Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events half understood and half remembered...
Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing.
One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.
The wild woman is fluent in the language of dreams, images, passion, and poetry.
Be proud of your scars. They have everything to do with your strength, and what you’ve endured. They’re a treasure map to the deep self.
The deterioration of symbols is natural. They wear out, needing to be reclaimed, recreated; returned to the spirit.
If logic was anything, all men would ride sidesaddles...
We all wish to be brave and strong in the face of disaster. We all wish to be looked up to for our endurance and efforts to help others.
Without art we live under the illusion that there is only time, and not eternity.
Though her soul requires seeing, the culture around her requires sightlessness. Though her soul wishes to speak its truth, she is pressured to be silent.
Latina women are proud to be called Mrs. That simply means that we have a family.
If women were in charge of everything, there would be women tyrants. If black people were in charge, there would be black tyrants. If Hispanics were in charge, then Hispanic tyrants.
Anytime we feed soul, it guarantees increase.
Art is not meant to be created in stolen moments only.
Ritual is one of the ways in which humans put their lives in perspective, whether it be Purim, Advent, or drawing down the moon. Ritual calls together the shades and specters in people’s lives, sorts them out, puts them to rest.
Asking the proper question is the central act of transformation!
Stories are medicine.
Failure is a greater teacher than success.
I became married at a young age and had two daughters and divorced at 26. I had to go on welfare to make ends meet. I had no way to support myself.
It’s not the failure that holds us back but the reluctance to begin over again that causes us to stagnate.
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?