...stories that rise from deep suffering can provide the most potent remedies for past, present, and even future ills.

Be wild; that is how to clear the river.

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.

...stories that rise from deep suffering can provide the most potent remedies for past, present, and even future ills.

So, let us push on now, and remember ourselves back to the wild soul. Let us sing her flesh back onto our bones.

The most important thing is to hold on, hold out, for your creative life, for your solitude, for your time to be and do, for your very life.

When women hear those words, an old, old memory is stirred and brought back to life. The memory is of our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may have become ghostly from neglect, buried by over-domestication, outlawed by the surrounding culture, or no longer understood anymore. We may have forgotten her names, we may not answer when she calls ours, but in our bones we know her, we yearn toward her, we know she belongs to us and we to her.