The mission, should you wish to take it...

After the River visualisation, shown in the last blog entry, I used the outline given by Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women Who Run With The Wolves as a guide to the basic tools of the journey, the ways in which we can encourage our wolf spirit to come out and howl. Here are those 10 basic needs for reconnecting with the wild, with a little homegrown adaptation:

1. Receive nurturing: allow yourself to receive compliments and nurturing and use these to send your Harpies back to their own lands;

2. Respond: creativity is the ability to respond to our lived experience, using all means available to us. Practice deepening your response to your own experience, thoughts, feelings and dreams. Keeping a journal is a good way of doing this;

3. Be wild: let ideas, thoughts and consciousness stream uncensored - jump into the full flow of the river. Try the intuitive writing practice daily to get familiar with this kind of listening;

4. Begin: have a go, even if it is scary - if you are afraid of failure, begin now. It is not failure that holds us back, but our reluctance to begin. Take a good look at your fears and your harpies that hold you back - give them a voice and then answer them!

5. Protect your time: Stake a firm claim on your creative time and nail a do not disturb sign to that door - do not banish your creativity to stolen moments. There is no such thing as spare time, so make space for your creation and wild journey a priority;

6. Stay with it: Let your dreams carry you, and refuse to cooperate with the oppression of your spirit. When you see your spirit being abused, polluted or starved, show your claws and fight for your survival;

7. Protect your creative life: practice your creative work every day and connect with the energy of that creative fire, even if it is just for 5 moments a day. Plant the seed and grow it!

8: Craft your real work: protect and nurture your soul and your real journey. Insist on a creative life, one that engages you with your full feeling, your sensuality and passion and inquisitiveness. Enjoy your wild spirit - get to know it and let it help you understand the path you are on, and give you the courage to follow it;

9: Be willing to listen: sometimes on this journey, the creative river turns up something you do not want to hear. Be willing to listen with an honest heart. Even if you are not able to act on what you hear right at that time, be willing to acknowledge its truth and your current active choice in the situation;

10: Nourish your creative life: this basically sums up the other 8 guides - by giving your creative life the basic ingredients it needs to thrive, you will reconnect with the Wild Woman (or man) within you. These are: space and time; understanding and listening; passion and enthusiasm; respect and love.

And remember - dare to dream!

A page a day keeps the doctor away...

Following on from the last chapter in the adventure, I thought I would share with you the following journal extract that came from my own Clearing the River exercise, back in 1999. It is strange and also uplifting to return to these writings, to read what signs and messages came through at the time. That is why I find keeping a daily such an important part of the journey of being a Wild Woman and a writer. It allows me to listen closely to the intuitive voice, to stay in touch and to remember that this is the voice beyond all external voices.

Extract from the Clearing the River visualisation - March 1999

By the riverside, the tall larch trees grow
threadbare in winter coats of lichen green.
The sun shines on the water, low milky light
refracted through a spectrum lens.
I am halfway up the gorge, my fingers
red and dirty with clay that crumbles at my touch.
A woman comes to me, with moon-milk skin
and stars for her eyes, singing quietly to herself.
The river flows. I sit on the ledge, alone.

She calls to me. I catch her gift.
I have a star in the palm of my hand.

You, Star-Goddess, woman of mine, have left it here.
You stroke my cheek and brush my hair,
lay my head upon your breast.
Now rest, you say, rest.

She places a star upon my head,
another in my womb.
I reach inside my mouth,
take out an apple seed to plant.

The tree grows strong, with blossom rich and full.
I open my hands and see
a hundred stars, rain diamonds
caught by the nets in seas of turquoise and monarch green.
And so I sit, with the sun, the stars and the blossom
of the tree I planted from my seed.

All energy works best when in harmony.
The boat I have built is strong.
Ride the edge of the wave, swim the river of life.
Without a road, there is no reason to move.
Without a path, there is no purpose to heal.
Travel with the care of love and respect.
Only you can give these things away.
No one can steal them from you.
Live a little, dream a little.
Hold a hand at sunrise, walk in sunset.
See tiny bubbles of life in the water.
Sometimes calm, sometimes fizz,
this is how a full life is.
Ride the river and live this way,
both calm and wild; alive.

Come to the fire, look into it.
What must die so it can thrive?
The past, the past must die.
What must be nourished so it can live?
The Wild Soul that seeks food and love.
Know that you have been in exile all your life.
Embrace the edge of the wave and end your exile.

I must shed my clothes and stand naked in my grief.
I must cry the tears that would fill a hundred seas.
Clear away the old and let the new shoots grow.
I put my hands to the earth and dig.
A single crop of blood falls, new life takes hold.
I enter into the desert, its sand blown by a hot wind.
I meet myself in the emptiness, but not alone.
I sprinkle the garden with stars.

It is not magic, she tells me
but still, I can spread light.

(Victoria Bennett)

Journals give away a lot too. When I look back, I can see the times I was avoiding listening deeply by the pages and pages of trivia that purposefully refuses to see the blindingly obvious. I am able to see where I am repeating the same cycles, where the old harpies rise up, where the deep song speaks and where I grow too, and how far I have come, even when it can feel like staying still. Sharing our journal writing has been an important part of our group journey, and it is also a safe space for our own, private experiences.

In between the pages, the true voice can learn to sing. I know of many women who begin their journeys hiding their writing, finding inventive ways to take time out to write in their secret journals, hiding them in cisterns or under carpets. The Wild Woman is cunning. She always finds a a way of giving that space to howl, so that one day, when you are ready, you can just come right out and howl in public, with pride and passion!

EXERCISE
If you haven't already got one, go out and buy yourself a journal. Some people like to have plain notebooks, others like to have something ornate. Sometimes, I like to have the cheapest of children's exercise books, so I don't feel precious about scrawling in the pages. Whatever draws you to it, choose your journal as your friend, and begin to make space for writing every day. If you here a voice saying: "but I don't have the time" - you are hearing a HARPY (we will come to those later!) If you are doing this, here is a tip: everyone needs to go to the toilet, and it is usually the one place with a lock on the door. Start by writing your journal on the loo for 5 minutes a day. If nothing else, you will probably unblock something!

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.

Around the cookfire...

The friendships formed through the shared creative celebration of Wild Women are very important to us. In this transient, disjointed world, it is all too easy to lose touch with the value of simply sharing with other women. The sharing of creativity, stories, songs, poems, tears and laughter around the fire has been a deep female tradition for thousands of years, and yet, we are strangely disconnected from that community nowadays. One of the things that felt very important in starting Wild Women, was the creation of that shared supportive space. Not in the sense of a therapy group, but in the sense of a life sharing circle. And it was very apparent right from the start, that the old traditions were alive and well within us.

One of those was food - the sharing of and eating. I asked every participant to bring something to share for lunch. Right from the first session, this wonderful parade of dishes appeared, and as Adam prepared them in the kitchen, we shared our stories, wrote our poems and travelled our journeys. On return, we joined for a feast and there was certainly no mention of dieting! Infact, it was obviously such a central part of our union, that I extended the workshop time by an hour to give time for the eating! Eventually, this sharing of cooking and eating filtered into our writing, and became our second anthology "Hot Pot of Passion: A Sensual Celebration of Food" The book was written from a series of workshops that I lead, and edited by a group member Julie Stebbings. It was completely vegetarian, even the poems, and combined poems, recipes and love spells, celebrating the nourishment and sensuality of the Wild Women - and the first of its kind to be published - but here I am jumping ahead of ourselves!

On that subject though, one of our later members, Yvonne, has agreed to share with us her memories of Wild Women. Yvonne joined Wild Women on our 1 year anniversary, and it seemed as though she had always been with us! Although she did not take part in the first journey, the timing seemed just right, and she was soon a fully fledged 'wildie'. A dedicated healer and spiritual woman, Yvonne also has a passionate and wild side that I think is evident in her early poetry - and certainly in her dancing! She now lives in Scotland, and is a Reiki and crystal healer and Nia dance guide, but we meet for our annual retreats and at other gatherings. Here is her story, in her words...

Yvonne (left) and I at the launch of Hot Pot of Passion,
held at the Penrith Ballroom.
My favourite was the notice downstairs that read
"Wild Women in the Ball Room"!

'I joined Wild Women a number of months after it had first started, invited by Sal and Vikki who I already knew. I can remember setting off from Northumberland where I lived at that time in glorious sunshine and feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension at joining an already established (indeed published!) group of women, when I had never done any creative writing myself. I needn’t have worried about not being accepted as everyone was really friendly and welcoming, and as interested in the gorgeous food for lunch as much as writing! I felt a bit out of depth as far as the writing went, as they were just starting work on the anthology ‘Hot Pot of Passion’, but felt incredibly proud at having a poem or two published (even if I didn’t think they were as good as the rest!) – Self-criticism was never allowed, so it’ll be interesting to see whether Vik prints this on her blog . . . . ☺ (I don't agree with Yvonne, but in the interest of honesty - yes, I have left that bit in!!! Vik) I still have some wonderful friends from the group and experienced their love and support when things were rough. In fact I know I can always count on their loving support if I hit the rocks again, which makes my heart smile in gratitude.'

And here is one of the poems from Yvonne, published in Hot Pot of Passion (the line layout has been affected by blog contraints and does not appear as it does in the book!):

If I Were a Three Course Meal

To start, I shall enliven your taste buds,
a variety of crisp green and red lettuce and rocket,
roughly chopped with tender tendrils of spring onion,
sweet and pungent, and a sprinkling of
dark earthy pumpkin seeds to add crunch.
Now comes the sensuous creamy slices of avocado
slithering around the glass bowl.
Next, toss in splashes of olive oil, tamari and lemon juice.
Serve, and enjoy the contrast of crunchy and smooth.

Now your taste buds have been jangled and are ready for the
feast.
Succulent vegetables grilled in olive oil
and shards of black peppercorns,
served with hot jersey pots glistening as the butter tumbles
slowly at first, then like an avalanche towards the base of the
dish.
Titbits of freshly picked chives garnish the top like confetti.
Then the spears, with their green and purple tips,
languishing seductively in the pool of melted juices.

Feeling sated? But we're not finished yet!
Here is my bowl of temptress fruits.
Cherries red and plump, soft pink raspberries brimming with
juice.
Red grapes, tart on the outside but surprisingly sweet within.
And the lovers' fruit, strawberries,
already dipped in sugar and cream
and licked clean before tasting their sweet red juices!

CREATIVE EXERCISE
Now your turn...the creative exploration was to imagine yourself as a food or a meal - what would you be, what food or meal could describe the person you are? Now, write yourself from that perspective... and see what you cook up!

From Small Seeds...

The commitment that each woman made on that first day of Wild Women was deep and life changing. I don't think any of us knew where it would take us, and that was both exciting and scary. It is much easier after all to stay within our safety zones, rather than to wake up and realise who we are and what path we are on. Of course, it is a long and circuitous path - and we often pass ourselves along they way, but ever since that first moment, the Wild Woman has had a voice!

Today, another member of that first meeting has offered to share with us the small seed of that beginning...

Gill Hands before a reading at the Poetry Cafe 2007 -
at the start of Wild Women she was terrified by reading in public!
Now you can't stop her...

Gill Hands was one of the first 12 women to join Wild Women, and since then we have published a great deal of her poetry, including 2 full collections, Internet Love Slut and Rilke Tattoo. Her voice is totally original and at once, bold and sexual; delicate and tentative. I have had the pleasure of performing with Gill a number of times, including at Glastonbury Festival in 2005. Not only has she fully come out as a poet, but she has explored her creativity and being in so many ways I couldn't begin to recount them here!

In the spirit of this blog, Gill agreed to share with us the following extracts from her journal, written in the first week of Wild Women - where we see the Wild Woman she is emerging between the pages:

"sat-13 march Really enjoyed the [Wild Women] writing workshop today and felt empowered. It was exciting to meet other people who feel the same way about writing as I do. So many seemed to have had their passion for writing sucked or knocked out of them. Well now we are going to claim it back! sun 14 Something is opening up inside me, a bit muddled and hesitant. I started crying in the bath last night. Things are starting to move and I'm not sure if I want to be a wild woman. It rubs off the nice comfortable rounded corners and leaves you with raw edges. I need to know who I am and be me before I can take off and fly. mon 15 Spent ages cleaning up and messing about rather than write. Very erratic in the brain today. Part of me is very optomistic but there is a horrible foreboding of doom that is very unpleasant. I don't want to look at the reasons why just now. sat 20 Had a bad harpy moment- worrying about what poems to read for the last session of the Higham Hall writing course. They all seem crap. How can I read any of them in front of the pussy bow ladies? If I use the word minge they will die. one of my harpies must be being 'nice' and not writing anything disturbing. (well I do write it but I don't show it to anyone.) I asked Brian if I should cheat and put some in by Ted Hughes to see if anyone would notice. He said why? does he write crap poems too? so I told him to fuck off. when I rang Ruth she was very supportive and told me not to be embarrased as my poems are good and to imagine the pussy bow ladies in the nude on the toilet."

Gill has since used words much more challenging than minge, and has had her poetry once described as 'the wrong shade of lavender' by a reviewer. You can see more of her poetry on www.wildwomenpress.com, and you can follow her surreal journey by visiting her blog on http://darkblondes.blogspot.com.

For now, I leave you with the first poem from her second collection Rilke Tattoo, published October 2006 by Wild Women Press. In this wonderful and unsettling collection, the POET descends into the abyss of creativity, revealing in surreal, witty and sometimes disarmingly vulnerable vignettes the process and inspiration behind the writing of poetry and the all important, and challenging self- acceptance of one's own voice. I love Gill's work and I love sharing the journey with her.

THE POET Speaks

I will make myself
THE POET
in big black capitals.

Less painful than RILKE
inscribed on my arm,
less complicated than upside-down writing
on a T shirt
with the message to myself…

“YOU ARE A POET, THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.”

I will refer to myself in the third person;
will write THE POET did this,

or that,

or the other.

Lately, it has been the other.

(Rilke Tattoo, copyright Gill Hands, published Wild Women Press 2006)

The Group Contract

A Wild Howl
from me and some of the members of the first Wild Women group
(as Ruth pointed out the other day - we've been going so long our first picture is in SEPIA!)

In that very first meeting, I encouraged the group to get to know each other, dividing them into pairs and asking that they introduce themselves, telling their partner the story of who they were, including 3 things that did not include the usual subjects (e.g. what their relationship status was/what they did) but instead to share something of themselves that was unique to them, and something also that was hidden - a fear and a secret desire or wish. We then introduced our partner to the group and listened to our stories. This enabled us to meet each other on a much deeper level than normal, and also set the way for the honest sharing that is the hallmark of the Wild Women group. It also lead to the interesting experience later on of knowing the deepest thins about one another, but not knowing each other's surnames!

It was an important thing to do, and I remember feeling so honoured to share in those beautiful stories, that even then shared joys, sadness and hope.

I then asked the group to share what was important to them in these meetings, what they needed to feel safe, what they wanted to receive from each other. From this we wrote our Group Contract and this became our guide over the next 10 meetings, and also became embedded in the journey we took. It helped us to remember what we promised to each other, and also to ourselves, what we had promised by way of nurturing the Wild Woman in our souls. In many ways, it is still at the bedrock of our clan and our way of living.

So, here it is, after all these years...

We, the Wild Women agree to:

Honour and nurture the Wild Woman Spirit in ourselves and each other;

Respect each other, our needs, views, beliefs, dreams, ideas and thoughts;

Be proud of our creativity and share our creative expressions
with pride, confidence and without apology!

Work together to create a safe space for each individual to
explore, express and celebrate their unique self;

Be nurturing of each other's creativity;

Offer "loving honesty" in a positive and supportive way;

Offer validation of each other's ideas, thoughts, dreams;

Be open and unconditional in our positive regard for each other;

Be non-judgmental in our attitudes, beliefs and comments;

Speak from the I and own our ideas and thoughts;

Offer positive encouragement;

Acknowledge our own and each other's specialness;

Maintain confidentiality within the group and to be clear when we are
sharing something that we wish to remain only within the group;

Be clear and assertive with our needs and wants;

Be willing to HAVE A GO, even when it feels a bit strange
and scary, and to support each other in this!

This last one was, and is still, really important. Through that willingness to take those leaps of faith, we have discovered so much. Without it, it is too easy to remain in the comfort zone of being who we think we 'should be', instead of discovering and celebrating who we are. But the journey is one rich with challenge and reward, as we were to discover, because once you step off, you find no matter how much you want to go back at times, you can't. The Wild Woman is awake and she isn't going back!

The First Time...

The meeting of Wild Women was special for us all. Sometimes it feels as though it was unavoidable. Ruth Snowden was one of the first Wild Women to join us. Infact, I sometimes think that Ruth "knitted" the notion in my mind! Now, Ruth is called White Owl by many, and I recently discovered that when she had been writing in her journal for somewhere to meet other wild women, I had been walking in my local countryside and had stumbled upon a white owl in a tree. She (the owl) and I just stared at each other for a while before we went our own ways, but I remember feeling distinctly spoken to at the time! A week later I had the dream about Wild Women. Over the years, we have experienced many such 'strange experiences' - so much so that we no longer call them strange!

I have had the pleasure of sharing the journey with her since that initial encounter, and I asked Ruth if she would share with us her memory of the very first meeting of Wild Women (in human form!) and what it has meant for her. This is her story...thanks Ruth for sharing your tale...

Joining Wild Women

"I can still remember sitting on the sofa at Vik’s place, deep in the countryside at Whale, the day of that first meeting. I was waiting for the others to arrive and already I felt an inner peace seeping into my bones, a feeling of `rightness’. As I watched woman after woman walking in, dressed in interesting, creative and artistic clothes, I thought to myself yes! Here they are at last – the people like me. This is my tribe! I was not wrong. I was three years into my career as a professional writer, with numerous articles in magazines and newspapers and my first book Working with Dreams already under my belt – but I was yet to discover my real passion and my true voice. My inner poet had been gagged and bound since I went to university at eighteen and I was afraid to stand up and say this is me, this is who I really am. That day, guided by Vik, I began a journey of self-discovery that was to plunge me head-long into the sea of my own soul. We wrote for our lives, witnessed one another’s tears and triumphs, did wild drumming and dancing, shared sumptuous feasts and ate an abundance of chocolate. There was no going back, nor would I ever want to. From that day on I have always been proud to stand up in the darkness, throw my arms wide to the moon and howl I am a Wild Woman."

Since that first day, Ruth has published many beautiful poems with Wild Women Press, and we released her first collection in 2004, called Green Dusk for Dreams.


One of the first things I noticed about Ruth's voice was her uncanny ability to jump through time to inhabit other people, places and even, at times, species! Hers is an evocative, feminine voice that is both tender and fierce, as a Wild Woman is. Here is the first poem in that collection:

The Morning After

She woke in damp grey dawn,
trying to claw her way back down into sleep;
her limbs numb from the cold stone floor;
her mind screaming at the unreality of it all
and the silence now that they had gone.

Had there been shepherds, kneeling before her?
Rough faces, bristly, pushing to get a look?
Ordinary folk, struggling in with baskets of bread, olives, figs?
Was there frankincense coiling from the mean fire?
The sharp smell of myrrh, calling up deep memory,
stirring unseen presences in the dark?

The babe whimpered, nuzzling for more,
stretching hands like tiny stars.
Then he paused, letting the nipple fall
from his slack mouth rimmed with curdy milk.
He burped, dribbled; gazed right at her
with ancient opal eyes that saw all things.

She wrapped him close, tight against the fear
that ran like rats in shadowed corners.
Wishing he were not a God; tearing him
from the chasm of another, distant, morning.

(Green Dusk For Dreams, Wild Women Press, 2004 Copyright: Ruth Snowden)

You can find out more about Ruth's ongoing adventure by visiting her blog Journal of a Wise Woman...and she will be back with us on our Wild Woman adventure with more tales of magic, mystery and creative journeying.