29/07/2021
This.
"The spiritual journey does not promise comfortable travel, and a woman who runs screaming from all things known does not do so seeking happiness; she does so seeking a truer version of herself.
The evenings she spends alone and crying or raging most righteously, torturous as they are, are worthy of honor. They are the stuff of poetry, and they are the deepest, impassioned hues that render a lifescape a beautiful masterpiece full of shadow and light."
"The truths she wears on her back — the knowledge that her time in the garden was both necessary and well worth the agony, along with a strange, often unsettling acknowledgment that there is beauty in her quite painful new-found longing — are her most prized possessions; she has earned them, after all. The rules she writes now are those that have been tattooed on her bones since she was in the womb, long before she sat caged in the too-small life. These rules are born of those precious truths, but the wild woman realizes now, as her bare feet pound the red ground with infinite purpose, that she has always known her real rules, rules she did not need to read in any book of verses or recite to authority figures for sweet reward. Her house rules were written by the ancient, wild hand, and she has been reciting them in her dreams since she was a babe."
"A woman expresses the Priestess of the Wild Earth archetype, becoming whole unto herself, when she enacts an embodied knowing that she is a living altar, holy ground in her own right, and she needs no external validation. She comes home to the wilds. She writes her own house rules, and she claims her heathen’s birthright to live on uncultivated spiritual ground."
~ Danielle Dulsky
art | Tin Can Forest
