taught how skin can come alive. Climbing to the tops of trees taught what sex would someday feel like. My own post-World War Il generation grew up in a time when women were infantilized and treated as property. They were kept as fallow gardens ... but thankfully there was always wild seed which arrived on the wind. Though what they wrote was unauthorized, women blazed away anyway. Though what they painted went unrec- ognized, it fed the soul anyway. Women had to beg for the instru- ments and the spaces needed for their arts, and if none were forthcoming, they made space in trees, caves, woods, and closets. Dancing was barely tolerated, if at all, so they danced in the forest where no one could see them, or in the basement, or on the way out to empty the trash. Self-decoration caused suspicion. Joyful body or dress increased the danger of being harmed or sexually assaulted. The very clothes on one's shoulders could not be called one's own. It was a time when parents who abused their children were simply called "strict," when the spiritual lacerations of profoundly exploited women were referred to as "nervous breakdowns," when girls and women who were tightly girdled, tightly reined, and tightly muzzled were called "nice." and those other females who managed to slip the collar for a moment or two of life were branded "bad."

“The memory is of our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may have become ghosty from neglect, buried by over-domestication, out- lawed 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. It is into this fundamental, elemental, and essential relationship that we were born and that in our essence we are also derived from. The Wild Woman archetype sheaths the alpha matrilineal being. There are times when we experience her, even if only fleetingly, and it makes us mad with wanting to continue. For some women, this vi- talizing "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. I have felt her when I see what we call in the woodlands a Jesus-God sunset. I have felt her move in me from seeing the fish- ermen come up from the lake at dusk with lanterns lit, and also from seeing my newborn baby's toes all lined up like a row of sweet corn. We see her where we see her, which is everywhere. She comes to us through sound as well; through music which vi- brates 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 wild- ish 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 own 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”

“when we lose touch with the instinctive Psyche, we live in a semi. developed state and images and powers that are natural to the feminine are not allowed full development. When a woman is cut away from her base source, she is sanitised, and her instincts and natural life  cycles are lost, subsumed by the culture, or by the intellect or the ego- one's own or those belonging to others. Wild woman is the health of all women. Without her, women's psychology makes no sense. This wilderwoman is the prototypical woman... no matter what culture, no matter what era, no matter what politic, she does not change. Her cycles change, her symbolic representations change, but in essence, she does not change. She is what she is and she is whole. She canalizes through women. If they are suppressed, she struggles upward. If women are free, she is free. Fortunately, no matter how many times she is pushed down, she bounds up again. No matter how many times she is forbidden, quelled, cut back, diluted, tortured. touted as unsafe, dangerous, mad, and other derogations, she ema- nates upward in women, so that even the most quiet, even the most restrained woman keeps a secret place for her. Even the most re- pressed woman has a secret life, with secret thoughts and secret feel- ings which are lush and wild, that is, natural. Even the most captured woman guards the place of the wildish self, for she knows intuitively that someday there will be a loophole, an aperture, a chance, and she will hightail it to escape. I believe that all women and men are born gifted. However, and truly, there has been little to describe the psychological lives and ways of gifted women, talented women, creative women. There is, on the other hand, much writ about the weakness and foibles of humans in general and women in particular. But in the case of the Wild Woman archetype, in order to fathom her, apprehend her, utilize her offerings, we must be more interested in the thoughts, feelings, and endeavor which strengthen women, and adequate count the interior and cultural factors which weaken women.”

“ So, in order to apply a good medicine to the hurt parts of the wild­ ish psyche, in order to aright relationship to the archetype of the Wild Woman, one has to name the disarrays of the psyche accurately. While in my clinical profession we do have a good diagnostic statis­tical manual and a goodly amount of differential diagnoses, as well as psychoanalytic parameters which define psychopathy through the or­ganization (or lack of it) in the objective psyche and the ego-Self axis, there are yet other defining behaviors and feelings which, from a woman’s frame of reference, powerfully describe what is the matter. What are some of the feeling-toned symptoms of a disrupted rela­ tionship with the wildish force in the psyche? To chronically feel, think, or act in any of the following ways is to have partially severed or lost entirely the relationship with the deep instinctual psyche. Us­ ing women’s language exclusively, these are: feeling extraordinarily dry, fatigued, frail, depressed, confused, gagged, muzzled, unaroused. Feeling frightened, halt or weak, without inspiration, without anima­ tion, without soulfulness, without meaning, shame-bearing, chroni­ cally fuming, volatile, stuck, uncreative, compressed, crazed. Feeling powerless, chronically doubtful, shaky, blocked, unable to follow through, giving one’s creative life over to others, life-sapping choices in mates, work or friendships, suffering to live outside one’s own cycles, overprotective of self, inert, uncertain, faltering, inability to pace oneself or set limits. Not insistent on one’s own tempo, to be self-conscious, to be away from one’s God or Gods, to be separated from one’s revivification, drawn far into domesticity, intellectualism, work, or inertia because that is the safest place for one who has lost her instincts. To fear to venture by oneself or to reveal oneself, fear to seek men­ tor, mother, father, fear to set out one’s imperfect work before it is an opus, fear to set out on a journey, fear of caring for another or oth­ ers, fear one will run on, run out, run down, cringing before author­ ity, loss of energy before creative projects, wincing, humiliation, angst, numbness, anxiety. Afraid to bite back when there is nothing else left to do, afraid to try the new, fear to stand up to, afraid to speak up, speak against”

“An old witch from Ranchos told me that La Que Sabe knew everything about women, that La Que Sabe had created women from a wrinkle on the sole of her divine foot: This is why women are knowing creatures; they are made, in essence, of the skin of the sole, which feels every­ thing. This idea that the skin of the foot is sentient had the ring of a truth, for an acculturated Kiche tribeswoman once told me that she’d worn her first pair of shoes when she was twenty years old and was still not used to walking con los ojos vendados, with blindfolds on her feet.”

“In a single human being there are many other beings, all with their own values, motives, and devices. Some psychological technologies suggest we arrest these beings, count them, name them, force them into harness till they shuffle along like vanquished slaves. But to do this would halt the dance of wildish lights in a woman's eyes; it would halt her heat lightning and arrest all throwing of sparks. Rather than corrupt her natural beauty, our work is to build for all these beings a wildish countryside wherein the artists among them can make, the lovers love, the healers heal. But what shall we do with those inner beings who are quite mad and those who carry out destruction without thought? Even these must be given a place, though one in which they can be contained. One entity in particular, the most deceitful and most powerful fugi- tive in the psyche, requires our immediate consciousness and containment--and that one is the natural predator.”

“Developing a relationship with the wildish nature is an essential part of women's individuation. In order to accomplish this, a woman mus go into the dark, but at the same time she must not be irreparably trapped, captured, or killed on her way there or back. The Bluebeard story is about that captor, the dark man who inhab its all women's psyches, the innate predator. He is a specific and it controvertible force which must be memorized and restrained. To restrain the natural predator? of the psyche it is necessary for women to remain in possession of all their instinctual powers. Some of these are insight, intuition, endurance, tenacious loving, keen sensing, tas vision, acute hearing, singing over the dead, intuitive healing, and tending to their own creative fires.”

“Like wolf pups, women need a similar initiation, one which teaches that the inner and outer worlds are not always happy-go-lucky places. Many women do not even have the basic teaching about pred- ators that a wolf mother gives her pups, such as: if it's threatening and bigger than you, flee; if it's weaker, see what you want to do; it it's sick, leave it alone; if it has quills, poison, fangs, or razor claws, back up and go in the other direction; if it smells nice but is wrapped around metal jaws, walk on by.”

“Learning even more mindfully to let go of the overly positive mother. Finding that being good, being sweet, being nice will not cause life to sing. (Vasalisa becomes a slave, but it does not help.)Experiencing directly one's own shadow nature, particularly the exclusionary, jealous, and exploitative aspects of self (the stepmother and stepsisters). Acknowledging these unequivocally. Making the best relationship one can with the worst parts of oneself. Letting the pres- sure build between who one is taught to be and who one really is. Ultimately working toward letting the old self die and the new intuitive self be born. The stepmother and stepsisters represent the undeveloped but pro- vocatively cruel elements of the psyche. They are shadow elements, meaning aspects of oneself which are considered by the ego to be un- desirable or not useful and are therefore relegated to the dark. On one hand, shadow material can be quite positive, for often a woman's gifts are pushed into the dark, hidden there and waiting to be discovered. On the other hand, negative shadow material--that which busily kills off or detains all new life-_ can also be turned to one's use, as we shall see. When it erupts, and we finally identify its aspects and sources, we are made all the stronger and wiser. In this stage of initiation, a woman is harassed by the petty demands of her psyche which exhort her to comply with whatever anyone wishes. Compliance causes a shocking realization that must be registered by all women. That is, to be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others, and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves. It is a tormenting tension and it must be borne, but the choice is clear.”

“Whatever can happen to a garden can happen to soul and psyche—too much water, too little water, infestations, heat, storm, flood, invasion, miracles, dying back, coming back, boon, healing, blossoming, bounty, beauty. During the life of the garden, women keep a diary, recording the signs of life-giving and life-taking. Each entry cooks up a psychic soup. In the garden we practice letting thoughts, ideas, preferences, desires, even loves, both live and die. We plant, we pull, we bury. We dry seed, sow it, moisten it, support it, harvest. The garden is a meditation practice, that of seeing when it is time for something to die. In the garden one can see the time coming for both fruition and for dying back. In the garden one is moving with rather than against the inhalations and the exhalations of greater wild Nature. Through this meditation, we acknowledge that the Life/Death/Life cycle is a natural one. Both life-giving and death-dealing natures are waiting to be befriended, forever loved. In this process, we become like the cyclical wild. We have the ability to infuse energy and strengthen life, and to stand out of the way of what dies.”

“To amplify further, if you are presented with an opportunity to bur a bicyele, or an opportunity to travel to Egypt and see the Pyramit, you have to set the opportunity aside for the moment, enter into yourself, and ask, “What am I hungry for? What do I long for Maybe I'm hungry for a motorcycle instead of a bicycle. Maybe i'm hungry for a trip to see my grandmother, who's coming up in years" The decisions do not have to be so large. Sometimes the matter to be weighed is taking a walk versus making a poem.”

“"In the consensual reality, we all have access to little wild mothers in the flesh. These are women who, as soon as you see them, some- thing in you leaps, and something in you thinks, "MaMa." You take one look and think, "I am her progeny, I am her child, she is my mother, my grandmother." In the case of un hombre con pechos- figuratively, a man with breasts--you might think, "Oh grandfather" or "Oh my brother, my friend." You just know that this man is nur- turing. (Paradoxically they are strongly masculine and strongly femi- nine at the same time. They are like fairy godmother, like mentor, like the mother you never had, or did not have long enough; that is an un hombre con pechos.)31 All these human beings could be called little wild mothers. Usually everyone has at least one. If we are lucky, throughout a lifetime we will have several. You are usually grown or at least in your late ad- olescence by the time you meet them. They are vastly different from the too-good mother. The little wild mothers guide you, burst with pride over your accomplishments. They are critical of blockages and mistaken notions in and around your creative, sensual, spiritual, and intellectual life. Their purpose is to help you, to care about your art, and to reat- tach you to the wildish instincts, and to elicit your original best. They guide the restoration of the intuitive life. And they are thrilled when you make contact with the doll, proud when you find the Baba Yaga, and rejoicing when they see you coming back with the fiery skull held out before you.”

“The Koran wisely advises that we will be called upon to account for all the permitted pleasures in life we did not enjoy while on earth.”

“I don't want to be transformed without first knowing in ab- solute detail what I will look like/feel like afterward."

“There is a vast difference between the need for solitude and re- newal, and the desire to "take space" to avoid the inevitable inter- course with Skeleton Woman. But intercourse, meaning exchange with and acceptance of the Life/Death/Life nature, is the next step in order to strengthen one's ability to love. Those who enter into rela- tionship with her will gain an enduring skill for love. Those who won't, won't. There is no way around it.4 All the "not readies," all the "I need times," are understandable, but only for a short while. The truth is that there is never a "completely ready," there is never a really "right time." As with any de- scent to the unconscious, there comes a time when one simply hopes for the best, pinches one's nose, and jumps into the abyss.”

“What must I give more death to today, in order to generate more life? What do I know should die, but am hesitant to allow to do so? What must die in me in order for me to love? What not-beauty do I fear? Of what use is the power of the not-beautiful to me today? What should die today? What should live? What life am I afraid to give birth to? If not now, when? If we sing the song of consciousness till we feel the burn of truth, we throw a burst of fire into the darkness of psyche so we can see what we're doing ... what we're truly doing, not what we wish to think we're doing. This is the untangling of one's feelings and the be- ginning of understanding why love and life are to be lived by the bones”

“This state of wise innocence is entered by shedding cynicism and protectionism, and by reentering the state of wonder one sees in most humans who are very young and many who are very old. It is a prac- rice of looking through the eyes of a knowing and loving spirit, in- stead of through those of the whipped dog, the hounded creature, the mouth atop a stomach, the angry wounded human. Innocence is a state that is renewed as one sleeps. Unfortunately, many throw it aside with the coverlet as they arise each day. It would be better to take an alert innocence with us and draw it close for warmth. Though an initial return to this state may require scraping away years of jaded viewpoints, decades of callous and carefully con- structed bulwarking, once one has returned one never has to pry for it, dig for it, ever again. To return to an alert innocence is not so much an effort, like moving a pile of bricks from here to there, as it is standing still long enough to let the spirit find you. It is said that all that you are seeking is also seeking you, that if you lie still, sit still, it will find you. It has been waiting for you a long time. Once it is here, don't move away. Rest. See what happens next.”

“When a life is too controlled, there becomes less and less life to control.”

“Through their bodies, women live very close to the Life/Death/Life nature. When women are in their right instinctual minds, their ideas and impulses to love, to create, to believe, to desire are born, have their time, fade and die, and are reborn again. One might say that women consciously or unconsciously practice this knowledge every moon cycle of their lives. For some this moon that tells the cycles is up in the sky. For others it is a Skeleton Woman who lives in their own psyches. From her very flesh and blood and from the constant cycles of fill- ing and emptying the red vase in her belly, a woman understands physically, emotionally, and spiritually that zeniths fade and expire, and what is left is reborn in unexpected ways and by inspired means, only to fall back to nothing, and yet be reconceived again in full glory.”

“It is good to master the first stages of meeting with the Life/Death/Life nature and let the literal body-to-body experiences come after. I caution women, do not en- gage a lover who wants to go from accidental catching to giving body. Insist on all the phases. Then the last phase will take care of it- self, the time of body union will come in its own right time. When the union is begun in the body phase, the process of facing the Life/Death/Life nature can still be accomplished later ... but it takes much more resolve. It is harder work, for the pleasure-ego must be dragged away from its carnal interest so that the foundation work can be done. The little dog in the Manawee story points out just how hard it is to remember what path one is on when one's nerves are be- ing thrummed by delight.”

“While we can interpret the mother in the story as symbolic of one's external mother, most who are grown up now have as a legacy from their actual mother, an internal mother. This is an aspect of psyche that acts and responds in a manner identical to a woman's experience in childhood with her own mother. Further, this internal mother is made from not only the experience of the personal mother but also other mothering figures in our lives, as well as the images held out as the good mother and the bad mother in the culture at the time of our childhoods. For most adults, if there was trouble with the mother once but there is no more, there is still a duplicate mother in the psyche who sounds, acts, responds the same as in early childhood. Even though a woman's culture may have evolved into more conscious reasoning about the role of mothers, the internal mother will have the same val- us and ideas about what a mother should look like, act like, as those in one's childhood culture.  In depth psychology, this entire maze is called the mother complex. It is one of the core aspects of a woman's psyche, and it is important to recognize its condition, strengthening certain aspects, arighting some, dismantling others, and beginning over again if necessary.”

“In most parts of industrialized countries today, the young moth er broods, births, and attempts to benefit her offspring all by her- self. It is a tragedy of enormous proportions. Because many women were born to fragile mothers, child-mothers, and unmothered moth ers, they may themselves possess a similar internal style of "self- mothering." The woman who has a child-mother or unmothered mother construct in her psyche, or glorified in the culture and maintained at work and in the family, is likely to suffer from naive presentiments, lack of seasoning, and in particular a weakened instinctual ability to imagine what will happen one hour, one week, one month, one year, five years, ten years from now. A woman with a child-mother within takes on the aura of a child pretending to be a mother, Women in this state often have an undif- ferentiated «long live everything" attitude, a "do everything, be ev- erything to everyone" brand of hyper-momism. They are not able to guide and support their children, but like the farmer's children in «The Ugly Duckling" story who are so thrilled to have a creature in the house but do not know how to give it proper care, the child- mother winds up leaving the child battered and bedraggled. Without realizing it, the child-mother tortures her offspring with various forms of destructive attention and in some cases lack of useful attention. Sometimes the frail mother is herself a swan who has been raised by ducks. She has not been able to find her true identity soon enough to benefit her offspring. Then, as her daughter comes upon the great mystery of the wildish nature of the feminine in adolescence, the mother too finds herself having sympathy pangs and swan urges.”

“The remedy is in gaining mothering for one's young internal mother. This is gained from actual women in the outer world who are older and wiser and preferably who have been tempered like steel; they are fire-hardened for having gone through what they have gone through. Regardless of the cost even now, their eyes see, their ears hear, their tongues speak, and they are kind. Even if you had the most wonderful mother in the world, you may eventually have more than one. As I have often told my own daugh- ters, "You are born to one mother, but if you are lucky, you will have more than one. And among them all you will find most of what you need." Your relationships with todas las madres, the many mothers, will most likely be ongoing ones, for the need for guidance and advisory is never outgrown, nor from the point of view of women’s deep creative life, should it ever be”

“the uncombed cat and the crocs-eyed hen find the duckling's aspirations stupid and nonsensical. It gives just the right perspective on the Wuhinessand the values of others who denigrate those who are not He hemselves. Who would expect a cat to like the water? Who would expect a hen to go swimming? No one, of course. But too of. jus, from the exile's point of view, when people are not alike, it is the exile who is inferior, and the limitations and/or motives of the other are not properly weighed or evaluated. Well, in the spirit of not wanting to make one person less and an- other person more, or any more than we have to for the purposes of discussion, let us just say that here the duckling has the same experi- ence that thousands of exiled women have--that of a basic incompat- ibility with dissimilar persons, which is no one's fault, even though most women are too obliging and take it on as though it is their fault personally. When this happens, we see women who are ready to apologize for taking up space. We see women who are afraid to just say "No, thank you," and leave. We see women who listen to someone telling them they are wrongheaded over and over again without understand- ing that cats don't swim and hens don't dive under water. I must admit, I sometimes find it useful in my practice to delineate the various typologies of personality as cats and hens and ducks and swans and so forth. If warranted, I might ask my client to assume for a moment that she is, a swan who does not realize it. Assume also for a moment that she has been brought up by or is currently sur- rounded by ducks. There is nothing wrong with ducks, I assure them, or with swans. But ducks are ducks and swans are swans. Sometimes to make the point I have to move to other animal metaphors. What if you were raised by the mice people? But what if you're, say, a swan. Swans and mice hate each other's food for the most part. They each think the Other smells funny. They are not interested in spending time together, and if they did, one would be constantly harassing the other. But what if you, being a swan, had to pretend you were a mouse? What if you had to pretend to be gray and furry and tiny? What if you had no long snaky tail to carry in the air on tail-carrying day?”

“I worked with a woman who was near the last straw and thinking in circles; suicide. A spider making its web on her porch caught her eye. Pre- e ground, cisely what it was in that wee beastie's act that chopped the ice as if ther around her soul so she could go free and grow again, we will never g up all know. But I am convinced, both as psychoanalyst and as cantadora, the ait, that many times it is the things of nature that are the most healing, and at especially the very accessible and the very simple ones. The medicines rough of nature are powerful and straightforward: a ladybug on the green g uP rind of a watermelon, a robin with a string of yarn, a weed in perfect lace, flower, a shooting star, even a rainbow in a glass shard in the street can be the right medicine. Continuance is a strange thing: it puts out this tremendous energy, it can be fed for a month on five minutes of con- it, templating quiet water.”

“There is probably no better or more reliable measure of whether a woman has spent time in ugly duckling status at some point or all throughout her life than her inability to digest a sincere compliment. Although it could be a matter of modesty, or could be attributed to shyness--although too many serious wounds are carelessly written off as "nothing but shyness"14_-more often a compliment is stuttered around about because it sets up an automatic and unpleasant dia- logue in the woman's mind. If you say how lovely she is, or how beautiful her art is, or com- pliment anything else her soul took part in, inspired, or suffused, something in her mind says she is undeserving and you, the complimentor, are an idiot for thinking such a thing to begin with. Rather than understand that the beauty of her soul shines through When she is being herself, the woman changes the subject and effec- tively snatches nourishment away from the soul-self, which thrives on being acknowledged, on being seen.”

“I have been taken with the way wolves hit their bodies together when they run and play, the old wolves in their way, the young ones in theirs, the skinny ones, the fat ones, the long-legged, the lop-tailed, the floppy-eared, the ones whose broken limbs healed crookedly. They all have their own body configurations and strengths, their own beauty. They live and play according to what and who and how they are. They do not try to be what they are not. Up in the northlands, I watched one old wolf who had only three legs; she was the only one who could fit through a crevasse where blueberries were branching. I once saw a gray wolf crouch and leap in such a flash it left the image of a silver arc in the air for a second afterward. I remember a delicate one, a new mother, still fulsome in the belly, picking her way through the pool moss with the grace of a dancer. Yet, despite their beauty and ability to stay strong, wolves are sometimes talked about in this way: "Ah, you are too hungry, your teeth are too sharp, your appetites too interested." Like wolves, women are sometimes discussed as though only a certain temperament, only a certain restrained appetite, is acceptable. And too often added to that is an attribution of moral goodness or badness accord. ing to whether a woman's size, height, gait, and shape conform to a singular or exclusionary ideal. When women are relegated to moods, mannerisms, and contours that conform to a single ideal of beauty and behavior, they are captured in both body and soul, and are no longer free. In the instinctive psyche, the body is considered a sensor, an infor- mational network, a messenger with myriad communication sys- tems-cardiovascular, respiratory, skeletal, autonomic, as well as emotive and intuitive. In the imaginal world, the body is a powerful vehicle, a spirit who lives with us, a prayer of life in its own right. In fairy tales, as personified by magical objects that have superhuman qualities and abilities, the body is considered to have two sets of ears, one for hearing in the mundane world, the other for hearing the soul; two sets of eyes, one set for regular vision, another for far-seeing; two kinds of strength, the strength of the muscles and the invincible strength of soul. The list of twos about the body goes on. In systems of body work such as Feldenkrais method, Ayurveda, and others, the body is understood variously as having six senses, not five. The body uses its skin and deeper fascia and flesh to record all that goes on around it. Like the Rosetta stone, for those who know how to read it, the body is a living record of life given, life taken, life hoped for, life healed. It is valued for its articulate ability to register immediate reaction, to feel profoundly, to sense ahead. The body is a multilingual being. It speaks through its color and its temperature, the flush of recognition, the glow of love, the ash of pain, the heat of arousal, the coldness of nonconviction. It speaks through its constant tiny dance, sometimes swaying, sometimes a-jitter, sometimes trembling. It speaks through the leaping of the heart, the falling of the spirit, the pit at the center, and rising hope. The body remembers, the bones remember, the joints remember, even the little finger remembers. Memory is lodged in pictures and feelings in the cells themselves. Like a sponge filled with water, any- where the flesh is pressed, wrung, even touched lightly, a memory may flow out in a stream. To confine the beauty and value of the body to anything less than this magnificence is to force the body to live without its rightful spirit, its rightful form, its right to exultation. To be thought ugly or unac- ceptable because one's beauty is outside the current fashion is deeply wounding to the natural joy that belongs to the wild nature.”

“While compulsive and destructive eating disorders that distort body size and body image are real and tragic, they are not the norm for most women. Women who are big or small, wide or narrow, short or tall, are most likely to be so simply because they inherited the body configuration of their kin; if not their immediate kin, then those a generation or two back. To malign or judge a woman's inherited physicality is to make generation after generation of anxious and neu- rotic women. To make destructive and exclusionary judgments about a woman's inherited form, robs her of several critical and precious psychological and spiritual treasures. It robs her of pride in the body pipe that was given to her by her own ancestral lines. If she is taught To revile this body inheritance, she is immediately slashed away from her female body identity with the rest of the family. If she is taught to hate her own body, how can she love her moth- er's body that has the same configuration as hers?'-her grand- mother's body, the bodies of her daughters as well? How can she love the bodies of other women (and men) close to her who have inherited the body shapes and configurations of their ancestors? To attack a woman thusly destroys her rightful pride of affiliation with her own people and robs her of the natural lilt she feels in her body no matter what height, size, shape she is. In essence, the attack on women's bodies is a far-reaching attack on the ones who have gone before her as well as the ones who will come after her.6 Instead, harsh judgments about body acceptability create a nation of hunched-over tall girls, short women on stilts, women of size dressed as though in mourning, very slender women trying to puff themselves out like adders, and various other women in hiding. De- stroying a woman's instinctive affiliation with her natural body cheats her of confidence. It causes her to perseverate about whether she is a good person or not, and bases her self-worth on how she looks in- stead of who she is. It pressures her to use up her energy worrying about how much food she consumes or the readings on the scale and tape measure. It keeps her preoccupied, colors everything she does, plans, and anticipates. It is unthinkable in the instinctive world that a woman should live preoccupied by appearance this way. It makes utter sense to stay healthy and strong, to be as nourishing to the body as possible.? Yet I would have to agree, there is in many women a "hungry" one inside. But rather than hungry to be a certain size, shape, or height, rather than hungry to fit the stereotype; women are hungry for basic regard from the culture surrounding them. The "hungry» one inside is longing to be treated respectfully, to be ac- cepted,® and in the very least, to be met without stereotyping. If there really is a woman "screaming to get out" she is screaming for cessa- tion of the disrespectful projections of others onto her body, her face, her age.”

“Yet, suffice it to say that various practitioners of psychology con. tinue to hand down this bias against the natural body, encouraging women to turn their attentions to a constant monitoring of body, thereby robbing them of deeper and finer relationships with their given form. Angst about the body robs a woman in some large share of her creative life and her attention to other things. This encouragement to begin trying to carve her body is remarka- bly similar to the carving, burning, peeling off layers, stripping down to the bones the flesh of the earth itself. Where there is a wound on the psyches and bodies of women, there is a corresponding wound at the same site in the culture itself, and finally on Nature herself. In a true holistic psychology all worlds are understood as interdependent, not as separate entities. It is not amazing that in our culture there is an issue about carving up a woman's natural body, that there is a cor- responding issue about carving up the landscape, and yet another about carving up the culture into fashionable parts as well. Although a woman may not be able to stop the dissection of culture and lands overnight, she can stop doing so to her own body. The wild nature would never advocate the torture of the body, cul- ture, or land. The wild nature would never agree to flog the form in order to prove worth, prove "control," prove character, be more vi- sully pleasing, more financially valuable. A woman cannot make the culture more aware by saying "Change." But she can change her own attitude toward herself, thereby causing devaluing projections to glance off. She does this by taking back her body. By not forsaking the joy of her natural body, by not purchasing the popular illusion that happiness is only be- stowed on those of a certain configuration or age, by not waiting of holding back to do anything, and by taking back her real life, and liv- ing it full bore, all stops out. This dynamic self-acceptance and self- esteem are what begins to change attitudes in the culture.”

“We tend to think of body as this "other" that does its thing somewhat without us, and that if we "treat" it right, it will make us "feel good." Many people treat their bodies as if the body is a slave, or perhaps they even treat it well but demand it follow their wishes and whims as though it were a slave nonetheless. Some say the soul informs the body. But what if we were to imag- ine for a moment that the body informs the soul, helps it adapt to mundane life, parses, translates, gives the blank page, the ink, and the pen with which the soul can write upon our lives? Suppose, as in fairy tales of the shapechangers, the body is a God in its own right, a teacher, a mentor, a certified guide? Then what? Is it wise to spend a lifetime chastising this teacher who has so much to give and teach? Do we wish to spend a lifetime allowing others to detract from our bodies, judge them, find them wanting? Are we strong enough to re- fute the party line and listen deep, listen true to the body as a pow- erful and holy being?13 The idea in our culture of body solely as sculpture is wrong. Body is not marble. That is not its purpose. Its purpose it to protect, con- tain, support, and fire the spirit and soul within it, to be a repository for memory, to fill us with feeling-_that is the supreme psychic nour- ishment. It is to lift us and propel us, to fill us with feeling to prove that we exist, that we are here, to give us grounding, heft, weight. It is wrong to think of it as a place we leave in order to soar to the spirit. The body is the launcher of those experiences.”

“remember, at bottom is where the living roots of psy. che are. It is there that a woman's wild underpinnings are. At bottom is the best soil to sow and grow something new again. In that sense, hitting bottom, while extremely painful, is also the sowing ground. Though we would never wish the poisonous red shoes and the sub- sequent decrease of life onto ourselves or others, there is in its fiery and destructive center a something that fuses fierceness to wisdom in the woman who has danced the cursed dance, who has lost herself and her creative life, who has driven herself to hell”

“In this tale, the old woman is a symbol of the rigid keeper of col. lective tradition, an enforcer of the unquestioned status quo, the "be- have yourself; don't make waves; don't think too hard; don't get big ideas; just keep a low profile; be a carbon copy; be nice; say yes even though you don't like it, it doesn't fit, it's not the right size, and it hurts.' And so on. To follow such a lifeless value system causes loss of soul-linkage in the extreme. Regardless of collective affiliations or influences, our challenge in behalf of the wild soul and our creative spirit is to not merge with any collective, but to distinguish ourselves from those who surround us, building bridges back to them as we choose. We de- cide which bridges will become strong and well traveled, and which will remain sketchy and empty. And the collectives we favor with re- lationship will be those that offer the most support for our soul and creative life. If a woman works at a university, she is in an academic collective. She is not to merge with whatever this collective environ may put forth, but add her own special flavor to it. As an integral creature, un- less she has created other strong things in her life to offset this, she cannot afford to deteriorate into a one-sided, peevish, "I do my job, go home, come back ..." kind of person. If a woman attempts to be a part of an organization, association, or family that neglects to peer into her to see what she is made of, one that fails to ask "What makes this person run?" and one that does not put forth effort to challenge or encourage her in any positive manner ... then her ability to thrive and create is diminished. The more harsh the circumstances, the more she is exiled to a salted barrens where nothing is allowed to grow. The separation of a woman's life and mind from flattened-out col- lective thinking and the development of her unique talents are among the most important accomplishments a woman can fashion, for these acts prevent both soul and psyche from sliding into enslavement. A culture that authentically promotes individual development will never make a slave class of any group or gender.”

“Overkill through excesses, or excessive behaviors, is acted out by women who are famished for a life that has meaning and makes sense for them. When a woman has gone without her cycles or creative needs for long periods of time, she begins a rampage of-you name it-alcohol, drugs, anger, spirituality, oppression of others, promiscu- ity, pregnancy, study, creation, control, education, orderliness, body fitness, junk food, to name a few areas of common excess. When women do this, they are compensating for the loss of regular cycles of self-expression, soul-expression, soul-satiation. The starving woman endures famine after famine. She may plan her escape, yet believe that the cost of fleeing is too high, that it will cost her too much libido, too much energy. She may be ill-prepared in other ways too, such as educationally, economically, spiritually. Unfortunately, the loss of treasure and the deep memory of famine may cause us to rationalize that excesses are desirable. And it is, of course, such a relief and a pleasure to finally be able to enjoy sensa- tion . . . any sensation. A woman newly free from famine just wants to enjoy life for a change. Her dulled perceptions about the emotional, rational, physi- cal, spiritual, and financial boundaries required for survival endanger her instead. For her there is a pair of poisonous red shoes glowing out there somewhere. She will take them wherever she finds them. That is the trouble with famine. If something looks like it will fill the yearn- ing, a woman will seize it, no questions asked.”

“Through wildlife studies of various species of captive animals, it was found that no matter how lovingly their zoo plazas are con- structed, no matter how much their human keepers love them, as in- deed they do, the creatures often become unable to breed, their appetites for food and rest become skewed, their vital behaviors dwindle to lethargy, sullenness, or untoward aggressiveness. Zoolo- gists call this behavior in captives "animal depression." Any time a creature is caged, its natural cycles of sleep, mate selection, estrus, grooming, parenting, and so forth deteriorate. As the natural cycles are lost, emptiness follows. The emptiness is not full, like the Bud- dhist concept of sacred void, but rather empty like being inside a sealed box with no windows.”

“sudden anxiety states that are similar to the symptoms animals display when they have been stunned by capture and trauma. Too much domestication breeds out strong and basic impulses to play, re- late, cope, rove, commune, and so forth. When a woman agrees to be- come too "well-bred" her instincts for these impulses drop down into her darkest unconscious, outside her automatic reach. She is said then to be instinct-injured. What should come naturally comes not at all, or after too much tugging, pulling, rationalizing, fighting with herself. When I speak of overdomestication as capture, I do not refer to so- cialization, the process whereby children are taught to behave in more or less civilized ways. Social development is critical and impor- tant. Without it, a woman cannot make her way in the world. But too much domestication is like forbidding the vital essence to dance. In its proper and healthy state, the wild self is not docile or vacuous. It is alert and responsive to any given movement or mo- ment. It is not locked into an absolute and repetitive pattern for any and all circumstances. It has creative choice. The instinct-iniured woman has no choice. She just stays stuck. There are many ways to be stuck. The instinct-injured woman usu- ally gives herself away because she has a difficult time asking for help or recognizing her own needs. Her natural instincts to fight or flee are drastically slowed or extincted. Recognition of the sensations of sati- ation, off-taste, suspicion, caution, and the drive to love fully and freely are inhibited or exaggerated. As in the tale, one of the most insidious attacks on the wild self is to be directed to perform properly, implying a reward will follow (if ever). Though this method may (I emphasize "may") temporarily per- suade a two-year-old to clean her room (no playing with toys until the bed is made) it will never, never work in a vital woman's life. While consistency, follow-through, and organization are all essential to implementing creative life, the old woman's injunction to «be proper" kills off any opportunity to expand. It is play, not properness, that is the central artery, the core, the brain stem of creative life. The impulse to play is an instinct. No play, no creative life. Be good, no creative life. Sit still, no creative life.”

“Injury to instinct cannot be underestimated as the root of the issue when women are acting mad, are possessed by obsession, or when they are stuck in less malignant but nevertheless destructive patterns. The repair of injured instinct begins with acknowledging that a cap ture has taken place, that a soul-famine has followed, that usual boundaries of insight and protection have been disturbed. The pro- cess that caused a woman's capture and the ensuing famine has to be reversed.”

“It is said that in the matriarchal cultures of ancient India, Beyp, parts of Asia, and Turkey- which are believed to have influenced ou concept of the feminine soul for thousands of miles in all directions- the bequeathing of henna and other red pigments to young girls, so that they could stain their feet with it, was a central feature in thresh. old rites." One of the most important threshold rites regarded first menstruation. This rite celebrated the crossing from childhood into the profound ability to bring forth life from one's own belly, to carry the attendant sexual power and all peripheral womanly powers. The ceremony was concerned with red blood in all its stages: the uterine blood of menstruation, delivery of a child, miscarriage, all running downward toward the feet. As you can see, the original red shoes had many meanings.”

“Though the values may change from culture to culture, thereby positing different "negatives" and "positives" in the shadow, typical impulses that are considered negative and therefore relegated to the shadowlands are those that encourage a person to steal, cheat, mur- der, act excessively in various ways, and so forth in that vein. The negative shadow aspects tend to be oddly exciting and yet entropic in nature, stealing balance and equanimity of mood and life from indi- viduals, relationships, and larger groups. The shadow also, however, can contain the divine, the luscious, beautiful, and powerful aspects of personhood. For women especially, the shadow almost always contains very fine aspects of being that are forbidden or given little support by her culture. At the bottom of the well in the psyches of too many women lies the visionary creator, the astute truth-teller, the far-seer, the one who can speak well of herself without denigration, who can face herself without cringing, who works to perfect her craft. The positive impulses in shadow for women in our culture most often revolve around permission for the creation of a handmade life.”

“When a woman pretends to press her life down into a nice tidy lit- tle package, all she accomplishes is spring-loading all her vital enerey down into shadow. "Fine, I'm fine," such a woman says. We look at her across the room or in the mirror. We know she is not fine. Then one day, we hear she has taken up with a piccolo player and has run off to Tippicanoe to be a pool hall queen. And we wonder what hap- pened, because we know she hates piccolo players and always wanted to live on Orcas Island, not in Tippicanoe, and she never before men- tioned anything about pool halls. Like Hedda Gabler in Henrik Ibsen's play, the wildish woman can pretend to live "an ordinary life" while gritting her teeth, but there is always a price to pay. Hedda sneaks a passionate and dangerous life, playing games with an ex-lover and with Death. Outwardly, she pre- tends to be content wearing bonnets and listening to her dry husband cavil about his dusty life. A woman can be outwardly polite and even cynical, but inwardly hemorrhaging. Or, like Janis Joplin, a woman can try to comply until she can't stand it any longer, and then her creative nature, corroded and sick- ened by being forced into the shadow, erupts violently to rebel against the, tenets of "breeding" in reckless ways that disregard one's gifts and one's very life.”

“Captured and starved women sneak all kinds of things: they sneak unsanctioned books and music, they sneak friendships, sexual feeling, religious affiliation. They sneak furtive thinking, dreams of revolu- tion. They sneak time away from their mates and families. They sneak a treasure into the house. They sneak their writing time, their thinking time, their soul-time. They sneak a spirit into the bedroom, a poem before work, they sneak a skip or an embrace when no one's looking. To detour off this polarized path, a woman has to surrender the pretense. Sneaking a counterfeit soul-life never works. It always blows out the sidewall when you're least expecting it. Then it's misery all around. It's better to get up, stand up, no matter how homemade your platform, and live the most you can, the best you can, and forgo the sneaking of counterfeits. Hold out for what has real meaning and health for you.”

“You see, there is something in the wild soul that will not let us sub- st forever on piecemeal intake. Because in actuality, it is impossible for the woman who strives for consciousness to sneak little sniffs of good air and then be content with no more. Remember when you were a child and you found out that you couldn't do yourself in by holding your breath? Though you might try to get by on just a little air or no air at all, some big fist bellows takes over, something fierce and demanding that makes you eventually shovel the air in as fast as you can. You gulp it, bite it down until you are breathing fully again. Blessedly, there is something like that in the soul/psyche as well. It takes us over and forces us to take full breaths of good air. Truly, we know that we can not really subsist on sneaking little sips of life. The wild force in a woman's soul demands that she have access to it all. We can stay alert and take in the things that are right for us.”

“But the wild nature teaches that we meet challenges as they occur. When wolves are badgered, they don't say, "Oh, no! Not again!" They bound, pounce, run, dive, scramble, play dead, go for the throat, whatever needs to be done. So we cannot be shocked that there is entropy, deterioration, hard times. Let us understand that the issues that entrap women's joy will always shift and shape-change, but in our own essential natures we find the absolute stamina, the necessary libido for all necessary acts of heart.”

“Thing to be good, orderly, and compliant in the face of inner or outer perl or in order to hide a critical psychic or real-life situation Setous a woman. le cuts her from her knowing; it cuts her from her babity to act. Like the child in the tale, who does not object out loud, who ties to hide her starvarion, who tries to make it seem as though nothing is burning in her, modern women have the same disorder, normalizing the abnormal. This disorder is rampant across cultures. Normalizing the abnormal causes the spirit, which would normally leap to correct the situation, to instead sink into ennui, complacency, and eventually, like the old woman, into blindness. There's an important study that gives insight into women's loss of self protective instinct. In the early 1960s, scientistsl6 conducted ani- mal experiments to determine something about the "flight instinct" in humans. In one experiment they wired half the bottom of a large cage, so that a dog placed in the cage would receive a shock each time it set foot on the right side. The dog quickly learned to stay on the left side of the cage. Next, the left side of the cage was wired for the same purpose and the right side was safe from shocks. The dog reoriented quickly and learned to stay on the right side of the cage. Then, the entire floor of the cage was wired to give random shocks, so that no matter where the dog lay or stood it would eventually receive a shock. The dog acted confused at first, and then it panicked. Finally the dog "gave up" and lay down, taking the shocks as they came, no longer trying to escape them or outsmart them.”

“We can see from similar events that have occurred over our life- times that when women do not speak, when not enough people speak, the voice of the Wild Woman becomes silent, and therefore the world becomes silent of the natural and wild too. Silent, eventually, of wolf and bear and raptors. Silent of singings and dancings and cre- ations. Silent of loving, repairing, and holding. Bereft of clear air and water and the voices of consciousness. But back in those times, and too often today, even though women were infused with a yearning for a wild freedom, they continued out- wardly to rub SOS on porcelain, using caustic cleansers, staying, as Sylvia Plath put it, "tied to their Bendix washing machines." There they washed and rinsed their clothes in water too hot for human touch and dreamed of a different world.19 When the instincts are in- jured, humans will "normalize" assault after assault, acts of injustice and destruction toward themselves, their offspring, their loved ones, their land, and even their Gods.”

“Psychically, it is good to make a halfway place, a way station, a considered place in which to rest and mend after one escapes a fam- ine. It is not too much to take one year, two years, to assess one's wounds, seek guidance, apply the medicines, consider the future. A year or two is scant time. The feral woman is a woman making her way back. She is learning to wake up, pay attention, stop being naive, uninformed. She takes her life in her own hands. To re-learn the deep feminine instincts, it is vital to see how they were decommissioned to begin with. Whether the injuries be to your art, words, lifestyles, thoughts, or ideas, and if you have knitted yourself up into a many-sleeved sweater, cut through the tangle now and get on with it. Beyond desire and wishing, beyond the carefully reasoned methods we love to talk and scheme over, there is a simple door waiting for us to walk through. On the other side are new feet. Go there. Crawl there if need be. Stop talking and obsessing. Just do it. We cannot control who brings us into this world. We cannot influ- ence the fluency with which they raise us; we cannot force the culture in instantlv become hospitable. But the good news is that, even after injury, even in a feral state, even, for that matter, in an as yet cap. tured state, we can have our lives back. The psychological soul-plan for coming back into one's own is as follows: Take extra special caution and care to loose yourself into the wild gradually, setting up ethical and protective structures by which you gain tools to measure when something is too much. (You are usu- ally already very sensitive to when something is too little.) So the return to the wild and free psyche must be made with bold- ness, but also with consideration. In psychoanalysis we are fond of saying that to be trained as a healer/helper it is as important to learn what not to do as it is to learn what to do. To return to the wild from captivity carries the same caveats. Let us take a closer look. The pitfalls, traps, and poisoned baits laid out for the wildish woman are specific to her culture. Here I have listed those that are common to most cultures. Women from differing ethnic and religious backgrounds will have additional specific insights. In a symbolic sense, we are composing a map of the woods in which we live. We are delineating where the predators live and describing their modi operandi. It is said that a single wolf knows every creature in her ter- ritory for miles around. It is this knowledge that gives her the edge in living as freely as possible. Regaining lost instinct and healing injured instinct is truly within one's reach, for it returns when a woman pays close attention through listening, looking, and sensing the world around herself, and then by acting as she sees others act; efficiently, effectively, and soul fully. The opportunity to observe others who have instincts well in- tact is central to retrieval.”

“If you are striving to do something you value, it is so important to surround yourself with people who unequivocally support your work. It is both a trap and a poison to have so-called friends who have the same injuries but no real desire to heal them. These kinds of friends encourage you to act outrageously, outside of your natural cycles, out of sync with your soul-needs. A feral woman cannot afford to be naive. As she returns to her in- nate life, she must consider excesses with a skeptical eye and be aware of their costs to soul, psyche, and instinct. Like the wolf pups, we memorize the traps, how they are made, and how they are laid. That is the way we remain free. Even so, lost instincts do not recede without leaving echoes and trails of feeling, which we can follow to claim them again. Though a woman may be held in the velvet fist of propriety and stricture, whether she is one breath away from destruction through excesses or has just begun to dive into them, she can still hear whispers of the wild God in her blood. Even in these worst circumstances as por- trayed in "The Red Shoes," even the most injured instincts can be healed. To aright all this, we resurrect the wild nature, over and over again, each time the balance tips too far in one direction or another. We will know when there is reason for concern, for generally balance makes our lives larger and imbalance makes our lives smaller. One of the most important things we can do is to understand life, all life, as a living body in itself, one that has respiration, new cell turnover, sloughing off, and waste material. It would be silly if we ex- pected our bodies not to have waste material more than once every five years. It would be inane to think that just because we ate a day ago we shouldn't be hungry today. It is just as fatuous to think that once we solve an issue it stays resolved, that once we learn, we always remain conscious ever after. No, life is a great body that grows and diminishes in different areas, at different rates. When we are like the body, doing the work of new growth, wading through la mierda, the shit, just breathing or resting, we are very alive, we are within the cycles of the Wild Woman. If we could realize that the work is to keep doing the work, we would be much more fierce and much more peaceful. To hold to joy, we may sometimes have to fight for it, we may have to strengthen ourselves and go full-bore, doing battle in whichever ways we deem most shrewd. To prepare for siege, we may have to go without many comforts for the duration.”

“There is human time and there is wild time. When I was a child in the north woods, before I learned there were four seasons to a year, I thought there were dozens; the time of night-time thunderstorms, heat lightning time, bonfires-in-the-woods time, blood-on-the-snow time, the times of ice trees, bowing trees, crying trees, shimmering trees, breaded trees, waving-at-the-tops-only trees, and trees-drop- their-babies time. I loved the seasons of diamond snow, steaming snow, squeaking snow, and even dirty snow and stone snow, for these meant the time of flower blossoms on the river was coming. These seasons were like important and holy visitors and each sent its harbingers: pine cones open, pine cones closed, the smell of leaf rot, the smell of rain coming, crackling hair, lank hair, bushy hair, doors loose, doors tight, doors that won't shut at all, windowpanes covered with ice-hair, windowpanes covered with wet petals, win- dowpanes covered with yellow pollen, windowpanes pecked with sap gum. And our own skin had its cycles too: parched, sweaty, gritty, sunburned, soft. The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying”

“One of the central and most potentially destructive issues women face is that of beginning various psychological initiation processes with initiators who have not completed the process themselves. They have no seasoned persons who know how to proceed. When initiators are incompletely initiated themselves, they omit important aspects of the process without realizing it, and sometimes visit great abuse on the initiate, for they are working with a fragmentary idea of initiation, one that is often tainted in one way or another.+ At the other end of the spectrum is the woman who has experienced theft, and who is striving for knowledge and mastery of the situation, but who has run out of directions and does not know there is more to practice in order to complete the learning, and so repeats the first stage, that of being stolen from, over and over again. Through whatever cir- cumstances, she has gotten tangled in the reins. Essentially, she is with- out instruction. Instead of discovering the requirements of a healthy wildish soul, she becomes a casualty of an uncompleted initiation. Because matrilineal lines of initiation-older women teaching younger women certain psychic facts and procedures of the wild teminine- have been fragmented and broken for so many women and Over so many years, it is a blessing to have the archeology of the fairy tale to learn from. What can be derived from those deep templates echoes the innate patterns of women's most integral psychological processes. In this sense, fairy tales and mythos are initiators; they are the wise ones who teach those who have come after.”

“We lose the soulskin by becoming too involved with ego, by being too exacting, perfectionistic," or unnecessarily martyred, or driven by a blind ambition, or by being dissatisfied--about self, family, commu- nity, culture, world--and not saying or doing anything about it, or by pretending we are an unending source for others, or by not doing all we can to help ourselves. Oh, there are as many ways to lose the soulskin as there are women in the world. The only way to hold on to this essential soulskin is to retain an exquisitely pristine consciousness about its value and uses. But, since no one can consistently maintain acute consciousness, no one can keep the soulskin absolutely every moment day and night. But we can keep the theft of it to a bare minimum. We can develop that ojo agudo, the shrewd eye that watches the conditions all around and guards our psychic territory accordingly. The "Sealskin, Soulskin" story, however, is about an instance of what we might call aggravated theft. This big theft can, with consciousness, be mediated in the fu- ture if we will pay attention to our cycles and the call to take leave and return home. Every creature on earth returns to home. It is ironic that we have made wildlife refuges for ibis, pelican, egret, wolf, crane, deer, mouse, moose, and bear, but not for ourselves in the places where we live day after day. We understand that the loss of habitat is the most disas- trous event that can occur to a free creature. We fervently point out how other creatures' natural territories have become surrounded by cities, ranches, highways, noise, and other dissonance, as though we are not surrounded by the same, as though we are not affected also. We know that for creatures to live on, they must at least from time to time have a home place, a place where they feel both protected and free.”

“In Jungian psychology, the ego is often described as a small island of consciousness that floats in a sea of unconsciousness. However, in folklore the ego is portrayed as a creature of appetite, often symbol- ized by a not very bright human or animal surrounded by forces very mystifying to it, and over which it attempts to gain control. Some- times the ego is able to gain control in a most brutish and destructive manner, but in the end, through the heroine's or hero's progress, it most often loses its bid to reign. In the beginning of one's life, the ego is curious about the soul- world, but more often it is concerned with fulfilling its own hungers. The ego is initially born into us as potential, and is shaped, devel- oped, and filled up with ideas, values, and duties by the world around us: our parents, our teachers, our culture. And this is as it should be, for it becomes our escort, our armor, and our scout in the outer world. However, if the wildish nature is not allowed to emanate up- ward through the ego, giving it color, juice, and instinctive respon- siveness, then although the culture may approve of what has been fashioned in this ego, the soul does not, cannot, will not approve such incompleteness of its work. The lonely man in the tale is attempting to participate in the life of the soul. But like the ego, he is not particularly built for it, and tries to grab at the soul rather than develop a relationship with it. Why does the ego steal the sealskin? Like all other lonely or hungry things, it loves the light. It sees light, and the possibility of being close to the soul, and it creeps up to it and steals one of its essential camouflages. Ego cannot help itself. It is what it is; attracted to the light. Even though it cannot live under the water, it has its own yearning for re lationship with the soul. The ego is crude in comparison to the soul. Its way of doing things is usually not evocative or sensitive. But it has a tiny and dimly understood longing for the beautiful light. And this, in some way and for some time, calms the ego.”

“They are dying for new life. They are panting for the sea. They are living just for next month, just till this semesters past, can't wait till winter is finally over so they can feel alive again, just waiting for a mystically  assigned date somewhere in the future when they will be free to do some wondrous thing. They think they will die if they don’t..... you fill in the blank. And there is a quality of mourning to it all.  There is angst. There is bereftness. There is wistfulness. There is a longing. There is plucking at threads in one's skirt and staring long from windows. And it is not a temporary discomfort. It stays, and grows more and more intense over time. Yet women continue in their day-to-day routines, looking shepist, acting guilty and smirky. "Yes, yes, yes, I know," they say. "I should, but, but, but . » It is the buts" in their sentences that are the dead giveaways that they have stayed too long. An incompletely initiated woman in this depleted state erroneously thinks she is deriving more spiritual credit by staying than she thinks she will gain by going. Others are caught up in, as they say in Mex- ico, dar a algo un tirón fuerte, always tugging at the sleeve of the Vir- gin, meaning they are working hard and ever harder to prove that they are acceptable, that they are good people. But there are other reasons for the divided woman. She is not used to letting others take the oars. She may be a practitioner of "kid lit which is a litany that goes like this: "But my kids need this, my kids need that, etcetera."12 She does not realize that by sacrificing her need for return, she teaches her children to make the very same sat- rifices of their own needs once they are grown. Some women are afraid that those around them will not under stand their need for return. And not all may. But the woman mut understand this herself: When a woman goes home according to het Own cycles, others around her are given their own individuaticn work, their own vital issues to deal with. Her return to home allows others growth and development too.”

“There are many ways to go home; many are mundane, some are di- vine. My clients tell me these mundane endeavors constitute a return to home for them . . . although I caution you, the exact placement of the aperture to home changes from time to time, so its location may be different this month than last. Rereading passages of books and single poems that have touched them. Spending even a few minutes near a river, a stream, a creek. Lying on the ground in dappled light. Being with a loved one without kids around. Sitting on the porch shelling something, knitting something, peeling something. Walking or driving for an hour, any direction, then returning. Boarding any bus, destination unknown. Making drums while listening to music. Greeting sunrise. Driving out to where the city lights do not interfere with the night sky. Praying. A special friend. Sitting on a bridge with legs dangling over. Holding an infant. Sitting by a window in a café and writing. Sitting in a circle of trees. Drying hair in the sun. Putting hands in a rain barrel. Potting plants, being sure to get hands very muddy. Beholding beauty, grace, the touching frailty of human beings. So, it is not necessarily an overland and arduous journey to go home, yet I do not want to make it seem that it is simplistic, for there Is much resistance to going home no matter if it be easy or hard.”

“The great healer archetype carries wisdom, goodness, knowing, caregiving, and all the other things associated with a healer. So, it is good to be generous and kind and helpful like the great healer arche- type. But only to a point. Beyond that, it exerts a hindering influence on our lives. Women's "heal everything, fix everything" compulsion is a major entrapment constructed by the requirements placed upon us by our own cultures, mainly pressures to prove that we are not just standing around taking up space and enjoying ourselves, but that we have redeemable value-_in some parts of the world, it is fair to say, to prove that we have value and therefore should be allowed to live. These pressures are introduced into our psyches when we are very young and unable to judge or resist them. They become law to us. unless or until we challenge them. But the cries of the suffering world cannot all be answered by a sin- gle person all the time. We can truly only choose to respond to those that allow us to go home on a regular basis, otherwise our heart- lights dim to almost nothing. What the heart wishes to help is some- times different from what the soul's resources be. If a woman values her soulskin, she will decide these matters according to how close she is to and how often she has been "home." While archetypes may emanate through us for short periods of time, in what we call numinous experience, no woman can emanate an archetype continuously. Only the archetype itself can be ever-able, all giving, eternally energetic. We may try to emulate these, but they are ideals, not achievable by humans, and not meant to be.”

“Women I've worked with who have not been home in twenty or more years always weep upon first setting foot on that psychic ground again. For various reasons, which seemed like good ones at the time, they spent years accepting permanent exile from the home- land; they forgot how immensely good it is for rain to fall on dry earth. For some, home is the taking up of an endeavor of some sort. Women begin to sing again after years of finding reason not to. They commit themselves to learn something they've been heartfelt about for a long time. They seek out the lost people and things in their lives. They take back their voices and write. They rest. They make some corner of the world their own. They execute immense or intense de- cisions. They do something that leaves footprints. For some, home is a forest, a desert, a sea. In truth, home is holo- graphic. It is carried at full power in even a single tree, a solitarv cactus in a plant shop window, a pool of still water.”

“For how long does one go home? As long as one can or until you have yourself back again. How often is it needed? Far more often if you are a “sensitive” and are very active in the outer world. Less so if you have thick skin and are not so “out there.” Each woman knows in her heart how often and how long is needed. It is a matter of assessing the condition of the shine in one’s eyes, the vibrancy of one’s mood, the vitality of one’s senses. How do we balance the need to go home with our daily lives? We pre-plan home into our lives. It is always amazing how easily women can “take time away” if there is illness, if a child needs them, if the car breaks down, if they have a toothache. Going home has to be given the same value, even stated in crisis proportions if necessary. For it is unequivocally true, if a woman doesn’t go when it’s her time to go, the hairline crack in her soul/psyche becomes a ravine, and the ravine becomes a roaring abyss. If a woman absolutely values her going-home cycles, those around her will also learn to value them. It is true that significant “home” can be reached by taking time away from the click-clack of daily rou­ tine, time that is inviolate and solely for ourselves. “Solely for our­ selves” means different things to different women. For some being in a room with the door closed, but still being accessible to others, is a fine return to home. For others though, the place from which to dive to home needs to be without even a tiny interruption. No “Mommy, Mommy, where are my shoes?” No “Honey, do we need anything from the grocery store?” For this woman, the inlet to her deep home is evoked by silence. No me molestes. Utter Silence, with a capital U and a capital S. For her, the sound of wind through a great loom of trees is silence. For her, the crash of a mountain stream is silence. For her, thunder is si­ lence. For her, the natural order of nature, which asks nothing in re­ turn, is her life-giving silence. Each woman chooses both as she can and as she must. Regardless of your home time, an hour or days, remember, other people can pet your cats even though your cats say only you can do it right. Your dog will try to make you think you are abandoning a child on the highway, but will forgive you. The grass will grow a little brown but it will revive.”

“In order to converse with the wild feminine, a woman must tempo rarily leave the world and inhabit a state of aloneness in the oldest sense of the word. Long ago the word alone was treated as two words, all one 20 To be all one meant to be wholly one, to be in one- ness, either essentially or temporarily. That is precisely the goal of sol. itude, to be all one. It is the cure for the frazzled state so common to modern women, the one that makes her, as the old saying goes, "leap onto her horse and ride off in all directions." Solitude is not an absence of energy or action, as some believe, but is rather a boon of wild provisions transmitted to us from the soul. In ancient times, as recorded by physician-healers, religious and mys- tics, purposeful solitude was both palliative and preventative. It was used to heal fatigue and to prevent weariness. It was also used as an oracle, as a way of listening to the inner self to solicit advice and guidance otherwise impossible to hear in the din of daily life. Women from ancient times as well as modern aboriginal women often set a sacred place aside for this communion and inquiry. Tradi- tionally it is said to have been set aside during women's menses, for during that time a woman lives much closer to self-knowing than usual; the membrane between the unconscious and the conscious minds thins considerably. Feelings, memories, sensations that are nor- mally blocked from consciousness pass over into cognizance without resistance: When a woman takes solitude during this time, she has more material to sift through.”

“For myself, solitude is rather like a folded-up forest that I carry with me everywhere and unfurl around myself when I have need. I sit at the feet of the great old trees of my childhood. From that vantage point, I ask my questions, receive my answers, then coalesce my woodland back down to the size of a love note till next time. The experience is immediate, brief, informative. Truly the only thing one needs for intentional solitude is the ability to tune out distractions. A woman can learn to detach from other people, noise, and chatter, no matter if she is in the midst of a con- tentious board meeting, no matter if she is being stalked by a house that needs to be cleaned by bulldozer, no matter if she is surrounded by eighty loquacious relatives, fighting, singing, and dancing their way through a three-day wake. If you have ever been a teenager, you definitely know how to tune out. If you have ever been the mother of an insomniac two-year-old, you know how to take intentional soli- tude. It is not hard to do, just hard to remember to do.”

“Because it is considered such an untoward thing, we have learned to camouflage this interval of soulful communication by naming it in very mundane terms. So, it has been named thusly: "talking to oneself," being "lost in thought," "staring off into space," or "day- dreaming." This euphemistic language is inculcated by many seg ments of our culture, for unfortunately, we are taught from childhood onward to feel embarrassment if found communing with soul, and es- pecially in pedestrian environments such as work or school. Somehow, the educational and business world has felt that such time spent at being "all one," is unproductive, when in fact it is the most fecund. It is the wild soul who channels ideas into our imagina- tion, whereupon we sort through these to find which we will imple- ment, which are most applicable and productive. It is commingling with soul that causes us to glow bright with spirit, willing to assert our talents, whatever they might be. It is that brief, even momentary, but intentional union that supports us to live out our inner lives so that instead of burying them in the self-inversion of shame, fear of re- prisal or attack, lethargy, complacency, or other limiting reasonings and excuses, we let our inner lives wave, flare, blaze on the outside for all to see.”

“Alternatively the voices may whisper, "Only if you have a doctor- ate degree will your work be decent, only if you are lauded by the Queen, only if you receive such and such award, only if you are pub- lished in such and such magazine, only if, if, if." This only-iffing is like stuffing the soul with junk food. It is one thing to be fed with any old thing; it is quite another to be truly nour- ished. Most often the logic of the complex is extremely faulty, even though it will try to convince you otherwise. One of the greatest problems of the creative complex is the accusa- tion that whatever you're doing won't work because you're not think- ing logically, you're not being logical, what you have done so far isn't logical and is therefore doomed to failure. First of all, the primary stages of creating are not logical--nor should they be. If the complex succeeds in stopping you with this, it has you. Tell it to sit down and be quiet or go away till you're done. Remember, if logic were all there really was to the world, then surely all men would ride sidesaddle. I've seen women work long, long hours at jobs they despise in or- der to buy very expensive items for their houses, mates, or children. They put their considerable talents on the back burner. I've seen women insist on cleaning everything in the house before they could sit down to write ... and you know it's a funny thing about house cleaning . . . it never comes to an end. Perfect way to stop a woman. A woman must be careful to not allow over-responsibility (or over- respectability) to steal her necessary creative rests, riffs, and raptures. She simply must put her foot down and say no to half of what she be- lieves she "should" be doing. Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.”

“It may also be that a woman's creative process is misunderstood or disrespected by those around her. It is up to her to inform them that when she has "that look" in her eyes, it does not mean she is a vacant lot waiting to be filled. It means she is balancing a big cardhouse of ideas on a single fingertip, and she is carefully connecting all the cards using tiny crystalline bones and a little spit, and if she can just get it all to the table without it falling down or flying apart, she can bring an image from the unseen world into being. To speak to her in that moment is to create a Harpy wind that blows the entire structure to tatters. To speak to her in that moment is to break her heart. And yet, a woman may do this to herself by talking away her ideas until all the arousal is gone from them, or by not putting her foot down about people creeping off with her creative tools and materials, or by the simple oversight of not buying the right equipment to exe- cute the creative work properly, or by stopping and starting so many times, by allowing everyone and their cat to interrupt her at will, that the project falls into a shambles. If the culture in which a woman lives attacks the creative function of its members, if it splits or shatters any archetype or perverts its de- sign or meaning, these will be incorporated in their broken state into the psyches of its members in the same way; as a broken-winged force rather than a hale one filled with vitality and possibility.”

“Begin; this is how to clear the polluted river. If you're scared, seared to fail, I say begin already, fail if you must, pick yourself up, start again. If you fail again, you fail. So what? Begin again. It is not the failure that holds us back but the reluctance to begin over again that causes us to stagnate. If you're scared, so what? If you're afraid something's going to leap out and bite you, then for heaven's sake, get it over with already. Let your fear leap out and bite you so you can get it over with and go on. You will get over it. The fear will pass. In this case, it is better if you meet it head-on, feel it, and get it over with, than to keep using it to avoid cleaning up the river. Protect your time; this is how to banish pollutants. I know a fierce painter here in the Rockies who hangs this sign on the chain that closes off the road to her house when she is in a painting or thinking mode: "I am working today and am not receiving visitors. I know you think this doesn't mean you because you are my banker, agent, or best friend. But it does." Another sculptor I know hangs this sign on her gate: "Do not dis turb unless I've won the lottery or Jesus has been sighted on the Old Taos Highway." As you can see, the well-developed animus has excel- lent boundaries. Stay with it. How to further banish this pollution? By insisting nothing will stop us from exercising the well-integrated animus, by continuing our soul-spinning, wing-making ventures, our art, our Psychic mending and sewing, whether we feel strong or not, whether we feel ready or not. If necessary by tying ourselves to the mast, the chair, the desk, the tree, the cactus--wherever we create. It is essen- tial, even though often painful, to put in the necessary time, to not skirt the difficult tasks inherent in striving for mastery. A true creative life burns in more ways than one. Negative complexes that arise along the way are banished or transformed--your dreams will guide you the last part of the way-by putting your foot down, once and for all, and by saying, "I love my creative life more than I love cooperating with my own op pression." If we were to abuse our children, Social Services would show up at our doors. If we were to abuse our pets, the Humane So- city would come to take us away. But there is no Creativity Patrol”

“I saw how ladylikeness in the wrong situation actually throttled a woman rather than allowing her to breathe. To laugh you have to be able to exhale and take another breath in quick succession. We know from kinesiology and various other body therapies such as Hakomi, that to take a breath causes one to feel one’s emotions, that when we wish not to feel, we hold our breath instead. In laughter, a woman breathes fully, and when she does, she may begin to feel unsanctioned feelings. And what could these feelings be? Well, they turn out not to be feelings so much as relief and remedies for feelings, often causing the release of stopped-up tears or the rec­ lamation of forgotten memories, or the bursting of chains on the sen­ sual personality.”

“In Buddhism there is a questing action called nyübu, which means to go into the mountains in order to understand oneself and to re- make one's connections to the Great. It is a very old ritual related to the cycles of preparing the earth, sowing, and harvesting. While it might be good to go into the real mountains if possible, there are also mountains in the underworld, in one's own unconscious, and luckily, we all carry the entrance to the underworld right in our own psyches, so we can go into the mountains for renewal with dispatch. In mythos, a mountain is sometimes understood as a symbol de- scribing the levels of mastery one must attain before one can ascend to the next level. The lowest part of the mountain, the foothills, often represents the urge toward consciousness. All that occurs in the foot- hills is thought of in terms of maturing consciousness. The middle part of the mountain is often thought of as the steeping part of the process, the part that tests the knowledge learned at lower levels. The higher mountain represents intensified learning; the air is thin there, it takes endurance and determination to stay at the tasks. The peak of the mountain represents confrontation with the ultimate wisdom, such as that in mythos wherein the old woman lives atop the moun- tain, or as in this story, the wise old bruin. So, it is good to take to the mountain when we don't know what else to do. When we are drawn to quests we know little about, this makes life and develops soul. In climbing the unknown mountain we gain true knowledge of the instinctive psyche and the creative acts of which it is capable--that is our goal. Learning occurs differently for each person. But the instinctual viewpoint that emanates from the wild unconscious, and that is cyclical, begins to be the only one that makes sense of and gives meaning to life, our lives. It unerringly in- forms us about what to do next. Where can we find this process that will free us? On the mountain.”

“We can have all the knowledge in the universe, and it comes down to one thing: practice. It comes down to going home and step-by-step implementing what we know. As often as nec- essary, and for as long as possible, or forever, whichever comes first. It is very reassuring to know that when one is in a burgeoning rage one knows precisely and with the skill of a craftswoman what to do about it: wait it out, release illusions, take it for a climb on the moun- tain, speak with it, respect it as a teacher. We are given many markers in this story, many ideas about coming to balance: making patience, giving the enraged one kindness and time to get over his rage through introspection and questing. There is an old saying: Before Zen, mountains were mountains and trees were trees. During Zen, mountains were thrones of the spirits and trees were the voices of wisdom. After Zen. mountains were mountains and trees were trees. While the woman was on the mountain, learning, everything was magic. Now that she is off the mountain, the so-called magical hair has been burned in the fire that destroys illusion, and now it is time for "after Zen." Life is supposed to become mundane again. Yet she has the bounty of her experience on the mountain. She has knowing. The energy that was bound up in rage can be used for other things. Now a woman who has come to terms with rage returns to mun- dane life with new knowing, a new sense that she can more artfully live her life. Yet one day in the future, a something--a look, a word, a tone of voice, a feeling of being patronized, unappreciated, or ma- nipulated against one's will, one of these--will crop up again. Then her residue of pain will catch fire."

“Rage left over from old injuries can be compared to the trauma of a shrapnel wound. One can pick out almost all the pieces of shattered metal from the missile, but the tiniest shards remain. One would think that if most are out, that would be that. Not so. On some oc- casions, those tiniest shards twist and turn within and cause an ache that feels like the original wounding (rage rising up) all over again. But it is not the original and vast rage that causes this welling up, it is the very small particles of it, the irritants still left in the psyche that can never be fully excised. These cause a pain that is almost as intense as that of the original injury.”

“They are involved in drastic maneuvers on three fronts: one in trying to contain the outside event, one in attempting to contain the pain broadcasting from the old injury inside, and one trying to secure safety of position by running, head down in a psychological crouch. It is too much to ask a single individual to take on the equivalent of a gang of three and try to KO all of them at one time. That is why it is imperative to stop in the midst of it all, withdraw, and take sol- itude. It is too much to try to fight and handle feeling gut-shot at the same time. A woman who has climbed the mountain withdraws, deals with the older event first, then the more recent event, decides her position, shakes out her ruff, puts up her ears, and goes back out to act with dignity.”

“None of us can entirely escape our history. We can certainly put it in the background, but it is there nevertheless. However, if you will do these things for yourself, you will bridge the rage and eventually everything will calm down and be fine. Not perfect, but fine. You'll be able to move ahead. The time of the shrapnel rage will be over. You'll handle it better and better each time because you'll know when it is time to call in the healer again, to climb the mountain, release yourself from the illusions that the present is an exact and calculated replay of the past. A woman remembers that she can be both fierce and generous at the same time. Rage is not like a kidney stone-it you wait long enough, it will pass. No, no. You must take right ac- tion. Then it will pass, and more creation will come to your life.”

“But in the story, the mill is not milling. The psyche's miller is unemployed. This means nothing is being done with all the raw material that comes into our lives on a daily basis, and that no sense is being made of all the grains of knowing that blow into our faces from the world and from the underworld. If the miller has no work, the psy- che has stopped nourishing itself in critically important ways. The milling of grain has to do with the creative urge. For whatever reason, the creative life of a woman's psyche is at a standstill. A woman who feels thusly senses that she is no longer fragrant with ideas, that she is not fired with invention, that she is not grinding finely to find the pith of things. Her mill is silenced. There appears to be a natural slumber that comes upon humans at certain times in their lives. From raising my own, and from my work with the same group of gifted children over a period of years, I saw that this sleep seems to descend upon children at age eleven or there- abouts. That is when they begin to take acute measurements about how they compare with others. During this time their eyes go from clear to hooded, and though they are always in motion like Mexican jumping beans, they are often dying of terminal cool. Whether they are being too cool or too well-behaved, in neither state are they re- sponsive to what goes on deep inside, and a sleep gradually covers over their bright-eyed, responsive natures. Let us further imagine that during this time we are offered some- thing for nothing. That somehow we have twisted ourselves around to believe that if we will remain asleep something will accrue to us. Women know what this means. When a woman surrenders her instincts that tell her the right time to say yes and when to say no, when she gives up her insight, intui- ton, and other wildish traits, then she finds herself in situations that promised gold but ultimately give grief. Some women relinquish their art for a grotesque financial marriage, or give up their life's dream in order to be a "too-good" wife, daughter, or girl, or surrender their true calling in order to lead what they hope will be a more accept- able, fulfilling, and especially, more sanitary life. In these ways, and others, we lose our instincts.”

“However, back in misty time, it is a good bet that this sort of story originally presented the crone playing the part of the initiator/trouble causer, making things difficult for the sweet young heroine so embar. kation from the land of the living to the land of the dead could occur. Psychically, this is cohesive with concepts in Jungian psychology, the- ology, and the old night religions that the Self, or in our parlance, the Wild Woman, seeds the psyche with perils and challenges in order that the human in despair drives herself back down into her original nature looking for answers and strength, thereby reuniting with the great wild Self and, as much as possible thereafter, moving as one. In one way this distortion in the tale distorts our information about the ancient processes of a woman's return to the underworld. But ac- tally, this replacement of devil for crone is strikingly relevant to us today, for in order to discover the ancient ways of the unconscious, we often find ourselves fighting off the Devil in the form of cultural, familial, or intra-psychic injunctions that devalue the soul-life of the wild feminine. In this sense, the tale works either way, both by leav- ing enough bones of the old ritual so we can reconstruct it, and by showing us how the natural predator tries to cut us away from our rightful powers, how it tries to take our soulful work from us.”

“How does one live in the topside world and the underworld at the same time and on a day-to-day basis? What does one have to do to come down into the underworld on one's own? What circumstances in life help women with the descent? Do we have a choice about going or stay. ing? What spontaneous help have you received from the instinctive nature during such a time? When women (or men) are in this state of dual citizenship, they sometimes make the mistake of thinking that to go away from the world, to leave the mundane life, with its chores, its duties that not only beckon but irritate beyond reason, that this is a sterling idea. But this is not the best way, for the outer world at these times is the only rope left around the ankle of the woman who is wandering, working, hanging upside down in the underworld. It is an excruciatingly im- portant time, when the mundane must play its proper role in exert. ing an "otherworldly» tension and balance that helps lead to a good end.”

“let us consider that in Greek mythology, Persephone was not only a mother's daughter, but also the queen of the land of the dead. In lesser-known stories about her, she endures various torments such as hanging for three days upon the World Tree in order to re- deem the souls who have not enough suffering of their own to deepen their spirits.”

“To give birth is the psychic equivalent of becoming oneself, one self, meaning an undivided psyche. Before this birth of new life in the underworld, a woman is likely to think all parts and personalities within her are rather like a hodgepodge of vagrants who wander in and out of her life. In the underworld birth, a woman learns that any. thing that brushes by her is a part of her. Sometimes this differentia- tion of all the aspects of psyche is hard to do, especially with the tendencies and urges we find repulsive. The challenge of loving unap- pealing aspects of ourselves is as much of an endeavor as any heroine has ever undertaken. Sometimes we are afraid that to identify more than one self within the psyche might mean that we are psychotic. While it is true that people with a psychotic disorder also experience many selves, identi- fying with or against them quite vividly, a person with no psychotic disorder holds all the inner selves in an orderly and rational man- ner. They are put to good use; the person grows and thrives. For the majority of women, mothering and raising the internal selves 1s a creative work, a way of knowledge, not a reason for becoming unnerved. So, the handless maiden is waiting to have a child, a new little wild self. The body in pregnancy does what it wants and knows to do. The new life latches on, divides, swells. A woman at this stage of the psy chic process may enter another enantiodromia, the psychic state in which all that was once held valuable is now not so valuable any- more, and further, may be replaced by new and extreme cravings tor odd and unusual sights, experiences, endeavours.”

“Once we have been through the cycle, we can choose any or all tasks to renew our lives at any time and for any reason. Here are some: to leave the old parents of the psyche, descend to the psychic land unknown, while depending on the goodwill of whomever we meet along the way to bind the wounds inflicted by the poor bargain we made somewhere in our lives to wander psychically hungry and trust nature to feed us to find the Wild Mother and her succor to make contact with the sheltering animus of the underworld to converse with the psychopomp (the magician) to behold the ancient orchards (energic forms) of the feminine to incubate and give birth to the spiritual childSelf to bear being misunderstood, to be severed again and again from love to be made sooty, muddy, dirty to stay in the realm of the woodspeople for seven years till the child is the age of reason to wait to regenerate the inner sight, inner knowing, inner healing of the hands child in, to continue onward even though one has lost all, save the spirirual to retrace and grasp her childhood, girlhood, and womanhood fo re form her animus as a wild and native force; to love him; and Mother and the new childSelf her anasummate the wild marriage”

“To repair injured in- stinct, banish naïveté, and over time to learn the deepest aspects of psyche and soul, to hold on to what we have learned, to not turn away, to speak out for what we stand for ... all this takes a bound- less and mystical endurance. When we come up out of the under- world after one of our undertakings there, we may appear unchanged outwardly, but inwardly we have reclaimed a vast and womanly wild- ness. On the surface we are still friendly, but beneath the skin, we are most definitely no longer tame.”

“We began our search for the wild, whether as girlchildren or as adult women, because in the midst of some ardent endeavor we felt that a wild and supportive presence was near. Perhaps we found her tracks across fresh snow in a dream. Or psychically, we noticed a bent twig here and there, pebbles overturned so their wet sides faced upward ... and we knew that something blessed had passed our way. We sensed within our own psyches the sound of a familiar breath from afar, we felt tremors in the ground, and we innately knew that some thing powerful, someone important, some wild freedom within us was on the move. We could not turn from it, but rather followed, learning more and more how to leap, how to run, how to shadow all things that came across our psychic ground. We began to shadow the Wild Woman and she lovingly shadowed us in return. She howled and we tried to answer her, even before we remembered how to speak her language, and even before we exactly knew to whom we were speaking. And she waited for us, and encouraged us. This is the miracle of the wild and instinctual nature. Without full knowing, we knew.”

“GENERAL WOLF RULES FOR LIFE 1. Eat 2. Rest 3. Rove in between 4. Render loyalty 5. Love the children 6. Cavil in moonlight 7. Tune your ears 8. Attend to the bones 9. Make love 10. Howl often”

“In some ways, old emotion is like a mental set of piano strings in the psyche. A rumble from topside can cause a tremendous vibration of those strings in the mind. They can be made to sing out without ever being directly plucked. Events that carry similar overtones, words, visual features of the original events cause a person to "fight" to keep the old material from "singing out." In Jungian psychology, this eruption of great feeling tone is called constellation of a complex. Unlike Freud, who branded such behavior neurotic, Jung considered it ac- tually a cohesive response, similar to that made by animals who have been previously harassed, tortured, frightened, or injured. The animal tends to react to smells, mo- tons, instruments, sounds which are similar to the original injuring ones. Humans have the same recognition and response pattern. Many people control old complex material by staying away from persons or events that stir them. Sometimes this is rational and useful and sometimes not. So a man may avoid all women who have red hair similiar to that of his battering father. A woman may steer clear of all contentious argument for it brings up so much in her. However, we try to strengthen our ability to stay in all sorts of situations regardless of com- plexes because this staying power gives us a voice in the world. It is what gives us abil- ity to change things around us. If we are solely reactive to our complexes we will hide in a hole for the rest of our lives. If we can gain some tolerance of them, utilize them as our allies, for instance use old anger to put teeth into our proclamations, then, we can form and reform many things.”

[picturebookshelf]

How To Babysit A Grandpa (2012)

Story: Jean Reagan -- Art: Lee Wildish

[it8bit]

Pixel Falls

Art by David Wildish || Bē

[ofcloudsandstars]

Hey Everyone! I don’t know if this would be interest here too but I have a little Witchy group FB page for witches in London where we meet up around the city, share magic tips and events to get in touch with the local nature and magic but anyway, weekly I post a celestial forecast and I can forward these posts to here too. 

The posts may be a bit GMT/UT -centric as the target audience is London witches lol (also the weeks here begin on Mondays and from time to time I might mention ‘The Heath’ which is this beautiful wildish park here in North london but anyway) I thought of sharing this week’s Monday through Sunday events cause the energy is CLIMATIC and you may want to have a look at what’s going on! Below I talk about each day’s celestial transits and the recommended magic for them. 

Celestial Forecast! ✨

Week 2 of January {6th-12th}

Overview:

This is going to be an INSANELY powerful week! We might end up absorbing a lot of energy from the cosmos before we get slammed by the Full Moon Eclipse and other cosmic energies on the 10th that will lead us out of Eclipse season. It's time to ascend and let go of what no longer serves us and lay down powerful foundations as we dive into the New Year.

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6th

moon void of course from 12:08pm-2:11am (GMT)

moon in Taurus

Energy: The moon in Taurus will be void of course for most of the day (once again Void of Course meaning the moon will have made it's last aspect at 12:08PM and will venture into the next sign not making any aspects or aligning with any other planet or cosmic energy) creating a pretty chill and lazy liminal space. Get as much done as you can in the morning otherwise the afternoon and evening will be a time to be chill and unproductive. It's good to take time to rest and with the mood plateau-ing especially in lazy Taurus, you won't have much energy to get a lot done anyway. You will need the time to chill before the big eclipse on Friday!

Recommended Magic: journaling, resting, bath magic (cleansing), meditating, chilling out

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7th

Moon in Gemini at 2:11AM  (GMT)

Sun (Capricorn) sextile Neptune (Pisces)

Energy: With the sun having a harmonious aspect with Neptune, the two energies flow together like a chord setting the tone of heightened sensitivity and psychic connections for the day. Empathy will be heightened along with non-verbal communication, emotional sensitivities, spiritual connections and intense dreaming. Meditation, occult work and spiritual work will be favored on this day and might bring inspiring insights leading to greater self understanding and contentment. The moon in Gemini will hone in our desires to communicate and explore our inner mental world and connect our experiences to other through communication. This day might also bring spiritual 'downloads' from the cosmos if you open yourself up. The moon in Gemini might create the mood for us to be curious to explore our spiritual realms and with the harmonious nature of Neptune and the sun we may discover a lot of incredible things. This would be a great day to document our experiences through journaling or expressing them through art.

Recommended Magic: Dreaming, astral traveling (like mugwort tea or anything that helps you to fly), channeling, art and expressing your spiritual side through artwork, doing any magic, connecting to spirit guides, divination, freewriting, journaling, energy work, writing in your grimoire.

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8th

Mercury (Capricorn) sextile Neptune (Pisces)

moon void of course 9:15pm  (GMT)

Energy: This will be a lovely sequel to the previous day which can help us digest any psychic or intuitive information we may have received. This transit which is a harmonious transit now with the spiritual and mysterious neptune mixing with the mental realm of mercury means the world of art and spirituality will be harmonious with our mental world and we will find it easy to express our spiritual pursuits with ease. We might find the words to explain our epiphanies or enlightenment and can easily put them in the forms of art or words. This is also a great day for experiencing colorful dreams and picking up spiritual information through meditation, spirit guides, chance encounters and dreams or sudden thoughts. It's not a great transit for anything technical, but perfect to do creative artwork of any kind. In the evening the moon will be in void of course transit so the energy will quell by then.

Recommended Magic: Art, Dreaming, meditating, trance, reflection, journaling, connecting with guides, listening to music that moves you, shufflemancy, divination

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9th

moon enters cancer (7:43 AM GMT)

Energy: This moon position has much healing potential. Our emotions run deep and with the moon transitioning into it's full moon phase, we may feel our emotions running high and bringing to the surface what truly motivates us. It'll be wise to focus on the lessons we've learned on the days before and not get swept up by the high emotional tides of the near-full moon in Cancer. Full moon energy brings the two complementary yet opposing natures of the sister signs at harmony. With the moon in Cancer opposing the Sun in Capricorn, it will illuminate what motivates us emotionally and what makes us feel safe which will be the driving force for us to build stronger foundations for.

Recommended Magic: shadow work, chanting to align your energy, cleansing the space, shielding (as energy will run high), protective charms, free writing as a form of release.

__________________________

10th

Full Moon in Cancer Lunar Eclipse

Uranus direct in Taurus - Freedom and grounding

Sun (Capricorn) conjunct Mercury (Capricorn)

Energy: Where to begin... At first glance you can see the universe is screeching TIME FOR A CHANGE BITCH!! With the eclipse and Uranus moving direct you can experience sudden transformations to a higher version of yourself. With the sun and mercury conjunct, the energy of the two planets are fused where our thoughts, communications and what's going on in our inner realms is in the center of attention therefore edging away from the powerful spiritual transformation of this day is inevitable.

Uranus retrograde previously meant that Uranus's energies were inverted. If you were trying to make a change or initiate change, you might have felt blocked with Uranus's cycle of sleep beginning on August 11th. With Uranus Rx you would have gone on an internal journey creating changes within yourself that will help you create the external changes you seek. Often the changes we need are for personal freedom and Uranus retrograde lets you process things internally before you manifest the external change once Uranus turns direct. Now with Uranus direct on the full moon eclipse we can expect sudden powerful changes, epiphanies, and bursts of freedom that will come to a climax with this full blood moon. If you for example REALLY WANT A JOB or REALLY HATE YOUR JOB AND WANT TO CHANGE IT or REALLY HATE YOUR LIVING EXPERIENCE (this amplified as it's full moon in Cancer) or DON'T FEEL STABLE, SAFE AND LOVED IN YOUR LIFE AND YOU WANT TO BE FREE AND FEEL GOOD FOR ONCE!!

This is the moon to RELEASE that magic on. With eclipses, the full moon eclipse is extra powerful as it dredges up emotions from our deep subconscious to the surface that we have been bottling up for god knows how long aging like an old forgotten fermenting smoothie that is about to fizz and burst open everywhere. It's a good day for protective charms and energy as you can imagine some people might really let their emotions loose without care for others and you don't want to be on the receiving end especially if your own emotions are high and you're not tryna find trouble by popping off.  It's also, obviously a GREAT day for MANIFESTING as all full moons are, but specifically manifesting your truest most rawest desires like go full feral wild in the heaths howling at the blood moon and burning shit cause the energies will be at the highest pitch to thunder down your most passionate visions of your most idealistic reality like the Kool-Aid man bursting through the cosmic fourth wall to deliver you to your dreams.

Recommended Magic: gurl issa full blood moon Uranus direct eclipse.. go wild.

__________________________

11th

Moon void of course until 11:16am  (GMT)

Moon in Leo

Energy: The day will start out a bit relaxed with the moon void of course which will create a chill radio-silence which is the peace needed to calm the electric magic storm of the evening before. With the moon in Leo however the spectacle might just move to Act 2 instead of dissipating completely. The moon in Leo creates a desire for drama (and for some of us with natal chiron in Leo, painful traumatic realizations), yet also creativity and sparking our inner child. In order to process this energy positively you can use the day to process your emotions you've experienced throughout the week into art and sharing your creations on social media. You might find a place where your experiences are welcomed and you might find extra validation. Either way today would be the day to focus on the self and expressing yourself and looking on the path that you'd like to take yourself, especially with the aftermath of the full moon and what it could have surfaced for you.

Recommended Magic: self love, art, self reflection, divination, shadow work, sharing art.

__________________________

12th

Mercury, Saturn + Pluto Conjunct (Capricorn)

moon in Leo

Energy: Today is going to be a rude day but it will be needed. It will be the harsh grounding force of the dreamy week coming to an end and the psychedelic trip, cathartic full moon storm being grounded into the deep earth and force you to put what you've learned onto the material plane. With Saturn, Pluto and Mercury conjunct, all three energies are fused to create an energy where we must focus on the material world (all of our thoughts will revolve around this as well) and what is not working for us anymore. Something in your life has outlived it's usefulness and is holding you back and with the deep earthly Saturn being pushed with Pluto which brings things to an end (or transforms them) you will put down the ground work to finally get rid of these things or change your circumstance (especially with Uranus now direct you will seek freedom and the change to do so). If something is broken you will need to fix it or toss it out, and you will be unwise to ignore it and resist the powerful forces of Saturn AND Pluto, cause lets be real they will whoop your ass so it's better to work with them then against them. Along with the moon in Leo, making things more dramatic than they need to be, instead of realizing something simply doesn't work out for you anymore, it might be a dramatic rude display loudly trumpeting in your face that it's time Is Now Over and you need to take action.

It is best to approach the coming change by accepting the inevitable and do what must be done or else if you stubbornly refuse to change, you risk complications that will make your life extremely difficult for a long time cause that's especially the way Saturn works and it's in it's home sign of Capricorn so it's not here to play games. Especially since Saturn is deeply earthly you will risk making your foundations in life deeply unstable which can result in suffering for years to come. I like to imagine Saturn energy as the big bad wolf and your actions being like the three little pigs. Use the time to put down the hard work and foundation to build a brick house or else Saturn powered by Pluto will come to blow them twigs away.

Recommended Magic: use all the materials you've written in the past for journaling, vision boards, reflections etc. and take action on them. The magical focus will be less in the ethereal plane and more on the physical today. Additionally: shadow work and divination as guides.

[bumbleebooks]

A to Z reading challenge 2020

This year I’ve decided to participate in the A to Z reading challenge, which - as you have probably guessed - means that I will try to read a bunch of books whose titles cover every letter of the alphabet :) 

I plan to update as I go, and hopefully it will be all filled out by the end of december. 

A - “Ash Princess” by Laura Sebastian  ⭐ ⭐ 

B - “(the) Bane Chronicles” by Cassandra Clare  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

C - “Crooked Kingdom” by Leigh Bardugo  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

D - “Dear John” by Nicholas Sparks  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

E - “Empire of Storms” by Sarah J Maas  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

F - “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

G - “(the) Gentelman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue” by Mackenzi Lee  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

H - “How to Adult” by Stephen Wildish  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

I - “(An) Illustrated History of Notable Shadowhunters and Denizens of Downworld” by Cassandra Clare ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

J

K - “King of Scars” by Leigh Bardugo  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

L - “(the) Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

M - “Midnight Sun” by Trish Cook  ⭐

N - “Naturally Tan” by Tan France  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

O - “Over the Top” by Jonathan Van Ness  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

P - “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Q - “Queen of Shadows” by Sarah J Maas  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

R - “Red, White and Royal Blue” by Casey Mcquiston  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 

S - “(the) Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck” by Mark Manson  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

T - “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” by Jenny Han  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

U

V

W - “Water’s Wrath” by Elise Kova  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

X

Y

Z

[silver-shores]

Thanks to @pinehutch​ for the mention- this was fun!

Birthday: July- my favourite month! Not for the obvious reason (cake), but because it falls right the middle of winter, which is very mild here. This means: fresh mornings, cool gold light, strawberries, dizzyingly bright stars, and the daytime sky about 3 shades further towards impossibly blue. 

Zodiac: Cancer sun, Aquarius moon, Scorpio ascendant. I love Whitman’s lines about containing multitudes and self-contradiction because I relate to them on a cellular level. I love astrology and use it as a tool for introspection, and also I hold firmly the belief that in the end we are the masters of our fates and willfully choose our actions. NO, I WILL NOT CRY AT VIDEOS OF BABY ANIMALS just because I’m a Cancer! I will cry about something sensible, like the sad dragon looking through the windows in the Pete’s Dragon remake (it was so sad! so! sad!).

Last song listened to: breaking rocks in the HOT SUN I fought the law and the LAW WON I fought the law and the (clap) LAW WON! (the clash version)

Hobbies: Art- I’m getting back into it after a sort-of-break and am astounded by how much more myself I feel after contemplating the light of the world // Writing - something I’m trying to work on very slowly and for myself // Reading (I relate to Aziraphale in reaching the world through story on a level that gets me emotional if I think about it too much) // Music! (listening to + also playing it myself) // Being in nature- I’m spoiled with an abundance of wildish places in every direction, and Finding Good Rocks is a duty I take very seriously // Stargazing - I know a few constellations but I partake mostly in the spirit of being awed at the terrifying/comforting magnitude of space // Crochet - I taught myself when I was a kid and kind of take it up seasonally. I’m starting a jumper soon - the stylistic goal is ‘very jumbly’.

Last movie watched: I honestly have no idea. I wanted to watch portrait of a lady on fire but I missed the cinema release run. 

Dream job: I’m finally happy to not really be sure of this one. Something that combines Making Stuff with Being Useful. 

Meaning behind url: @pinehutch​ - your answer to this was phenomenal. Mine is not an interesting story at all. Alas! I always blank out on not very important decisions like this, so I just forced myself to pick something fast before I decided not to worry about making an account (it’s happened before!). I tend to visualise my inner self as a kind of liquid mess of emotions & thought tangents: the stranger seas within. Of course, a shore is where the ocean meets the rest of the world! Viola! Silver is one of my favourite words and colours, and is a slightly more alliterative stand-in for the idea of moonlight and nighttime in general (I love the late night and may or may not be found on occasion whispering sweet/sad nothings to the moon, a personal hero of mine. I am a cliche.)

Top 4 ships: I am listing these without their official ship names, primarily because I do not know them. • Aziraphale & Crowley •• Villanelle & Eve Polastri ••• Vasa, a literal ship: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasa_(ship) •••• Ernie & Bert 

Reading: I am at the start of Maria Popova’s incredible Figuring. I borrowed it from the library but decided two chapters in that it absolutely required re-reads and annotations and plenty of time for digesting, so bought it instead. I’ll probably share some little quotes from it on here as I go. I also found the Hitchhiker’s Guide original radio scripts and Earthsea I, II & III at a book fair awhile ago and they’re next. Lots of fic as well! I’m awful at commenting because I AM TOO WORRIED ABOUT EVERYTHING ALWAYS but am going to make a monster of a fic rec list soon. 

What foods are you craving right now?: Oh! Easy! Some nice cheese. It’s always cheese. 

I don’t know the etiquette of tagging people here (do we need to have spoken? How many people do you list? Are there rules?) So- if you follow me, consider this your official invitation! Seriously- I’d love to hear about you.

[halieloren]

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A post shared by Halie Loren (@halieloren)

There's nothing quite like strings to make a song soar. We played "Cuando Bailamos" (which I co-wrote with the late great Larry Wayne Clark) with a live string quartet to mark the release of my "Simply Love" album in summer 2013. This blast-from-the-past performance features the same string quartet that played on the album: David Burham, Lisa McWhorter, Clark Spencer, and Dale Bradley (also featuring amazing rhythm section Matt Treder, Mark Schneider, and Brian West) ... And, it just so happens that this weekend, I will be playing this song with a FULL SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA in Newport, OR! So delighted to be joining the Newport Symphony Orchestra for two Symphony Pops concerts this Saturday (7:30 pm) and Sunday (2 pm) at the Newport Performing Arts Center with conductor Adam Flatt and pianist (and orchestral arranger) Matthew Treder. It's going to be a lush and lovely weekend of music! Ticket link in my bio! #newportsymphonyorchestra #halieloren #newportoregon #newportperformingartscenter #symphonypops #symphony #lushlife #thisweekend (at Richard E. Wildish Community Theater) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzrJ3MMgwHL/?igshid=o29eujxlsnq7

[yegarts]

Yorath House Artist Studio Residency: Meet the artists - Andrew Thorne and Anna Wildish

At the end of August, we welcomed a new artist duo to the Yorath House Artist Studio. Andrew Thorne and Anna Wildish, partners and artistic collaborators, have been busy experimenting with sound, textiles, and printmaking.

Andrew Thorne is an early career artist, born in Mi’kma’ki and Wolastoqiyik, or Moncton, New Brunswick, he received an interdisciplinary BFA from NSCAD University in 2020. Thorne moved to Treaty Six territory, Edmonton, in the winter of 2021 with partner and collaborator, Anna Wildish, and their cat, Bubba. Thorne is drawn towards mediums that hold the capacity to share and offer the potential for discovery. These materials have recently involved woodcut, copper etching, and exploration of sound. Recently, Thorne has had work featured in SNAP’s 40th Anniversary portfolio, the Slow Down and Resist portfolio at MAPC, and a sound piece involving many radios with Anna Wildish featured in blur, a Mile Zero Dance salon curated by Stephanie Patsula. Andrew also teaches printmaking and other art classes through the City Arts Centre and SNAP (Society of Northern Alberta Print-artists).

Anna Wildish is a newcomer to Amiskwaciwâskahikan or Edmonton, having moved here in the winter of 2021 after receiving a BA in Art History and Textiles from NSCAD University in Kjipuktuk, also known as Halifax. Since then Wildish has been fortunate enough to learn about the artist community here through her work at the Alberta Craft Council as a Gallery Assistant. Wildish is particularly interested in art as a means of connection, community building and confrontation. You can often find her biking, playing music, talking to her cat or moonlighting at Wee Book Inn.

During their Yorath House Artist Residency, Wildish and Thorne will expand on their collaborative practice of making sounds and noises, while transforming the Yorath House and the surrounding area into a place of discovery. The artists believe in the importance of public spaces; for them, they offer an opportunity for widespread collaboration and collective expression.

Through their print and textiles-based installation, “Symposium of Non-sense", their aim is to evoke a space that invites all members of the community to interact and play. “Buena Vista Park is a very relaxed and friendly place, we want to surprise people, catch them off guard in that relaxed environment and provide the chance to think and to play, if that’s what they’d like to do.”

The artists invite the public to participate by discovering the plinths and pedestals that they have constructed and placed around the grounds of Yorath House. These structures will bring into question what we value or “put on a pedestal”, while encouraging people to ask “what work deserves to be public work ? Who do we build monuments for and for what purpose?”

Wildish and Thorne believe that sound as an experiential medium has the potential to gather people and spark moments of collective joy. As with the plinth and fibre creations, the artists look to sound as another means of impacting and altering an environment, and encouraging community through collaboration. Wildish and Thorne have played music together in the Halifax based group, Tangent, having just completed a tour of the east coast in August. However, the sonic work they are creating during their residency is a far cry from the music they are used to making.

Aside from building plinths, tapestries and woodcut prints, the two have been creating collages of sound, derived from the many sounds of people and plants alike in the River Valley.

Thorne and Wildish have also been documenting their time at Yorath House on Thorne's website. The blog section includes additional photos, observations, and a recording of a xylophone played using the rocks and stones surrounding the shore of the river. Check out their blog here.

At the end of September, Edmontonians are invited to come find the duo at the Yorath House, where they will be performing some of the sound work they have been developing, live in the Buena Vista Park. More details will be shared soon, so keep an eye on the EAC's social media channels and EAC Weekly newsletter.

[tripppymermaid]

“When women’s lives are in stasis, or filled with ennui, it is always time for the wildish woman to emerge; it is time for the creating function of the psyche to flood the delta. The archetype of the Wild Woman and all that stands behind her is patroness to all painters, writers, sculptors, dancers, thinkers, prayermakers, seekers, finders, for they are all busy with the work of invention, and that is the instinctive nature’s main occupation. As in all art, she resides in the guts, not the head. She can track and run and summon and repel. She can sense, camouflage, and love deeply. She is intuitive, typical, and normative. She is utterly essential to women’s mental and soul health.” —Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D., Women Who Run with the Wolves #visionboard #wildwoman #wildheart #innergoddess #goddesslife #intothewild #rewilding #intuition #wildlings #art #painters #creators #creatives #writers #artists #soul #soulhealth #mentalhealth #stasis #intuitive #summon #repel #sculptors #seekers #finders #floodthedelta #womenwhorunwiththewolves #clarissapinkolaestes #wildishwoman #wildways https://www.instagram.com/p/Cb9Dr_bMS0l/?utm_medium=tumblr

[katwildish]

5:pm TEENS and 6:30p ADULTS w Kat Wildish at HSA Dance _________ www.katwildish.com________ #nyclife #nyc #ny #dancer #dance #キャット##privateballetlessons #balletexpert #balletboys #balletdancers #balletfeet #balletpost #balletlife #followme #underarmour##worldwideballet #КэтВайлдиш##boysdancetoo #newyorkcity #happiness##goodweek #goodweekahead #behappy #livingthedream #livinglife #katwildish #pasdedeuxclass #pasdedeux #pasdedeuxpartner #adultballerinas (at The Harlem School of the Arts) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bp8t5HSgqdr/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=2h19ypu75593

[sanlorenzoshop]

Elephant I Had My Patience Tested I'm Negative T-Shirt

Breastfeeding can be a Elephant I Had My Patience Tested I'm Negative T-Shirt wonderful and sometimes challenging experience going into it feeling prepared can help make the whole process a whole lot easier for you and your baby especially when you re first getting the hang of it here are 15 things nursing mamas need 1 patience go easy on yourself it won t always be perfect but what you re doing is amazing and so worth it 2 prenatal vitamins continuing to take your honest prenatal vitamins while breastfeeding can help to make sure you’re getting nutrients that you may be lacking from diet alone 3 nursing pillow using a nursing pillow will help you properly position your baby and take some physical stress off your body when feeding 4 nursing bra a nursing bra provides comfort support and convenience 5 netflix a newborn will usually nurse for 20 45 minutes or longer per feeding so it s the perfect time to catch up on some of your favorite shows 6 nursing pads prevent leaking through your tops by having nursing pads handy to absorb any milk leaks and unintentional let down 7 water staying hydrated while breastfeeding is crucial so it s smart to up your daily water intake try a keeping reusable water bottle where you nurse to help you remember to drink it 8 support the first few months of breastfeeding can be physically mentally and emotionally challenging lean on your partner mama friends and loved ones for support 9 lactation supplement honest postnatal lactation plus can help support healthy lactation and breast milk production 10 nursing friendly clothes comfy clothing will allow for easier access especially when feeding on the go 11 nipple balm soothe and nourish nursing nipples with honest organic nipple balm this product is designed for breastfeeding so there s no need to wipe off before nursing 12 breast pain relief using hot or cold packs can help relieve some of the soreness associated with breastfeeding you don t need a fancy product a simple warm wash cloth or ice pack will do the trick 13 nursing scarf if you ll be nursing in public some moms like to have a nursing scarf for for more discreet feedings 14 an app breastfeeding there s an app for that some of our favorites help you track feedings locate public places to nurse or even put you in instant contact with an expert check out latchme baby breastfeeding tracker or lactmed just to name a few and see what suits you best 15 help never be afraid to get help grab a trusted book for tips stop by a breastfeeding support center like the pump station or reach out to a lactation consultant who can help identify and solve any issues you may be having these statements have not been evaluated by the food and drug administration these products are not intended to diagnose treat cure or prevent any disease. Meet bruce on october 17 in london presented by waterstones tickets on sale tomorrow at 8pm bst more info at. Face narsskin luminous moisture cream eyes dark angel velvet shadow stick for darker skin tones use flibuste velvet shadow stick solomon islands eye paint outremer single eyeshadow audacious mascara lips mambo eyeliner pencil damned velvet matte lip pencil 413 blkr lipstick Elephant I Had My Patience Tested I'm Negative T-Shirt

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Kat wildish presents contemporary ballet workshop with special guest diego funes starting feb 13 2017 limited spaces register now come explore new horizons immerse yourself in contemporary ballet with diego funes one of new york’s leading contemporary dance instructors and choreographers a Elephant I Had My Patience Tested I'm Negative T-Shirt new piece will be set on dancers in the workshop culminating in two optional performances on march 26 2017 at the the salvatore capezio theater at peridance workshop details weekday evenings 9 10pm convenient location in manhattan dates february 13 20 27 march 6 13 20 22 optional performances march 26 men women welcome ages 12 180 for rehearsals and 2 performances no additional fees register now biography diego funes diego funes is one of new york s leading contemporary dance instructors and choreographers his choreographic style which he terms contemporary lyrical has graced world stages influenced by his ballet gymnastics and worldwide dancing career he worked for ten years to create a style that involves kinetic exciting and unconventional solo and group pieces that challenge and inspire his dancers and students he has taught and choreographed worldwide in countries including london italy argentina and brazil and throughout the us in cities including new york city los angeles boston saint louis kansas city fort lauderdale and miami his credits as a dancer choreographer include major works in dance theatre musical theatre film and television trained in gymnastics from the age of four diego s choreographic style is highly athletic with strong elements of classical dance and contemporary movement and expression that categorize both his work with students and with the de funes dance company the corps he founded in 2006 as a teenager he studied at the prestigious school of american ballet prior to dancing with cincinnati ballet the new york city opera the metropolitan opera teatro dell opera di roma and baletto del sud he went on tour throughout europe later returning to the united states to break into musical theatre his musical credits as a dancer include cats hello dolly riverdance anything goes a chorus line and the radio city music hall christmas spectacular during his musical theatre career he also choreographed acclaimed stagings of beauty and the beast hello dolly and the world goes round zorba leader of the pack the first new york revival of subways are for sleeping and shows for tokyo disney he danced in numerous videos for mtv and with headlining music artists such as liza minnelli whitney houston and will smith in 2007 he choreographed the major motion picture p s I love you directed by richard lagravenese and starring gerard butler and academy award winner hilary swank diego lives in new york city where he is on faculty at peridance capezio center ballet arts at new york city center and manhattan movement arts center check out diego funes webiste www defunesdance com contemporaryballet peridance manhattanmovementarts ballet katwildish diegofunes contemporydance workshop intensive movement bdc broadwaydancecenter newyork newyorkcity boydancer nyc maximumeffort balleteveryday masterballetacademy choreography moscow командамигеля тнт танцы3сезон катярешетникова tapdance jazz moderndance dancers acting. The classic french motif covered fabric known as toile de jouy was a key reference in the dior men summer 2019 collection kim jones men’s artistic director employed it in a multitude of new ways one of the most extraordinary required the wondrous savoir faire of paris’ atelier janaïna milheiro where through a laborious process of hand cutting and application the motif was recreated in feathers to trace an airy tulle shirt more on dior com men summer19. I placed an order saturday afternoon in that order I added two jackets to my cart by mistake and realized it as soon as a submitted the order I called immediately after and was told nothing could be done despite the order was received a few minutes earlier on a saturday afternoon I was told I would have to return the item today I received the order and the slip below was what I received again I immediately called and was told I would have to print a return slip this will be my last purchase from this company this company’s customer service is horrible

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[katwildish]

FRIDAY June 15, 2018 STRETCH/Conditioning with Kat Wildish Ballet Professor NYC NOON at Peridance ALSO BALLET 6:30 Harlem Arts MEET Summer Scholarship Recipient MOLLY from Montana! #katwildish #molly #scholarship #peridance #flexibility #dance #dancer #dancing #ballet #barre #HSAdance #artisticathlete #penche #adancerslife #Montana #graceandstrength #balletbeyondborders #training #moderndaymuse #balletexpert #dancestudio #balletbarre #stretching #graceandstrength #adancerslife #stretch (at Peridance Capezio Center)