clarissa pinkola estes – St GEORGIA & Boo

words and lemon thyme butter biscuits

‘It is worse to stay where one does not belong at all than to wonder about lost for a while and looking for a psychic and soulful kinship one requires. It is never a mistake to search for what one requires. Never.’

-Clarissa Pinkola Estes

She has up until this point tried to go without her soul life. That was never going to be enough. There comes a time when beginning again is necessary. Stripping back the layers of any delusions she has built up around herself over the years, revealing what lies beneath. This will take sometime, many moments requiring patients and the deepest of commitment to herself. She will begin the decent, travelling the road into the depths of her own intricate self. It could possibly be the most important journey she is ever going to take. For some, this time never comes, for others it comes with great fears attached, tremendous risks or copious hurts. The beginning of the decent usually comes without choice, it presents with a sense of urgency, it is a matter of survival, not of the hungry kind, we are talking about something much deeper than that. One where she knows, if she allows things to remain the same, that she most definitely will not survive. That any truth of her own will be lost, that she will lose her ‘self’ in this life she is moving through. There is a part in the back of her mind that is all-consuming with a terrifying fear, one that she has never before experienced, one that says don’t do it, stay here, safe and hidden in this story you have created for yourself. It is here in this moment that she must gather all that she knows to be true about herself, draw deeply on her faith and instinctual self and go, in a way that she knows she must. It is here, where she let’s go, of all that she knows to be true, of any safe haven she had, leaving her only with her own vulnerability in the palms of her hands. She does ‘this in order to learn her way, in order to clear her way, to the true and wild self.’

lemon thyme butter biscuits

ingredients:125 g butter,softened,100g caster sugar,1 free-range egg,200g plain flour,zest of 2 lemons,¼ teaspoon baking powder,1 pinch sea salt,3 tablespoons demerara sugar, juice of a lemon, 1/3cup icing sugar, Few sprigs of thyme

method: Beat the butter and sugar in a bowl with an electric mixer until light and creamy. Add the egg and beat until light and fluffy. Add the flour, lemon zest, baking powder and salt and mix until you have a ball of dough. Cover and place in the fridge for 1 hour, or until firm.
Preheat your oven to 180°C. Roll out the dough on a floured surface until ½cm thick. Using a cookie cutter, cut the dough into desired shape and place onto a lined baking tray. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until the edges are light brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before icing. Mix the icing sugar and add the juice of a lemon slowly until the desired consistency is reached, aim for thick pouring cream consistency, too thin and it will run off the biscuits. Sprinkle with demerara sugar and tiny sprigs of thyme. Set in the fridge for an hour before serving. Place in a jar or air tight container in the fridge to keep.

Slightly varied butter biscuit recipe, Jamie Oliver, Ref -Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women who run with the wolves

the woman within

I had two watershed experiences when I was in my early twenties, experiences that went against everything I had been taught about my body up to then. While at a women’s weeklong gathering and at night at the fire near the hot springs, I saw a naked woman of about thirty-five; her breasts were emptied out by childbearing her belly strained from birthing children. I was very young and I remember feeling sorry for the assaults on her fair and thin skin.

Some one was playing.. and she began to dance, her hair, her breasts, her skin, her limbs all moving in different directions. How beautiful she was, how vital. Her grace was heartbreaking. … that night I saw it. I saw what I had been taught to ignore, the power of a womans body when it is animated from the inside.

-Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

begin here, with your daughters and sons, mothers fight the ever-growing war against this illusion of sculpting our bodies as though we were not born perfectly into this world. Teach your daughters to love themselves from the inside out. Teach your sons that we are perfect in all our flaws, that really the flaws are an illusion in its self. That our bodies are going to grow and change as we do, that never throughout our lives will we stay the same nor should we feel we have to. It is in our child baring years that we feel this most. It is in these years that loving ourselves and the body we wear needs our greatest admiration, for how perfectly they are able to stretch and define themselves around new life, sometimes leaving us with deep blue and purple scars that remain as reminders of how we once carried another within ourselves. Let us rid ourselves of this belief that we are meant to conceptually fit some unattainable idea of ourselves, before and after we carry our children. Let us change the minds of our teenage daughters and ease them of the heavy burdens they believe their bodies to be. Let us teach our sons to look deeper, that the real beauty of a woman lies deep within her layers, that they will never find what they are looking for if they are only ever to look at her from the outside.

women who run with the wolves

Each woman has potential access to Rio Abajo Rio, the-river- beneath-the-river. She arrives there through deep meditation, dance, writing, painting…or any activity which requires intense altered consciousness. A woman arrives in this world-between- worlds through yearning and by seeking something she can see just out the corner of her eye. She arrives there by deeply creative acts, through intentional solitude… much of what occurs in this ineffable world remains forever mysterious to us, for it breaks physical laws and rational laws as we know them.’

I’ll tell you right now, 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 that 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.

The Self must have freedom to move, to speak, to be angry and to create. This self is durable, resilient, and possesses high intuition. It is a self which is knowledgable in the spiritual dealings of death and birth.

…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 Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves

There is a fire that burns within us, no woman is excluded from this. At times it lies dormant, waiting for long drawn out periods, with great patience, for right timing to ignite it to its full force. Women know this to be true. Some are closer to it than others. For some it burns as a quiet tinder,others a ravishing burn or a ferocious flame. The closer we come to ourselves, often after long treks down broken roads and undesired outcomes, we become tired of the search and finally surrender to all that we are in our mysterious ways, we decide to return home. With surrender, comes tremendous acceptance of ourselves despite what the world is saying. We let go of everything and in doing so find everything. We discover that we are essentially all that we ever needed, and it isn’t necessary to better, or move or change ourselves, all that is ever really necessary is to unfold from the inside out. And as Clarissa Pinkola Estes says, in Women Who Run With the Wolves,’Entering the terrain of wisdom occurs at any age. We sometimes step, sometimes stumble, and other times we are pulled into the territory of the Crone when the need for a deeper, larger understanding of our most meaningful path can no longer be denied—when the gifts hidden in our challenges must be brought forth.’