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image by kal c. schwarzer via creative commons

image by kal c. schwarzer via creative commons

To the Daughters

March 12, 2015

Daughters of the world,

I see you.  I see you, girl-children and babies and girls-becoming-women.  I see you on my daily journeyings to the grocery store and gym and tumbling on the playgrounds and in my friends' arms, and I hope you won't forget your wildness.

I don't need to know you to see your spirit, the fire in your eyes.  There are people who will try to quench those flames, and some who will fan them with you.  I hope you find more of the latter, and show the former your glorious teeth.

Because you are glorious.  And it's your you-ness that makes you so.  Don't forget.

The world has rules, so many rules, and a lot of them are about women, and a lot of those keep women small, stifled, afraid.  You don't have to live by those rules, although it helps to know what they are.  You have a choice.  You always have a choice.  Listen to your gut, for your wisdom lives inside.

I hope you will live big.  I hope that you will sing your soul's song, bold and beautiful, and paint your story upon our hearts with the colors of your love.  I hope you will never stop playing, asking, experimenting, trying.  I hope you won't listen to the ones who tell you your dreams are stupid/silly/impossible. 

I hope you will show up to your own life, precious and singular as it is.

I hope that if our paths should happen to cross again in ten years or twenty or more, that your eyes will still be blazing.  But know that if they're not, that if somehow, somewhere along the way your fire was quenched, it's not too late.  It's never too late to build those flames again.  Let us gather the kindling together.

And daughters, know that you are so valuable.  Not because of your mate or your children or your job or your doings, although those may all be very important, and part of your soul's calling.  And certainly not because of how small a corner you are able to fold yourself away into at the subtle but powerful request of so many.  But you are what makes your worth.  Your being-alive-ness. 

Don't forget.

You are powerful and visceral and mysterious and deliciously primal.  You are light and darkness and everything in between.  You are soul-made-flesh, a miracle of sass and spirit and sinew. 

Don't forget.  Don't forget.

In the wild life
wild

"Wild" is Not a Four Letter Word

February 28, 2015

"Call the soul what you like -- one's marriage to the wild, one's hope for the future, one's fluming energy, one's creative passion, my way, what I do, the Beloved, the wild groom, the 'feather on the breath of God.'"

-- Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

 

She said it like it was a bad thing, the worst thing, the worst thing that I could possibly have done to anyone, or to her.  "When you were a little girl," she said, "you were wild."  The word sounded like it tasted of acid, and I could practically feel rogue drops of it singing my skin.

I believed her.  I listened to "wild" turn to a four letter word on her lips.  To be wild was to be bad.  A problem.  I listened, and I wilted.

For a while.

* * *

Even when I knew I wasn't supposed to, I hated the rule-breakers and rebels in the books and movies I took in as a growing-up person.  I knew that this people were the protagonists, the ones who made positive and needed changes, but they irritated me.  Why couldn't they just be quiet and play by the rules?  Why couldn't they just be good?

Begrudgingly, I looked on as their wild ways led to Very Good Things, and by the end I was cheering them on in spite of myself. 

But I also kind of hated them.  Because the way they lived wasn't real life, wasn't really possible.  Even though some of these stories and characters were non-fictional.

I knew, though.  I knew about acting out, speaking up, going a different way.  I knew that these were detestable qualities.

* * *

I was good for a long time. 

I did the right things, said the right things, didn't think too much, and stayed small.  I traded my freedom for safety.  Because that was The Way Things Are.  The best way.

Right?

* * *

It took thirty years until "good" started tasting stale as I tried to choke it down each day, a metaphorical medicine of sanitized half-living.

Thirty years for me to awaken to myself at last.  So late, but not too late, not nearly. 

It started with death, of course.

A death that shouldn't have, couldn't have been, if all the rules I'd been [not] living by were true. 

But it did happen.  My womb became a garden, but when it opened, it only blossomed for silent, raging, impossible stillbirth.

Where was the safety that I'd bartered away so many of my soul's treasures for?  The safety I'd been firmly promised?

That was the beginning.  Because I [re]birthed my self then, too.

* * *

All of a sudden, I fell in love with those rebels I saw in books and movies.  The same ones I'd resented from the self-imposed prison of my own smallness.  Before they were threatening to my delusions, to the lies that had been sold to me as rock hard truth.

But now?  Oh, now!  They were the way-showers, the possibility-makers!  They were deliciously unpredictable, innovative, inspiring, outspoken, deep thinking, and -- gasp -- wild.

And I discovered with a rush of terror and exhilaration that I wanted to be wild, too.

* * *

Once I got that first whiff of wildness, I was ravenous for it.  I sought it out, even when I didn't know what "wild" even meant.  I searched for, stalked, salivated for it. 

Because some part of me knew -- had always known -- that my wildness was everything.  It was my power. My ability to love, to breathe deep, to dream, to truly live. To be.

And it had been taken from me.  Well, at first it was taken.  Then I started handing it over willingly. 

But no more.  Now it was my turn to do the taking -- taking back my wild essence.  And so I did, imperfectly, clumsily, with great need.  And so I continue to.

* * *

What is "wild," though?

Well. 

It depends on you, really.  Only you can decide on how to embrace the goodness of your wild.

For me, wild means: authentic. brave. true. deep. self-loving. health. challenging the status quo when needed. asking questions, even (especially) the hard ones. listening when the answers are uncomfortable. loving others fiercely, but also with healthy boundaries. gratitude. everyday magic. creation. making one's own way. freedom.

I also see these images as wild: the crescenting moon, wide expanses of sky and ocean and earth, wolf packs and mother bears, dancing ecstatically, flame, darkness and light, laughing and speaking and love-making without holding back, and so, so many colors. 

None of these "definitions" (for lack of a better word), it should be noted, are destructive or inherently negative.  Many of them are difficult, yes, or may lead to destruction.  But I see the hard and destructive side of wildness as necessary -- the kind of hardness that leads to needed growth, and constructive deconstruction.  Wildness doesn't doesn't destroy purely for the sake of destruction, I think.

* * *

"Wild" is no longer a four letter word to me.  I think of how it was spoken over me with such derision, and my lip curls at the untruth born of the speaker's own traded-away-wildness, and in empathy at the little girl who was taught to be in ways unnatural and contrary to her soul.

Because a child should be wild.  It is her work to be wild, playful, adventurous, all in her own way.  And a woman should be wild, too, just as wild as men are allowed (and encouraged) to be. 

I should be wild, because I need to be.  Because that is where my heart is, where my soul dwells.  Because it is me.  And I will defend it, and my right to it, and your right to it, and all people's right to it.

 

"The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door."

-- Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

 

Your turn -- what does wildness mean to you?  Do you want to be more wild?  What stops you?

 

*this post contains affiliate links -- thanks for supporting the blog!

In the wild life

Why the Divine Feminine Matters

February 21, 2015

So, why the divine feminine?  What's the big deal?  Doesn't the world have enough on its religious plate without adding in a cosmic She to the mix?

Sure, there are a huge number of spiritual options available, particularly in the west, and some of these include divine feminine figures.  But when we take a not-very-close look at the major world religions, an obvious theme emerges: holy men and He gods, with women playing a marginal role at best.

I know that not everyone out there feels the need for the divine feminine (and maybe that's a problem -- but it's not one I'm going to tackle here), but I do.  Here are some reasons why I think its important that She gods become recognized equally amidst a global culture of patriarchy.

1.  Women need a god who looks like them.

In my thirty church going years, I never once encountered any theology that met me in my femininity.  Never did I see or hear anything about breastfeeding, menstruation, sex, childbearing, and parenting that treated them as the sacred acts that they are.  Often, women and women's physiology were talked about in the negative -- women as whores, women as traps for good men, menstruation as dirty, breasts as dangerous.  And even when women were portrayed in a more lovely light, it was in a two-dimensional, passive supporting role to a man.  Nor did I see powerful women in the same kinds of leadership roles as men.

The message was clear: I, a woman, was a problem.  I, a woman, was weak.  I, a woman, was not wanted -- unless, of course, it was to be a quiet member of a man's flock.

As I grew older, and especially after I became a mother, I longed for a god who bled monthly as I did, whose cycle turned with the moon as mysteriously as mine does.  I longed for theological metaphors about the nourishing power of a woman's milk-filled breasts. 

But there wasn't anything, and I was the poorer for it.  I believe that women of every belief are spiritually malnourished because of this lack of the divine feminine.  Women represent roughly half of the world population, and this ratio is not even close to being reflected in our global spiritualities.

“She had power
over the most magnificent
forces on Earth, but she still
didn’t feel like she had power
over the most important thing
of all—her own heart.”

― Josephine Angelini, Goddess

2.  Men need to see a god who looks like a woman.

Women aren't the only one's who need a divine She.  Men do, too.  While patriarchy has led to the dominance of males in world in many ways, it has also robbed them.  Modern acceptable masculinity seems to become ever more limiting and claustrophobic.  "Real men don't cry," we hear.  "Suck it up, don't be a sissy," too many little boys hear.  "Don't be a girl." 

But sometimes, we need to cry, both men and women.  We need to be soft or quiet or gentle or intuitive or feeling or sassy or mystical or any of a host of the more feminine aspects, no matter our gender. 

Not to mention that sometimes a Mother God is who's needed.  Men need to recognize the power and dignity and intrinsic value of the feminine, and part of that is reinstating Her into our faiths.

“In the older view the goddess Universe was alive, herself organically the Earth, the horizon, and the heavens. Now she is dead, and the universe is not an organism, but a building, with gods at rest in it in luxury: not as personifications of the energies in their manners of operation, but as luxury tenants, requiring service. And Man, accordingly, is not as a child born to flower in the knowledge of his own eternal portion but as a robot fashioned to serve.”

― Joseph Campbell, Goddesses: Mysteries of the Feminine Divine

3.  Our world is powerfully anti-women.

In many places, feminism has made great positive changes for women.  In others, not so much.  In all places, more work is still needed.  Even the word "feminism" itself is a dirty word, which I can't help but imagine that this wouldn't be the case in a world that respects and honors women as much as it does men.

Rape culture, violence against women, objectification of women, the glass ceiling, overt and subtle sexism -- it's everywhere, not just our holy places.  And again, I can't help but imagine that this wouldn't be the case were god as much a She as a He. 

“Women HAVE a history that has been systematically suppressed. Our collective spirituality has largely been tainted to fit the needs of men and those in power. This has a profound effect on the self-esteem of girls and the women they become. This influence can be seen in their life choices, partners and financial security for the rest of their lives. It also has an effect on the way their future partners will view them - and ultimately treat them. Our girls deserve better. The time to introduce feminism and woman-centered spirituality to ALL children is now.”

― Trista Hendren

4.  We are disconnected from our bodies.

When I check out the patriarchal mores that pervade our culture, I see a blatant disregard for our bodies and our planet (and I don't think the two are disconnected).  Many of the male-dominated religions tell us that the body is bad/dirty/sinful.

But why?  What about our healthily functioning bodies is dirty, exactly? 

The divine masculine is, in my opinion, all about looking outside of ourselves, or up at god in heaven.  This is not inherently bad.  But it becomes an unbalanced mindset when we never look in any meaningful way inside ourselves, or down into the dark, harder, and no less holy parts of life.  And that's what the divine feminine is -- she's the inside, the dark, the night, the balancer of the outside, the light, the day.  To look at it another way, think of what kinds of crazy you'd be going if it was constantly day, or constantly night.  We need both. 

And really, could rape culture exist in a world where women's bodies are seen as symbols of god?  I have a hunch that the answer is no -- at least, not in the pervasive way that [sexual] violence against women flourishes today, and has flourished for centuries.

“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 accepted and in the very least, to be met without stereotyping.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves

5.  We are disconnected from nature.

Similar to how we are collectively disconnected form our bodies, we hear that the earth is here to be used/subdued/dominated (kind of like how patriarchy treats women, actually).  And that kind of top-down domination has led to a host of problems that will, sooner or later, spell our own destruction.  The divine feminine is not disconnected from the earth, but is one with nature -- there's a reason we call the planet Mother Earth.  She invites us into balanced practices that nurture our environments, and in turn sustain ourselves in body, mind, and soul.

“The symbol of Goddess gives us permission. She teaches us to embrace the holiness of every natural, ordinary, sensual dying moment. Patriarchy may try to negate body and flee earth with its constant heartbeat of death, but Goddess forces us back to embrace them, to take our human life in our arms and clasp it for the divine life it is - the nice, sanitary, harmonious moment as well as the painful, dark, splintered ones.

If such a consciousness truly is set loose in the world, nothing will be the same. It will free us to be in a sacred body, on a sacred planet, in sacred communion with all of it. It will infect the universe with holiness. We will discover the Divine deep within the earth and the cells of our bodies, and we will love her there with all our hearts and all our souls and all our minds.”

― Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter

Your turn: what do you think?  Why does the divine feminine matter?

photo by Maria Panayjotou under a Creative Commons license

photo by Maria Panayjotou under a Creative Commons license

this post contains affiliate links. thanks for supporting the blog!

In divine feminine
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