Clearing the River...

The Grieving Mother
Image Copyright Adam Clarke

I was deeply inspired by the book "Women Who Run with the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. A funny tale really...I had kept the book on my shelf for a few years, occasionally retrieving it to read and returning it, finding it dense and impenetrable. Then, one day I picked it up and read it through in 3 days flat, barely able to lift my head from the pages. It spoke to me in ways that I was ready to hear and my own Wild Woman was called. Since then, I have heard many women say "oh yes - I have that book but I could never really get into it"...I reply that it is the kind of book that finds you if you need it, when you need it. I am indebted to the wisdom and stories of Clarissa P.E, as these formed the backbone of the first workshops I ran with Wild Women, combining what she taught me, with the intuition that guided me towards establishing the group in the first place.

One of the very first stories I used from her work was that of La Llorona. As I readied myself to share it around the fire, I warned the women gathered that it was not a happy tale, but one of sadness, betrayal and loss. I remember that as I read it, some of the women began to weep quietly, their souls responding at a deep level. Afterwards, I introduced the practice of 'intuitive writing' - this was to become a cornerstone of every meeting and is the practice of writing without stopping or censorship for a period of time. It is demanding, freeing and exhausting!

I asked of each of us to write intuitively for a short while, without stopping, about our own 'rivers' - what had we polluted them with? What dreams and ideas had we given birth to with no arms or legs, only to throw them away and then live with the loss? How were we the woman dredging that river, day after night? After we shared these in our circle, I asked the women to close their eyes and relax and we travelled on a visualisation, where we imagined the river as it was now, and then, slowly saw the clean, fresh water cleaning through the sludge until it ran clear. For some, this happened quickly. For others, it took time and repetitions. It is one I often return to - checking in to see what waste my river is full of and chucking out the odd supermarket trolley and old wellington boot!

With thanks to the author, I repeat La Llorona here for you, as it appears in Women Who Run With The Wolves:

"There was once a rich and powerful hidalgo who owned many factories along the banks of a great river. he had much wealth but was lonely. Each day, he would see the figure of a young woman, walking softly along the riverside, singing gently to herself. The words and songs would drift out over the water and on the wing up into his dark and dusty office. The woman was poor but her beauty was beyond compare. her hair flowed long behind her and glinted in the sun just as the dancing water that raced along the river's path and her voice was as sweet as the dew fresh nectar of the golden mango. It was not long before the rich hidalgo decided he wated her for himself and, being a man of much determination, he kept on until he had her heart. Each day, as his factories would churn and belch along the green river banks, the hidalgo and the river woman would slip away to a secret glan and there they would make love. Then the woman would swim naked in the water, diving deep down to the river bed to bring up emerald treasures for her lover. It came about that the woman bore two sons, twin boys, but they were born blind and deaf, with no arms or feet. The doctors told her it was the water from the river that had poisoned her, so full it was with the waste from her lovers factories. The woman wept when she saw them for she felt that she could not care for them. The hidalgo, on seeing his sons, turned away from the woman and pretended not to know her. Soon after, he married another woman - a rich woman who craved the things he made in his factories that polluted the river. Desperate, the woman bundled her babies on cloth and tied them with rope and stones and threw them into the river. Immediately after they sank to the bottom, the woman fell to her knees and howled, her grief was too much to bear. It broke her soul into a thousand fragments and she fell to the ground dead. Her soul rose up but it was sent back, tied to the earth until she could find the lost souls of her two innocents and so she began to search the river, up and down its miles of water, from the fall of the sun to the first break of dawn, to no avail. Night after night, she searches but she can hardly see through the dark and dirty water, each year that passes it grows more polluted. her ghost drags the river bed with her long, spindly fingers and her grey matted hair trawls through the stagnant water. All the time, she is calling for her children, unable to rest until she has found their lost souls."

It is a very powerful exercise, and one that felt important to begin with. Why not try it for yourself?

EXERCISE
Read through the above story - or have someone read it to you. When you are ready, pick up your pen and notebook, bring to mind your own 'river' and what you have polluted it with, or thrown away, and write for 10 minutes without stopping, reading through or correcting. Read this back to yourself and share if it feels appropriate. Now, find yourself a comfortable place to lie or sit, relax yourself through some deep breathing, becoming conscious of your own body and breath and let all else fade away. Now, bring into your mind your river - full of its stinking sludge and rot and see a clear stream fighting through. As you pull out the river weeds and rubbish, the stream gets stronger and stronger, clearing away with it deep troughs of waste and slime, until the river flows free and clean. Keep at this until the water flows freely. When you are ready, become conscious of your breath and body again and return to the room. Write again for 10 minutes, allowing the images and emotions from this experience to flow through into your writing. Share if it feels ok to do that.