Who is this wild woman that you talk about?
Is she the one in the portraits and photographs with crazy hair, a fire in her eyes holding her sword, wearing her primal outfits of designer shapes and colours perfectly clad as it fits her slim lined body, with a perfect face of makeup from a bottle and brush, that was first tested on raw animal skin just to be sure it was safe for her?
Is she the one that roars at others, demanding justice, fighting for the rights in order to claim she has played her part?
Is she the one who imagines that wild nature is fierce and forthright throwing caution to the wind, Believing that to dance without a care in the world means she is free?
Do we really know what the wild woman is?
I have been tired of glossy images, and new-age interpretations that even use the artefacts and headdresses of our native sisters, to prove some kind of lineage or bespoke claim of a primal life-force.
I have been tired of the notion that we all strive to be her without even knowing what she is.
Not one of us can say we are wild and free, as long as we conform to the standards of society’s grip, as long as we succumb to the payments of a corporate system or offer our labours to ones that would rule with an iron fist.
Not one of us can utter a word of honest authentic nature if we are part of that system that would harm another or even clothe our bodies with fabrics from a factory of sweat and toil and a meagre allowance that would barely feed the family pet.
No, wildness comes from stillness, the quiet unspoken observations of the animal protecting her young. The watching and waiting for the right moment when the kill can set in, in order to feed her offspring.
The waiting, the resting, the nourishing, the feeding, the keeping warm, she is a mistress of the stillness and the quiet, for if not she will not feed that day, she will miss the opportunities.
She will be carried into the thoughts of man who says she is not enough, so she will hectically attempt to live her life to the fullest, forgetting the seasons, forgetting the environmental connections and where vanity sets in
she will be too concerned with what others think of her and how they look and speak to her.
When she forgets the silence she is no longer wild, she is a thinking machine that has lost her way and has no idea where her spirit lies.
In the wild heart she is not indoctrinated with a man’s opinions and portrayals of what her perfect being should look like.
She knows her purpose in life and will remain sure footed till the last breath, in order to insist that she is in service to the greater good and not hypnotised by wealth or stature.
She watches and waits with a keen eye in order to rectify lost opportunities, she unravels the knots of her traumatic past, recognising that freedom means releasing the victim and making friends with her history and all of her experiences.
She knows how to heal the wounds as she licks them clean with no blame or curse on the perpetrator.
She is kind and loving to all, without expectation of reward, she knows right from wrong and is prepared to admit to her own mistakes.
She can be aged with haggard lines across her face, her body soft as the skin lessens it’s taught sinewy expressions.
Her joints might ache but she will dance a gentle dance deeply connected to the rhythms of her heart.
She can be of many an age.
But make no mistake, she can be all of these, but the wild and free more often takes maturity and a deeper understanding of the meaning of life.
For only then can she be truly free in her heart, body and mind, where she is not limited with the expectations of others she has no need to conform to society’s models.
She sees beyond the glossy imagery and the illusion, she just knows how to be herself.
Caroline Carey
Middle Earth Medicine
Join us to explore The Power Of 13
A new moon course evoking what the wild means to you in connection with the new moons of the year and 13 feminine archetypes.
