Stories Are Medicine.

Like All Other Lonely Or Hungry Things, Ego Loves The Light. It Sees Light, And The Possibility Of Being Close To The Soul, And It Creeps Up To It And Steals One Of Its Essential Camouflages. In A Hunger For Soul, Our Own Ego-self Steals The Pelt

All Strong Souls First Go To Hell Before They Do The Healing Of The World They Came Here For. If We Are Lucky, We Return To Help Those Still Trapped Below.

The Quintessential Feminine Self Stands At The Center Of The Psyche And It Is Wild, Meaning Natural And Free, And Utterly Wise. It Is Not 'something' We Must Strive To Create. This Self Is Already Fully Present, Burning Strong And Waiting For Us To Come Into Its Presence.

If You Have Never Been Called A Defiant, Incorrigible, Impossible Woman… Have Faith. There Is Yet Time.

With The Wild Nature As Ally And Teacher We See Not Through Two Eyes But Through The Many Eyes Of Intuition. With Intuition We Are Like The Starry Night, We Gaze At The World Through A Thousand Eyes. The Wild Woman Is Fluent In The Language Of Dreams, Images, Passion, And Poetry.