Now I' m happy to introduce you to the woman skeleton part five the
house, when the heart is a lone hunter. The woman skeletons the confrontation
with the nature of life, death, life of love. Wolves are very
good at relationships. Anyone who has observed the behavior of wolves will have realized
the depth of their bonds. Couples are usually for life, even though there
are conflicts and disagreements between partners. Their strong ties allow them to overcome them
and meet together hard winters, numerous spring, long walks, new, littered,
old, predatory, tribal dances and choral songs. The relationship needs of
human beings do not differ too much from their own. While the instinctive life
of wolves is characterized by loyalty and lasting bonds of trust and affection, humans
sometimes encounter difficulties in these matters. If we discovered the strong links that are
registered between wolves in archetypal terms, we would say that the integrity of their
relationships derives from their synchronization with the ancient pattern of all nature, which I
call the cycle of life death life. The nature of life death life is
a cycle of birth, development, decline and death, always followed by a
rebirth. This cycle influences all physical life and all facets of psychological life.
All the sun, the novas and the moon and also the affairs of human
beings and of all the tiniest creatures of cells and atoms. It also presents
this palpitation followed by a hesitating and another palpitation. Unlike humans, wolves do
not think that the ups and downs of life, energy, strength, food
or opportunities are surprising or constitute punishment for peaks and valleys. It is so
simply there that wolves travel them as effectively and naturally as possible. Instinctive nature
possesses the prodigious ability to live all positive circumstances and all negative consequences, without
interrupting the relationship with self and others. The wolf faces the cycles of nature
and destiny with good will and ingenuity and with the patience necessary to remain united
with his own partner and live as best he can for as long as possible.
However, in order for human beings to live and deliver their loyalty in
such a wise and wise way, so protective and so sensitive, it is
necessary for them to deal with what they fear the most and there is no
way to avoid it. As we will see later, we must lay down
with a gift to death among the wisest. Love is rarely a meeting between
two lovers. For example, some tales from the circumcular regions describe love as
the one between two beings whose combined strength allows one or both of them to
establish communication with the spiritual world and participate in destiny as if it were a
dance with life and death. The story I' m going to tell is
a home story about love. The action takes place in the Northern Gelido.
To understand the story, it must be borne in mind that there, in
one of the most inhospitable environments and one of the hardest hunting cultures in the
world, love does not mean flirting or a search for the simple purpose of
pleasing the ego, but a visible bond formed by the psychic tendon of resistance.
A Union that endures in prosperity and austerity throughout the most complicated and simplest
days and nights, the Union of Two Beings sees itself as a magic andacop
as a relationship through which both individuals can know who is in charge, but
this kind of union raises certain demands In order to create this lasting love,
a third participant is invited. He' s the one I call the skeleton
woman. It could also be called doña death and as such it would be
another figure of life death life in one of his multiple disguises. Under this
form, Dona Death is not a disease, but a divinity. In a
relationship plays the role of the oracle who knows when it is time for cycles
to begin and end. One as such is the wildest aspect of the relationship,
the one most feared by men and sometimes even women, for when confidence
in transformation has been lost, the natural cycles of development and wear and tear
are also lost to create lasting love. Both lovers have to embrace the skeleton
woman and accept her presence in the relationship. Here in a primitive Inuit environment
and converted into an original literary tale from an oral poem of five verses that
facilitated me or Yokola, is the skeleton woman. Here are also the psychic
phases through which one must go in order to learn to embrace it. Let
' s look through the images that emerge from the smoke of this story.
The skeleton woman had done something her father did not approve of, although no
one remembered what she was, but her father had dragged her to the cliff
and thrown her into the sea. There the fish ate his flesh and ripped
out his eyes. As he lay beneath the surface of the sea, his
skeleton was spinning and more spinning in the middle of the currents. One day
a fisherman came to fish good. In fact, before many fishermen came to
this bay, but that fisherman had gone far away from the place where he
lived and did not know that the fishermen of the area tried not to approach
there, because they said that there were ghosts in the cove. The fisherman
' s hook sank into the water and was set on nothing less than the
bones of the skeleton woman' s torazn box. The fisherman thought I caught
a very fat one, one of the fattest. I was already mentally calculating
how many people could feed on that big fish, how long it would last
for them there, how long he could be free from the hard one.
Hunting task While struggling boldly with the enormous weight hanging from the hook, the
sea became a hectic foam that caused the cayac to swing and shudder, as
the one below was trying to unhook, but the more he struggled, the
more he became entangled with the line. Despite her resistance, she was inexorably
dragged upwards, towed by the bones of her own ribs. The hunter,
who had turned his back to collect the net, did not see his bald
head emerge from the waves. He did not see the tiny coral creatures shining
in the orbits of his skull, nor the crustaceans clinging to his old ivory
teeth. When the fisherman turned back with the net, the whole woman'
s body had bloomed to the surface and was hanging from the end of the
silt lit by one of her long front teeth. There was a scream from
the man as his heart fell to his knees. His eyes sank in terror
at the back of his head and his ears lit red. Hay screamed again,
beating her with the oar to unhook her from the bow and rowing as
a desperate course to the shore. Since she did not realize that the woman
was entangled in the line, she got a tremendous scare when she saw her
again, for it seemed that she had punctuated herself on the water and was
chasing him as much as she was exaggerating with the cayac. She did not
turn away from her back her breath spread over the surface of the water in
clouds of steam and her arms waved as if they wanted to grab him and
sink him into the depths. There the man cried out with a whining voice.
As he approached the shore, he jumped out of the cayac with the
fishing rod and ran, but the woman' s corpse, a skeleton as
white as coral, continued to jump behind his back still on the line.
The man ran over the rocks and she followed him. He ran over the
icy tundra and she followed him. He ran over the dried meat and smashed
it with his seal- skin boots. The woman followed him everywhere and had
even caught some iced fish as she dragged it after herself and was now beginning
to eat it, for it had been a long time without taking anything into
her mouth. In the end, the man arrived at his ice house,
entered the tunnel and advanced crawling inland, sobbing and gasping. He lay in
the darkness, as his heart beat in his chest like a gigantic drum.
At last I was safe, yes, safe, thanks to the gods,
thanks to the raven yes and the merciful Sedna. She was safe at last,
but when she lit her whale oil lamp, she saw it curled up
there in a corner on the snowy floor of her house, with a heel
on her shoulder, a knee inside the chest box and a foot on her
elbow. Later, the man couldn' t explain what happened. Maybe the
light from the lamp softened the woman' s factions. Maybe it was because
he was a lonely man. The fact is that he felt invaded by a
certain compassion and slowly stretched out his filthy hands. Speaking sweetly, as she
might have spoken to a mother to her son, she began to unhook her
from the thread in which she was entangled. Okay. Okay. First he
untangled his toes and then his ankles. He continued to work well into the
night, until in the end he covered the woman skeleton with skins to warm
her up and put her bones in order, just as they would have had
to be. From a human being he sought his flint on the hem of
his leather pants and used a few of his hairs to light a little more
fire. From time to time he looked at her as she greased the precious
wood of her fishing rod and rolled the gut line and she wrapped it in
the skins. He did not dare to say a single word, for he
feared that the hunter would take her out of there, throw her into the
rocks below, and break all her bones into pieces. The man felt sleepy,
slipped under the sleeping skins and immediately began to dream. Sometimes when humans
sleep, a tear escapes from their eyes. We don' t know what
kind of dream causes it, but we know it has to be a sad
or nostalgic dream, and that' s what happened to man. The skeleton
woman saw the sparkle of the tear under the glow of the fire and suddenly
became very thirsty. You pull or drag the sleeping man through a creak of
bones and put his mouth close to the tear. The lonely tear was like
a river and she drank, drank and drank until she managed to quench her
thirst for many years later, as she lay beside the man, she put
her hand inside the sleeping man and pulled out her heart. The one who
was beating as loud as a drum got on and started beating him on both
sides. Pom pom pom pom. While I was hitting him, did he
start singing? Meat? Meat? Meat? Meat? Meat? Meat?
And the more he sang, the more his body was filled with flesh.
She asked for her hair to come out and for good eyes and rolly hands.
He asked to sing the crotch slit and breasts long enough to wrap and
warm up and all the things a woman needs. And when he finished and
sang that the sleeping man' s clothes would disappear and slid to his side
on the bed, skin against skin, returned the big drum, the heart
to his body. And that' s how they both woke up, hugging
each other, entangled, each other, after spending the night together. But
now otherwise, in a good and enduring way, people who don' t
remember the reason for their bad luck. She says that the woman and the
fisherman left from then on the creatures she had known during her underwater life.
They were always in charge of providing them with food. People say it'
s true and that' s all you know. Death in the house of
love, the inability to confront the woman skeleton and untangle it is the origin
of the failure of many loving relationships. To love one must be not only
strong, but also wise. The strength comes from the spirit, the wisdom
comes from the experience with the woman skeleton, as we have seen in the
tale. If you want to be fed for life, you have to face
the nature of life, death, life and establish a relationship with it.
As soon as we achieve this purpose, we are no longer taking a swing
around in an attempt to fish for fantasies, for we understand that the true
relationship is created by the necessary deaths and surprising births. When we face the
woman skeleton, we understand that passion is not something that is to be sought,
but something that is generated through a few cycles and distributed through this medium.
The skeleton woman is the one who shows us that a shared life in
all increments and all decreases, in all endings and principles, creates a faithful
love unparalleled. The story is a very appropriate metaphor for the problem of modern
love, the fear of the nature of life death life and the aspect of
death in departure. In much of Western culture, the original character of the
nature of death has been enveloped in different dogmas and doctrines to separate it from
its other half, which is life. They have wrongly taught us to accept
a broken form of one of the most basic and profound aspects of wild nature.
We have been taught that death is always followed by more death, but
it is not. Death is always incubating new life, even though our existence
has been reduced to bones. Instead of being considered contrary, the archetypes of
death and life have to be seen as a whole, like the left and
right of a single idea. It is true that within a single love relationship.
There are many endings, but somewhere in the delicate strata of being that
is created when two people love each other, there is a heart and a
breath. When it empties on one side of the heart it fills the other.
When one breath runs out, it starts to another. If we believe
that the force of life death life has no space beyond death, it is
not surprising that some people fear making compromises, it terrifies them of the simple
possibility of enduring an end. They can' t stand the idea of moving
from the gallery to the interior rooms. They are afraid, for they sense
that in the breakfast room of the house of love is sitting the lady of
death, hitting the ground with her foot bending and folding again the gloves has
in front of her a list of work, to one side what is alive
and to the other what is dying. And he is firmly determined to carry
out his task. It is firmly committed to maintaining balance. The archetype of
the force of life death life has been very misinterpreted in many modern cultures.
In some I no longer understand that the lady of death represents an essential pattern
of creation. Thanks to their loving care, life is renewed in many popular
traditions. The female figures of death are the object of spectacular representations. He
takes a scythe and harvests those who least expect him, kisses his victims and
leaves the corpses behind him or suffocates people and then spends the night whining in
pain. But in other cultures, such as that of the East Indies and
the mesh, which have preserved the teachings about the wheel of life and death,
the lady of death envelops the dying, relieves their pain and comforts them
in curandering. They say he turns the child around in the belly and puts
it upside down so they can do it. They say he guides the hands
of the midwife, opens the paths of the mother' s milk in the
breasts, and comforts all who weep alone. Far from scorning her. Those
who know her in her entire cycle respect her generosity and her lessons. From
an archetí or point of view, the s s the nature of life.
Death life is a basic component of instinctive nature in myth and folklore is,
it is called the lady of death, quatlique, the bertta quan gin babayaga,
the lady in white, the belladona misericordiosa and forming a group of women,
the Greeks grae, the grey ladies, from him I advanced her in
his carriage made of night clouds, to the whining of the river bank,
from the dark angel that rubs human beings with the tip of his wing,
sinking them into an ecstasy, to the fire of the marshes that appears when
death is imminent. Tales are full of these vestiges, of the ancient personifications,
of the goddess, of creation two. Much of our knowledge of the
nature of the dead life is contaminated by our fear of death. Hence our
ability to move at the pace of the cycles of this nature is still so
scarce. These forces do nothing to us, they are not thieves who steal
from us the things we love the most. This nature is not a driver
who runs over what we most appreciate and is given to the fude. Not
the forces of life death life are part of our own nature. They are
part of an inner authority that knows the steps of dance, life and death.
It is made up of aspects of our personality that know when something can,
must and must be born and when it has to die. She'
s a very wise teacher, as long as we know how to learn her
rhythm. Rosario Castellanos, the Mexican mystic and poet, writes about giving herself
to the forces that govern life and death. Give me the death I'
m missing. Poets understand that everything is worthless without death. Without death there
are no lessons. Without death, there is no darkness over which the radiance
of the diamond can stand out. While the initiates do not fear the lady
of death, Our culture often encourages us to throw the woman skeleton from the
cliff, because not only is she a fearsome character, but it also takes
a lot of time to learn to know her. A soulless world fosters the
rapid and desperate search for the filament capable of burning perennially and from now on,
however, the miracle we are looking for requires time. Time to look
for him and time to bring him to life. The modern quest for the
continuous motion machine competes with the quest for the continuous love machine. It is
no wonder that people who pretend to love feel perplexed and harassed, as in
the tale of red slippers, and surrender to a crazy dance, unable to
stop their frantic evolutions, passing as a whirlwind ahead of the things they cherish
most in their inner forum. However, there is another way, a much
better way, that takes into account the weaknesses, fears and singularities of human
beings. But, as is often the case in the cycles of individuation,
almost all of us simply pass by stumbling above it the first phases of love,
the accidental finding of treasure. In all stories there is some material that
can be considered a reflection of illness or well- being, of one'
s own culture or of one' s own inner life. In the stories
there are also mythical themes that can be interpreted as representing the different phases of
conservation of the balance of the inner and outer worlds and as instructions to achieve
this. Although the woman skeleton can be considered the representation of the movements of
the interior of a single psyche, this tale seems more interesting to me if
it is interpreted as a series of seven tasks that teach each soul to love
deeply and satisfactorily another. These are the tasks of discovering another person as a
kind of spiritual treasure, although at first one does not realize what he has
found in almost all loving relationships comes after persecution and concealment, a period of
hope and fear for both components of the couple. Then comes the untangledness and
understanding of the aspects of life death, a life that contains the relationship and
the appearance of a feeling of compassion with regard to the task. The next
phase is that of relaxation, confidence and the ability to rest in the presence
of the other and with his satisfaction, after which a period of participation of
both in future dreams and past sorrows begins, which mark the beginning of the
healing of the old wounds of love. Then comes the use of the heart
to sing a song to the new life and, finally, the fusion of
body and soul. The first task, the discovery of the treasure, is
found in dozens of tales from all over the world in which the fishing of
a sea bottom creature is narrated. When that happens in a narrative, we
always know that very soon there will be a struggle in three. What lives
in the world above and what lives or has been repressed in the underground world.
In this tale, the fisherman fish much more than I expected. He
' s one of the fat ones. Think as you turn around to collect
the net, you do not realize that you are hoisting to the surface the
most terrifying treasure you can imagine, that you are hoisting to the surface something
far superior to your forces. He does not know that he will have to
come to an understanding with him and that he is about to test all his
powers and the worst is that he does not know. He doesn' t
know. This is the state of all lovers. At first they' re
as blind as bats. Humans who do not have much knowledge about it show
a certain tendency to approach the mor, just as the fisherman of the tale
approaches the house. I hope to catch a very fat one that feeds me
for a long time, fills me with emotion and makes my life easier and
of which I can boast in front of all the other hunters when I return
home is the natural behavior of the naïve hunter or starved. The very young,
the uninitiated, the hungry and the wounded have values that revolve around finding
and winning trophies. Young people still don' t really know what they'
re looking for. The hungry seek sustenance and the wounded seek comfort from their
former losses. But everyone will get the treasure when someone is in the company
of the great powers of the psyche, in this case of the woman,
of life, death life and is very naive. I' m sure I
' ll catch more than I expected. We often cherish the fantasy of receiving
the food of deep nature through a loving relationship, a job, or money,
and hope that the food will last a long time. We wish we
didn' t have to work anymore. There are times when we would even
like to be fed without just having to work. In fact, we know
very well that in this way we will not or not get anything worthwhile,
but we still want it. It' s easy to lie there dreaming simply
of perfect love. It is an anaesthetic from which we may never recover,
other than to ruthlessly appropriate something valuable that is, however, beyond our consciousness.
For the naive and wounded. The miracle of the psyche' s performance
is that even if you are discouraged, even if you are irreverent, you
do not want to do so, do not expect it. In fact do
not feel like it, whether you feel unworthy or unprepared, you will stumble
accidentally and in any case, with the treasure. Then it is the duty
of the soul not to overlook what has been found to recognize that the treasure
is indeed so and to think carefully about what to do. Next, the
figure of the fisherman shares a bit of the archetypal symbolism of that of the
hunter and both represent, among many other things, the psychological elements of human
beings who try to know and strive to feed the self through fusion with instinctive
nature in those who as in life. The hunter and the fisherman begin their
search through one of these three ways, in a sacred way, with trompiced
meanness in the tale of the women we take that the fisherman walks a bit
trompicons is not petty, but neither does it reveal a sacred attitude or intention.
Sometimes lovers start this way too. At the beginning of a relationship,
they' re just trying to catch a little excitement or some kind of antidepressant
of the kind Help me spend the night without realizing it They get into one
part of their own psyche and that of the other person in which the skeleton
woman inhabits. Even if your egos are just looking for a little fun,
psychic space is a sacred territory for the skeleton woman. If we sail through
these waters, we will fish safely. The fisherman believes that he is only
looking for a little food, but in fact he is bringing to the surface
all the elemental feminine nature, the forgotten nature of life death, life,
and this cannot be overlooked, as long as he begins a new life and
presents himself the queen of death. And when that happens, at least in
the first time, people pay stasis and fearsome attention to the initial theme,
that of the woman lying beneath the surface of the sea. The skeleton woman
looks like Setna three, a figure of life, death, life of Inuit
mythology. Setna is the great deformed goddess of creation that inhabits the underground world
inuit. Her father threw her overboard from her cayach, for unlike other obedient
daughters of the tribe she had escaped with a dog man like the father of
the fairy tale, the Manca Maiden. Sedna' s father amputated his hands.
Their fingers and limbs sank to the bottom of the sea, where they
became fish and seals and other forms of life that from then on fed the
Innuit What remained of Sedna' s body also sank to the bottom of the
sea. There it became bones and very long hair. In the Inuit rite,
the shamans of the earth swim down to her and bring food to appease
her angry dog and guardian consort. The shamans read comb the long hair,
sing to him and beg him to heal the soul or body of some person
from above, for she is the great andacot The maga is the great northern
gate of life and death, the skeleton woman who spent centuries underwater can also
be interpreted as the force of life, death, unused life and misused woman
in her vital and resurrected form. They govern the intuitive and emotional faculties that
complete the life cycles of births and the end of sentences and celebrations. It
' s the one that examines things, the one that you can say when
it' s time for a place, a thing, a group, or
a relationship to die. This gift of psychological perception awaits all those who make
it emerge into consciousness through the act of loving another person. A part of
all women and men refuse to know that in all loving relationships, death also
has to intervene. We pretend to be able to love without dying our illusions
about love. We pretend to be able to move forward without our vehement outbursts
of emotion ever having to die. But in love, from a psychic point
of view, everything, absolutely everything is broken. The ego would not want
it, but so it must be and every person endowed with a deep wild
nature is inclined to accept it. What dies, the illusion, the expectations,
the desire to have it all, to want only the beautiful, everything
dies, since love always leads to a descent into the nature of death.
It is understood why so much dominion over oneself and so much spiritual strength is
necessary to give in to this commitment. When one commits himself to love,
he also commits himself to the resurrection of the essence, the skeleton woman and
all her teachings. The fisherman of the tale is slow to understand the nature
of what he has fished. That' s what happens to everyone at first.
If one is inexperienced, he does not know that down there dwells the
nature of death. As soon as the guy finds out, what' s
in front of him. Your impulse is to try to reject it. We
become like the mythological fathers who throw their wild daughters into the sea overboard the
kayak. We know that sometimes relationships fail when they go from the stage of
anticipation to the phase of confrontation. With what' s really at the end
of the hook. It happens in the reality of a mother with her eighteen
- month- old son as well as between the parents and her teenage son,
among friends and among lovers of all life and those who have been together
for very little time. A relationship initiated with the best will hesitates, shakes
and sometimes wobbles when the phase of falling in love ends, Then, instead
of putting into practice a fantasy, the challenge of the relationship begins in earnest
and one has to take advantage of all his skill and prudence. The woman
skeleton that lives under water represents an inert form of a deep instinctive life that
is known from memory, the creation of life and the creation of death.
If lovers insist on leading a life of forced joy, perpetual pleasures and other
forms of nefarious intensity, if they insist on constants giving a blitz of sexual
thunders and lightnings or a torrent of pleasant things, if no conflict will throw
down the cliff the nature of life, death, life and it will return
to or into the sea. The exclusion of all cycles of life and death
from love relationship results in the nature of the skeleton woman being torn from her
psychic accommodation and drowned. Then the loving relationship adopts a forced expression of not
being sad, let' s try to have all we can, that strives
to keep at all costs. The soul of the relationship disappears and sinks into
useless and meaningless water. It is always thrown down the cliff to the woman
skeleton when one or both components of the couple do not support it or do
not understand it, throwing it at us by the cliff when we do not
learn well the use of transformational cycles, when things have to die and be
replaced by others. If lovers cannot endure these processes of life, death life,
neither can they love each other. Beyond hormonal aspirations, throwing this mysterious
nature down the cliff always results in the lover and the spiritual strength of the
lover becoming skeletons deprived of true love and food. Since women tend to monitor
very closely, biological and emotional cycles, life cycles and death are at the
centre of their interest. And since there cannot be much life if there is
not a decline of what was before, lovers who strive to keep everything to
the highest level of psychic splendor will live an increasingly sociated relationship. The desire
to force love to live only in its most positive form is the cause of
the ultimate death of love. The fisherman' s challenge is to face the
lady of death, her embrace and her cycles of life and death. Unlike
other tales in which an underwater creature is captured who is then released and the
fisherman receives in pledge of gratitude from the fulfillment of a wish to the lady
of death, she cannot be released and she does not kindly accede to any
desire. It emerges to the surface, whether one wants it or not,
for without it there can be no real knowledge of life. Without this knowledge
there can be no loyalty or true love or affection. Love costs dearly,
costs the price of courage, costs to take a bother, as we will
see later. Again and again I observe in lovers, whatever their sex is,
a phenomenon of this kind. Two people start a dance to see if
they' re interested in loving each other. Suddenly they accidentally catch the woman
skeleton something to the relationship, begin to decrease and slip into entropy. Often
the painful pleasure of sexual arousal or one of the components of the couple is
reduced. He sees the fragile and wounded hidden part of the other or sees
the other as something that is not exactly a trophy. And that' s
when the old woman emerges to the surface, with her baldness and her yellow
teeth, it seems frightening and yet it is the privileged moment when there is
an authentic affair, an opportunity to show courage and know love. To love
means to stay next to someone, means to leave a fantasy world and enter
a world in which lasting love is possible face to face, bone to bone,
a love made of affection, to love means to stay when all cells
scream made to run. When lovers are able to endure the nature of life
death life and understand it as a continuum, as a night between two days
and as the force capable of creating a love for all life, they can
face the presence of the skeleton woman in their relationship. Then they become stronger
together and both feel called to a deeper understanding of the two worlds in which
they live, the material world and the spirit world. Throughout my 20 years
of practice, men and women have been lying on my couch saying with excited
terror. I' ve met someone I didn' t want, I was
busy with my own business and I didn' t even look and suddenly I
know someone with a capital letter what I do now. As they feed the
new relationship, they start to chicken out, back down, and worry about
losing this person' s love. They are not afraid because they are beginning
to glimpse a skull bald beneath the waves of their passion. Oh, and
now, what do I tell you, it' s a magical moment,
but I can' t calm you down. I tell you, we'
ll see something wonderful now, but they lack faith. I tell them to
resist and that they do, though with great effort, without me realizing from
the point of view of my analysis, the boat of their love relationship is
moving away faster and faster. He reaches the shore and in a moment his
smiles start to run like a soul that the devil carries and I, in
my role as an analyst, run by his side and try to tell them
something while at our back he follows us to a storm. Who we already
know, most people, when faced for the first time with the woman skeleton,
experience the urge to run away to the maximum run. It' s
part of the process. Doing so is human, but not during time and
not forever. Persecution and hiding. The nature of death has the strange habit
of appearing in loving relationships. Just the moment we think we' ve found
a suitable lover, when we think we' ve caught a very big fish.
That' s when it blooms to the surface and nature of life,
death life and scares everyone when lovers make all sorts of balances. If you
wonder why love will not work for any of the components of the couple,
then one hides in the burrow in an effort to become invisible, invisible to
the lover, not invisible to the woman skeleton. That' s when the
races begin and the search for hiding places. But, as we shall see,
there is nowhere to hide. The rational psyche goes fishing in the hope
of achieving a good piece and not only gets it, but also gets a
scare so big that it can barely resist it. Lovers have the feeling that
something is after them. Sometimes they think it' s the other one who
' s after them, but it' s actually the skeleton woman. At
first, when we learn to truly love, we misinterpret many things. We
believe that it is the other who pursues us, when in reality, what
traps the woman skeleton in such a way that she cannot escape us is our
intention to relate in a special way to another human being, whenever love is
born emerges to the surface, the force of life, death life always.
Thus, the fisherman and the skeleton woman are entangled with each other. As
the skeleton woman advances to trumpets behind the terrified fisherman begins her primitive participation in
life, she enters appetite and eats fish. Dry later, when it comes
to life, quench its thirst with the fisherman' s tear. This strange
phenomenon occurs in all loving relationships. The more the lover runs, the faster
he speeds her up. When one of the components of the couple tries to
escape the relationship, it is paradoxically filled with life and the more life is
created, the more the fisherman is frightened and the more he runs, the
more life is created. The phenomenon is one of the most essential tragicomedias of
life. One person who was in this situation dreamed that he found a lover
whose soft body opened like a closet inside the cavity of his body there were
shimmering and throbbing embryos, daggers on an anaqueles dripping with blood and bags full
of blood. From the first greenery of spring, the subject was perplexed,
as it was a dream about the nature of life, death life. These
fleeting visions of the woman' s skeleton interior induce budding lovers to take their
fishing gear and run at full speed in an attempt to bring as much distance
as possible between his person and the woman skeleton. This is immense enigmatic and
dazzlingly numinous From a psychic point of view, it extends from horizon to horizon
and from heaven to hell. It is so huge that it costs a lot
to embrace it, and yet it is no wonder that people run to put
into their arms what one fears is capable of strengthening and healing. The phase
of persecution is the hiding place. It is the period during which lovers try
to rationalize their fear of the cycles of life death, life of love.
They tell each other things will be better for me. Or not. I
want to give up blank space, or I don' t want to change
my life or I don' t want to face my wounds or someone else
' s or I' m not ready yet. Or I don' t
want to be transformed without first knowing in every detail that I' ll seem
to feel later. It is a period in which thoughts are all scrambled,
in which one desperately seeks refuge and the heart beats him with strength, not
because he loves and is loved, but out of pure fear. Look who
was caught by the lady of death. What a horror to meet face to
face with the power of life death, double life. There are some who
make the mistake of thinking that they run away from the relationship with their lover,
but they don' t. They do not escape from love or the
pressures of the account. They try to leave behind the mysterious force of life
death life. Psychology diagnoses this situation as fear of intimacy, fear of commitment,
but that is nothing but symptoms. The deepest issue is disbelief and mistrust.
Those who are always fleeing fear in reality to live according to the cycles
of wild and integral nature. Thus, the lady of death pursues man through
the water and crosses the border that separates the unconscious from the consciousness of the
mind the conscious psyche, realizes what it has caught and desperately tries to leave
it behind. We do it constantly in our lives. When something scary appears,
we do not pay attention and keep pulling it up in the belief that
it is a great trophy and is indeed a treasure, but not of the
kind we had imagined. It is a treasure that, unfortunately, we have
been taught to fear and then we try to run away from it or to
beautify it so that it looks what it is not but does not work.
In the end, we all have to kiss the old witch in love takes
place the same process. We just want beauty, but we end up dealing
with the bad. We tried to push the skeleton woman away, but she
' s moving on. We run and he follows us. She' s
the great teacher we' ve always claimed to want, but she' s
not screaming when we see her show up We want another pity. This is
the teacher we all have. There is a saying that, when the student
is prepared, the teacher appears means that the inner teacher emerges to the surface.
When the soul is not prepared the ego, the teacher is presented whenever
the soul calls it less evil, for the ego is never fully prepared.
If the teacher' s appearance depended exclusively on the ego, we would be
left without a teacher all our lives. In that we are lucky, for
the soul continues to convey its desires without taking into account the perennially changing opinions
of our egos. When things in loving relationships get entangled and take on an
alarming touch, people fear that the end will be near. But not like
this. Since this is an archetypal issue and since the skeleton woman fulfills the
function of destiny, the hero has to miss out on it horizon. The
lady of death must appear immediately afterwards. If the training lover has to crawl
into his little hut, barking and trusting to save himself, and the skeleton
woman has to follow him into his safe haven. Then he has to untangle
it, et cetera, et cetera. For modern lovers, the idea of
occupying a space is like the fisherman' s iglood, where he believes he
is safe Sometimes this fear of facing the nature of death is distorted in an
excuse by which they try to preserve only the pleasant facets of the relationship without
having to confront the skeleton woman. But that never works and makes lovers who
do not occupy a space experience enormous anxiety, as they would like to meet
the woman skeleton. They have prepared themselves consciously, strengthened themselves, are trying
to keep their fears in check and now, just as they are about to
unravel the mystery, when one of them is ready to play him drum of
the heart and sing a song to life in common, the other component of
the couple cries out to him not yet, not yet or never. There
is a great difference between the need for solitude and renewal and the desire to
or occupy a space to avoid the necessary relationship with the skeleton woman. But
this relationship understood as the acceptance of the nature of life, death, life
and exchange with it, is the next step in strengthening one' s ability
to love. Those who enter into a relationship with her will acquire a lasting
capacity to love and those who will not acquire it. There' s no
leaf turn. Four all I' m not ready for. All I need
are times that are understandable, but only for a short period of time.
The truth is that people are never fully prepared and there is never a proper
time, just as is the case with all descents. To the unconscious comes
a moment when one simply trusts in luck, covers his nose and throws himself
into the abyss. If it were not, it would not have been necessary
to create the words heroine, hero or bravery. The task of knowing the
nature of life death, life has to be carried out. If the skeleton
woman is delayed, she dips in the water, but she will come out
again and again and continue to chase again and again. This is your mission
and our mission is to learn. If you want to love, you have
no choice. Embracing the skeleton woman is a task without a challenging task.
There can be no transformation, but a task. Real satisfaction cannot be experienced.
Loving pleasure requires very little effort. To truly love one must be a
hero capable of overcoming one' s fear. It is true that many people
reach the phase of escape and hiding. Unfortunately, some of them reach it
over and over again. The entrance of the burrow is full of traces of
those who have rushed into cats, but those who want to truly love emulate
the fisherman. They strive to kindle the fire and to face the naughtiness of
life death, life contemplates face to face what they fear and, paradoxically,
respond with conviction and astonishment to the untangled skeleton. The story of the skeleton
woman contains a test of the suitor. In suitors' tests, lovers have
to test their legitimate intentions and abilities, and they usually do so by demonstrating
that they have balls or ovaries to face a sort of powerful and fearsome numinosity
whom we call here the nature of life death life. While others might call
it an aspect of self or the spirit of love, and others might call
it God or grace, the spirit of energy, or any other qualification,
the fisherman demonstrates his legitimate intentions, his abilities, and his growing commitment to
the skeleton woman. Untwisting it from the cedal, he gazes at it currucada
and bent at impossible angles and sees in it a flash of something, although
he does not know from what he had fled from it, ja de n
ne and sobbing. He now intends to touch it with his own existence.
He is moved by the heart when we understand the loneliness of the nature of
life, death, life within the psyche, she who without any guilt on
her part is constantly rejected, may also be moved by her torment. If
we want to love as great as our fear and suspicion are, we will
be willing to untangle the bones of the nature of death and see what happens.
We' ll be willing to play what' s not pretty. Five
in another person and in ourselves. Behind this challenge hides a shrewd testel me
and is present even more clearly in the tales in which the beautiful presents itself
as ugly to test the character of someone in the tale. Ruby diamonds and
pearls. A good but denigrated stepdaughter draws water from the well for a wealthy
stranger and is rewarded with the gift of throwing it out of her mouth.
Ruby diamonds and pearls, every time the stepmother speaks, she orders her lazy
daughters to go to the same well to wait for the rich stranger to pass.
But this time there' s a drab outsider. When she asks for
a water locker, the daughters proudly refuse to give it to her. The
stranger rewards her with the punishment of throwing in her mouth. Culebras toads and
lizards forever and ever in the justice of fairy tales, just as in the
deep psyche the kindness with what seems inferior, is rewarded with a good and
the refusal to show good to someone who lacks beauty is weaned and punished.
The same is true of great emotional states, such as love. When we
stretch and bow to touch what is not beautiful, we receive a reward.
If we despise what is not beautiful, we isolate ourselves from real life and
stay out of cold death. Some find it easier to think of sublime and
beautiful things and touch everything that positively transcends us than to touch to render help
and assistance to what is not so positive. It is easier, as the
story illustrates, to turn away from the unbeautiful and to feel falsely honored.
This is the loving problem of dealing with the skeleton woman. What is the
beauty, the novel is our secret desire to be loved. The non-
beautiful is the disuse and misuse of love, our abandonment of loyalty and appreciation
is unpleasant. Our sense of soul isolation is ugly. Our psychological warts,
our flaws, our misunderstandings and our childhood fantasies are not beautiful and, moreover,
our cultures consider not beautiful the nature of life death, life that illuminates,
destroys and shines again. To untangle the woman is to understand this conceptual
error and correct it. Untangle the woman skeleton is to understand that love does
not mean perennially lit candles and constant increments. Untangle the woman skeleton means feeling
comforted rather than frightened in the darkness of regeneration, meaning a balm for old
wounds. It means changing our way of seeing and being in order to reflect
health and no longer the deficiencies of the soul. To love, we have
to touch the bony basic and not too pleasant woman, unraveling the sense of
this nature for our own benefit, putting her bones back in place and allowing
her to live again. It' s not enough to pull the unconscious up
to the surface and it' s not even enough to accidentally drag the skeleton
woman into our house. The advance of love stops when the subject, fears
it or despises it for a long time, the untangle the n mystery of
the skeleton woman begins to break the spell, that is, fear, to
consume and die forever. From the archetypal point of view, in order to
untangle something, we must descend and follow a labyrinth until we can reach the
underground world or the place where questions are revealed to us in a completely different
way. One must follow something that at first seems like a complex process,
but that is actually a profound pattern of renewal in fairy tales. Solving the
riddle, undoing a knot, untying and untying means beginning to understand something that
will not be unknown until then. Understand its applications and uses become a kind
of magician in a shrewd soul. When the fisherman untangles the woman, skeleton
begins to acquire a direct knowledge of the joints of life and death. The
skeleton is an excellent representative image of the nature of life, death life.
As a psychic image, the skeleton is formed by hundreds of small and large
sticks and knots of strange shapes in continuous and harmonious relationship with each other.
When one bone turns, all the others turn, even if it is imperceptible.
The cycles of life death life are exactly the same. When life moves,
the bones of death move in solidarity. When death moves, the bones
of life also begin to spin. In addition, when a little bone dislocates
or splinters, spurs come out or subluxates. The integrity of the whole body
suffers from it. When the nature of life, death life in one'
s own person or in a relationship is suppressed, the same happens. Life
itself advances by renqueando recovers, takes and protects the movement. When damage occurs
in these structures and cycles, there is always an interruption of the alivid and
then love is not possible. We stayed under the surface of the water and
became mere bones carried by the stream forward and backward. Untangle this nature means
learning its cushionings, habits and movements. It means becoming familiar with the cycles
of life and death, learning them from memory, checking that they all act
together and form one organism, just as the skeleton is one organism. Fear
is not a valid pretext for not carrying out the task. We' re
all scared when we live. There is fear among the innuit The raven is
a con man in his underdeveloped facet. She' s a creature full of
appetites. He likes only pleasure and tries to avoid all the uncertainties and fears
that they bring with them. It is very suspicious and also we and voracious.
He is frightened if something does not seem satisfactory to him at first sight
and rushes over it when it seems appetizing to him. He likes the shiny
sea- eared shells, the many silver, the incessant, he eats the
gossip and sleeps hot on the smoke hole of the siglus. The aspirant lover
can be like the raven who only wants the safe as the raven. The
ego fears that passion will end and tries by all means to avoid the end
of food, the bonfire of the day and pleasure. The raven, like
the ego, is cunning, but always to his own detriment, for when
he forgets his soul, he loses all his power. The ego fears that
if we recognize the presence of the nature of life, death life in our
existence, we will never again be happy. We have always been absolutely happy.
No. But the underdeveloped ego is as simple as a child. Not
socialized and not overly carefree. It' s more like a child who'
s constantly watching to take away the biggest slice, the softest bed, the
most handsome lover. Three things distinguish the living of the soul from living exclusively
from the ego, and are the ability to perceive and learn new ways of
doing things, the tenacity to walk a rugged path and the patience necessary to
learn to love deeply and for a long time. But the ego has a
tendency and inclination to avoid learning. Patience is not your thing. Lasting relationships
are not the raven' s strong point. Therefore, we do not love
another person from the ever- changing ego, but from the wild soul.
It takes savage patience, as the poet ary says in Witch six to untangle
the bones, learn the meaning of the lady of death and possess enough tenacity
to remain with her. It would be a mistake to think that it takes
a muscular hero to get such a thing. It' s not like that.
It is necessary to have a heart willing to die and be born again
and again and to be born again and again. The fact of untangled woman
skeleton reveals that this is old and older than defined time. She is the
lady of death, the one who measures energy in comparison with distance, the
one who weighs time, in comparison with the livid, the one who weighs
the spirit, in comparison with survival meditates. About it, he studies it,
considers it and then proceeds to infuse one or two sparks or a sudden
flare of wild fire or to reduce its strength a little, to cover it
with ash or to put it out altogether. She knows what to do,
she knows when the time has come in this regard. Therefore, a lover
who was once a bit inexperienced love acquires much more skill by observing the woman
skeleton and classifying her bones. As soon as a person begins to understand the
patterns of life, death life, he can foresee the cycles of the relationship
knowing that a decrease will correspond to an increase and an abundance a wear and
tear. A person who has untangled the woman skeleton knows what patience is and
knows how to expect is not frightened or frightened by scarcity, does not feel
overwhelmed by the fulfillment of her desires, her needs to reach, to have
things right away, they become the most refined art of looking for all facets
of the relationship and observing how the cycles of the relationship act. He is
not afraid to come into contact with the beauty of ferocity, with the beauty
of the unknown and with the beauty of the novello. And thanks to the
learning and knowledge of all these things, it becomes the fifth essence of the
wild lover. How a man learns these things as any person learns them.
Let us enter into direct dialogue with the nature of life death life, paying
attention to this inner voice, which is not the ego. Let us learn
by asking nature life, death, direct questions about love and how to love,
and pay attention to its answers. Thanks to all these things, we
will learn not to be fooled by the grumpy voice in the back of our
mind that tells us this is a Chinese tale. I am inventing everything,
we will learn to pay attention to what we hear, to all the things
that bring us closer and closer, to the acute consciousness, to love,
to loyalty and to the clear vision of the soul. It is good to
acquire the thoughtful and everyday habit of untangled over and over again the nature of
life, death life. The fisherman sings a single stanza song to facilitate the
task of untanglement. It is a song intended to help the consciousness, to
help untangle the nature of the skeleton woman. We don' t know what
he sings, we can only guess it while we untangle this nature. It
would be good if we sang something like this. What do I have to
give more death today to generate more life. I know he must die,
but I resist allowing him to die. What has to die in me,
for what I can love, what not beauty, I am afraid of what
serves me today he power of the novello, what is it that today has
to die, what has to live, what life I fear to shine and
if not, now, when. If we sing the song of consciousness,
until we feel the burning of truth, we will throw a flame of fire
into the darkness of the psyche and see what we are doing. What we
' re really doing, not what we want to believe we' re doing.
Thus, we untangle our feelings if we begin to understand the reason why
love and life have to be lived through the bones to confront the woman skeleton.
We don' t have to take on the role of the solar hero.
We don' t have to fight a battle or endanger our life in
the desert, it' s enough for us to seek. Untangle it with
the ability to know the nature of death life. Dida saves lovers who overcome
the urge to run and the desire to feel safe. The ancients who sought
knowledge of life and death called it the pearl of great value, the inimitable
treasure. The fact of holding the threads of these mysteries and untangled them confers
a deep knowledge of destiny and time, a time for all things and everything
in due time, rolling with the rough and slipping with the soft. There
is no knowledge that is more protective, nourishing and strengthening of love than this.
That is what awaits the lover who sits in the love of the light
with the skeleton woman who contemplates her and lets herself be moved by her.
It is what awaits all those who touch their beauty and gently untangle their nature
from life, death, life, the dream of trust. At this stage
of the relationship, the lover returns to a State of innocence, a State
in which he is still impressed by the emotional elements, a State in which
he feels full of desires, hopes and dreams. Innocence has nothing to do
with naivety. There is an ancient saying in the wild and remote regions from
which I come. Ignorance is not knowing anything and being attracted to the good.
Innocence is knowing everything and still feeling attracted to the good. Let'
s see how far we' ve come now. The hunter fisherman has taken
to the surface, the nature of life death, life without wanting it has
been persecuted by her, but he has also managed to look her in the
face be compared to her entangled State and has touched her And all that is
leading her to the full participation of her nature, a transformation and love,
Although the metaphor of sleep may induce to think of a psychic unconsciousness, Here
symbolizes creation and renewal. Dream is the symbol of rebirth. In the myths
of creation, souls fall asleep while transformation takes place, for in the dream
we are recreated and renewed. The dream that weaves the entangled sleeve of the
little ones, the sleep relief of the hard fatigue, balm of the wounded
minds, second dish of nature, first food of the feast of life.
Shakespeare Macbeth, two eleven, thirty- six. If we could contemplate the
most cruel, perverse and heartless person of this inundation during sleep and at the
moment of awakening, we would see in it for a moment an uncontaminated childish
spirit, a purest innocent. In the dream we return to the state of
sweetness, turn us upside down, ride us from top to bottom and leave
us as new. This state of wise innocence is attained when we strip ourselves
of cynicism and protective eagerness and enter again into the state of amazement proper to
most human beings, very young and many elderly, consists in looking through the
eyes of a keen and loving spirit and not those of a beaten dog,
a persecuted creature, a mouth above a stomach, an angry and wounded human
being. Innocence is a state that is renewed during sleep. Unfortunately, many
put it aside along with the quilt. Every morning when they get up.
It would be much better to take a vigilant innocence and squeeze us into it
to warm us up. Although the initial return to this state may require scraps
of differing views and decades of insensitivity bulwarks, carefully constructed. As soon as
one returns and u s o ns more has to be lever again or dig
to recover it. Returning to a state of vigilant innocence is not as great
an effort as carrying a lot of bricks from one place to another, for
it is enough to remain motionless long enough for the spirit not to be found.
They say that everything we' re looking for is also looking for us
and that if we stay still, it will find us. It' s
something that' s been waiting a long time for us as soon as I
get there, don' t move and rest and you' ll see what
happens next. Thus, one must approach the nature of death, not with
cunning and artery, but with the trust of the spirit. The innocent word
is often used to qualify a person without criteria, a simpleton, but the
roots of the word refer to someone free of injury and damage. In English,
the word innocent is applied to a person who seeks to have not s
s s s s s to anyone, but who can also heal any damage
or injury that others have caused to her. The innocent is the qualifier that
often applies to healers who heal the wounds and the damage suffered by others.
Being an innocent means seeing clearly what is happening and being able to fix it.
These are the powerful ideas contained in innocence, which is considered not only
the attitude of avoiding harm to others and to one' s own person,
but also the ability to heal and restore one' s own person and that
of others. Let' s think about it, what a great benefit for
all the cycles of love through this metaphor of innocent sleep, the fisherman relies
enough on the nature of life death, life to rest and revitalize himself in
his presence. It enters a transition that will lead to a much deeper understanding
and a higher stage of maturity. When lovers enter this state, they surrender
themselves to the forces that carry within them those of trust, faith and the
profound power of innocence. In this spiritual dream, the lover trusts that the
work of his soul will be accomplished in him and that everything will be as
it has to be. The lover then sleeps the dream of the wise,
not of the suspicious. There is a real suspicion when the danger is near
and an unjustified suspicion that occurs as a result of previous injuries. The latter
causes many men and women to behave with distrust and disinterest, even when they
would like to be cordial and affectionate. People who fear to fall into a
trap or to be fooled or who over and over proclaim loudly their desire to
be free are those who let the gold slip directly between their fingers. Many
times I' ve heard a man say that he has a great woman who
' s in love with him and he' s in love with her,
but he can' t let go enough to see what he really feels about
her. The decisive moment for such a person occurs when he dares to love,
despite his doubts, despite his restlessness, despite the wounds he has already
suffered before, despite his fear of the unknown, Sometimes there are no words
able to help one to be brave. Sometimes you just have to throw yourself.
There must be in a man' s life some time when he is
carried away by love, in which he is more afraid, he will be
trapped in the dry and cracked river bed of the psyche than to enter an
exuberant but unexplored territory In this phase of innocence. The fisherman is again a
young soul, for in his dream there are no scars or memories of what
he was yesterday or before. In the dream it does not try to occupy
a place or a position. In the dream it is renewed in the male
psyche. There is a creature, an unharmed man who believes in good,
who has no doubts about life, who is not only wise, but what.
Besides, he' s not afraid to die. Some would call it
a warrior, but it' s more than that. It is a spiritual
self, a young spirit who, despite the torments, wounds and exiles,
continues to love, because it is something that is in itself healing and healing.
Many women can testify to seeing this creature lurking in a man without him
realizing the ability of this young spirit to use its healing power in its own
yes, which is truly amazing. His trust is not based on the premise
that his lover will not harm him. His confidence is that any wound he
may suffer will be healed, that the new happens to the old life,
the confidence that all these things have a deeper meaning, that seemingly unpleasant events
also have their meaning and that all things of our own life, the dents,
the dented, the melodious and the elevated, can be used as vital
energy. It must also be said that sometimes, when a man becomes freer
and comes closer to the woman skeleton, his lover becomes more suspicious and has
to make an effort to untangle and observe him dream that returns innocence and to
learn to trust in the nature of life death life, when both have already
begun properly. Get the power to soften any wound and survive any pain.
Sometimes one person fears falling asleep in the presence of another, returning to psychic
innocence, or the other person taking advantage of it. They are beings who
project all sorts of motives into others and do not trust themselves. However,
he is not one of his lovers who distrust. It is that they have
not yet been made to the idea of the nature of life death life,
It is that they still have to learn to trust the nature of death,
just as it happens in sleep, the nature of life death life in its
wildest form, is as simple as a gentle. Exhalation, end and,
inhalation beginning. The only confidence that is required is to know that when an
end is produced, there will be another beginning to be able to do so.
If we are lucky, we need to get carried away and slide into
confidence by giving in to their pull. The most difficult path is to throw
ourselves into a confident state of mind, trying to eliminate all conditions, all
silos and at least. However, there is usually no point in waiting for
us to feel strong enough to trust, for this day will never come.
Therefore, one must risk thinking that everything that culture has taught us to believe
about the nature of life death life is false and that our instincts have reason
to prosper love. The companion has to trust that anything that happens will be
transformative. Man or woman must enter into this state of sleep that restores to
people a wise innocence that creates and recreates, just as it should be the
deepest spirals of life' s experience. Death life. The delivery of the
tear. While the fisherman sleeps a tear, it looks at him from the
angle of the eye, the thirsty skeleton woman sees him and crawls clumsily towards
him to drink from the cup of his eye. What would he be dreaming?
Fisherman, we' re wondering why a tear has come out of his
eye. Tears enclose a creative power in myths. Tears produce an immense creation
and a sincere gathering in herbarium folklore. Tears are used as a binding substance
to secure the elements, unite the ideas and bring the souls together. When
tears are shed in their tales, they drive thieves away or cause rivers to
overflow. When they are sprayed, they evoke spirits, when they spill on
the body, they heal lacerations and return sight when touched. It gives rise
to conception. When someone has gone this far into their relationship with the nature
of life, death, life, the tear that is shed. It is
the tear of passion and compassion for one' s own person and that of
the other. It is the tear that costs most to shed, especially for
certain men and for certain kinds of women hardened by life. This tear of
passion and compassion is usually shed after him accidental discovery, of the treasure,
after the horrible persecution, after the untangled woman skeleton. For the combination of
all these things is the cause of exhaustion, of the disassembly of defenses,
of confrontation with oneself, of being naked to the bones, of the desire
not only for knowledge, but also for relief. All this results in the
soul examining what it really desires and crying for the loss and love of knowledge
and relief. In the same way that the skeleton woman was taken to the
surface, Now this tear, this feeling of the man is also taken to
the surface. It' s a lesson in love with both self and someone
else stripped. Now of all the spikes, hooks, and shudders of the
daytime world, the man lets the skeleton woman stand beside him, drink and
feed on his deepest feeling. In its new form, it can feed the
thirsty. The spectrum of the skeleton woman has been evoked by the crying of
the man. The ideas and faculties of a place far away from the psychic
world come together thanks to the warmth of its tear. The history of the
symbol of water as a creator and as a path is very long and varied.
Spring comes with a shower of tears. The entrance to the underground world
occurs with a cascade of tears, a tear heard by someone with a heart
is interpreted as an invitation to approach. That' s what the fisherman'
s crying does and then she' s coming. Without the fisherman' s
tear, she would still be a bunch of bones and without her own tear,
he could never wake up to love. The tear of the dreamer occurs
when a budding lover lets himself be carried away by feeling and sells his own
wounds, when he dares to contemplate the self- destruction that he himself has
caused by losing confidence in the goodness of the self, when he feels separated
from the nourishing and revitalizing cycle of the nature of life. Death, life
then weeps, because it perceives its loneliness, its deep longing for that place,
psychic of that wisdom, savage. Thus man heals, thus increasing his
understanding. He himself prepares medicine, he himself takes on the task of feeding
the other person blotted out with his tears, he begins to create love for
another person. It' s not enough. Not being an obstacle to another
person' s life is not enough. It is not enough to be understanding,
available and so forth. The goal is to become an understanding in the
things of life and death, in the affairs of one' s life and
the general picture. And the only way to become an understood man is to
learn from the bones of the skeleton woman. She' s waiting for the
sign of the deep feeling, the lonely tear that says I confess I'
m hurt. This confession nourishes the nature of life. Death, life creates
man' s bond and deep wisdom. We have all made the mistake of
thinking that another person can cure, excite or fill us. It takes a
long time to find out that this is not the case, especially because we
project the wound outside of us, instead of curing it inside us. Probably,
what a woman wants most from a man is to dissolve her projections and
face her own wound. When a man faces his wound, the tear naturally
appears to his eye and his outward and inner loyalties become clearer and stronger,
then he becomes his own healer. He' s no longer a loner to
him, me deep, no longer resorts to the woman to be his painkiller.
There is a story that describes it very well. In Greek mythology.
There was a man named Philoctetes. They say he inherited Heracles' magic bow
and arrow. Philoctetes was wounded on one foot during the battle, but the
wound did not heal. He fired such a nauseating smell and his cries of
pain were so dreadful that his companions abandoned him on the island of Lemnos and
left him there alone to die. Philoctetes avoided dying from using the bow of
Heracles to collect small pieces of hunting, but the wound was bitter and the
stench was so unpleasant that any sailor who approached the island had to deviate quickly.
However, a group of men decided to face the stench of the Philoctet
wound to steal his magic bow and arrow. The men cast him to lots
and the task reached the youngest seven. The elders encouraged him to hurry and
travel under cover of the night. Thus, the youngest made himself to sea,
but against the background of the smell of the sea, the wind brought
him another smell so horrible that the young man had to cover his face with
a canvas soaked with sea water in order to breathe nothing. However, he
could protect his ears from the heartbreaking shouts of Philoctetes. The moon was covered
by a cloud very well thought of him as he moored his boat and sneaked
close to the tormented Philoctetes. At the time when he was extending his hand
toward the longing bow and arrow, the moon suddenly shed its light on the
maiming face of the dying old man and something on the young East He did
not know that he suddenly induced him to lie down, to weep and then
felt invaded by deep compassion. Instead of stealing the bow and arrow, the
young man cleaned the wound of Philoctetes, sold it to him and remained by
his side, feeding him, washing him, lighting him up, and taking
care of him until he could take him to Troy, where he could be
cured by the half- divine doctor asclepius. And that' s how the
story ends. The tear of compassion is shed in response to the contemplation of
the smelly wound. The smelly wound has different configurations and origins in each person.
For some it means spending their lives climbing without rest and with great effort
the mountain to discover too late that they are climbing the mountain that they should
not. For others, these are unresolved and unhealed issues of child abuse.
For others it is a painful loss in life or love. A young man
suffered the loss of his first love, had no support from anyone and did
not know how to heal himself for years he was shattered by life no matter
how much he insisted on claiming that he was not hurt. Another was a
rookie player from a professional football team. One day there was an accidental permanent
injury to the leg and his lifelong sleep faded overnight. The smelling wound was
not only tragedy or injury, but the fact that for twenty years it only
applied to the wound the medicine of bitterness, the abuse of drugs and the
squabbling. When men suffer injuries of this kind they smell from afar. No
woman, no love, no care can heal such a wound. Only the
compassion you feel of yourself and the care you give to your wound. When
man sheds the tear it means that he has come to his pain and realizes
it. When he touches it, he realizes that he has lived a defensive
existence because of the wound. He realizes the things that have been lost in
life for this reason and how paralyzed his love for life, for his own
person and for others is. In those of fairies tears change people remind them
that it is the most important thing and save their souls. Only the hardness
of the heart prevents weeping and union. There is a saying that I translated
from him long ago and that is rather a prayer in which prayerful Lee asks
God to break his heart. Destroy my heart in such a way that there
is free space for infinite love. The inner feeling of tenderness that induces the
fisherman to untangle the skeleton woman also allows him to experience other long forgotten longings
and resurrect compassion for himself. Since he is in a state of innocence in
which he thinks everything is possible, he is not afraid to express the desires
of his soul. He does not want to, because he believes that his
need will be satisfied. It is a great relief for him to believe that
his soul will be filled when the fisherman manifests what he truly feels, favors
his reunion with the nature of life, death life. The fisherman' s
tear attracts the woman skeleton, provokes thirst and a desire to join him more
closely. As in fairy tales, tears attract things to us, correct things
and provide the missing part or piece in the African tale. The golden waterfalls,
a magician gives shelter to a fugitive slave, shedding so many tears that
in the end creates a waterfall of water under which the slave takes refuge.
As an ocan, the bone rattle, the souls of the dead healers are
evoked, spraying the earth with tears as a child. Blas tears possess the
power of attraction and the tear contains within them powerful images that guide us.
Tears not only represent feeling, but are also lenses through which we acquire an
alternative vision. And another point of view in the story. The fisherman lets
his heart break, but not let it break with weakness, but let it
break. It' s not the love of boob, breast milk that he
wants. It is not the desire for profit, power, fame or sexuality.
It is a love that floods him, a love that he has always
carried within, but whose existence he had never recognized before. When you understand
this relationship, the soul of man settles more deeply and more clearly. The
tear sprouts, she drinks it. Now the interior of the man will develop
and be reborn something different, something that the man will be able to give
to the woman a heart as immense as the ocean. The later phases of
love. The drum and the song of the heart say that the skin or
body of the drum determines who will be called to exist. Some drums are
believed to be roving and transporting the toucher and those who listen to him.
Also called passengers in some traditions to very different and varied places. Other types
of drums have other forms of power. They say drums made of human bones
are evoked by the dead. Tamors made from skins of certain animals evoke certain
animal spirits. Especially beautiful drums evoke beauty. Drums adorned with bells evoke children
' s spirits and atmospheric weather. The sound drums evoke spirits capable of hearing
that tone. The strident tamors evoke the spirits able to hear that tone.
And so on, a drum made of heart will evoke the spirits related to
the human heart. The heart symbolizes the essence, the heart is one of
the few essential organs that humans and animals give to possess in order to live.
If a kidney is stretched, the person lives. If you amputate more
legs and you stretch your billiard gallbladder, lung, arm, and glass,
the person lives not very well, perhaps, but lives. If he is
deprived of certain brain functions, the person continues to live, but if the
heart is extracted, the person dies instantly. The psychological and physiological center is
the heart in the trans- Indians that are the precepts that the gods give
to human beings. The heart is the anaata chacra, the nerve center,
which includes feeling for another human being, for the person himself, for the
earth and for God. The heart is the one that allows us to love
as it loves a child fully and unreservedly, without the slightest vestige of sarcasm,
contempt or paternalism. When the skeleton woman uses the fisherman' s heart,
she uses the central motor of the whole psyche, the only thing that
now really matters, the only thing capable of creating a pure and innocent feeling.
They say it' s the mind that thinks and believes, but the
story says something else. It implies that it is the heart that thinks and
evokes molecules and atoms, feelings, longings and anything else that is necessary for
them to go to a place and believe the matter with which the woman skeleton
is created. The story holds this promise. Let the skeleton woman be more
tangible in your life and she will widen your life in return, when you
free her from her entangled and misunderstood state and realize that she is not only
a teacher, but also a lover, she becomes your ally and companion.
Surrendering the prene of one' s heart for the new creation and the new
life and for the forces of life death life is to descend into the realm
of feelings. It can be difficult for us, especially if we have been
hurt by disappointment or pain, but it is something we must do at all
costs to give full life to the woman skeleton, to approach the one I
have always been close to us. When a man surrenders all his heart,
it becomes an amazing force, it becomes an inspiring role that was once exclusively
reserved for women. When the skeleton woman sleeps with him, the man becomes
fertile and receives female faculties in a male environment. It carries within it the
seeds of the new life and the necessary deaths. It inspires new works within
it, but also in those around it. For many years, I have
observed it in other people and I have experienced it myself. You feel a
very deep emotion when you create something of value thanks to the trust of your
lover and the sincere appreciation that is manifested by your work, your project or
your theme. This is an amazing phenomenon that is not necessarily limited to a
lover. It can occur through anyone who gives you deep heart. Therefore,
man' s bond with the nature of life death, life will finally inspire
him with open ideas and arguments and vital situations and scores, musicals, colors
and images. Without fail, the nature of life death life is related to
the archetype of the wild woman and has at her disposal everything that always existed
and will always exist. When the skeleton woman creates, she covers herself with
flesh singing and then the person whose heart she uses realizes what happens, is
filled with creation and it bursts and overflows. The story also illustrates a power
that originates in the psyche and is represented by the symbols of the drum and
singing in myths, the chants heal the is wounded and are used to attract
the pieces of house. People are drawn by chanting their names, it relieves
pain and a magical breath restores the body. The dead are evoked or resurrected
by singing. It is said that the whole creation was accompanied by a sound
or a word uttered aloud by a sound or a whispered word uttered with the
breath in the myths. Chanting is considered to come from a mysterious source that
imparts wisdom to all creation, all animals and human beings, trees, plants,
and any being who hears it in all. It is said that everything
you have wise has singing. The hymn of creation produces a psychic change.
Tradition is widespread. There are songs that create love in Iceland and between the
Wichita Indians and the Micmac. In Ireland, magical power is evoked by magical
singing. In an Icelandic tale, a person falls on an iced rock and
cuts off an extremity, but it is regenerated by means of a song.
In almost every culture, the gods give songs to men and tell them that
their employment will evoke the presence of the divinities. At any moment he will
bring you the things you need and transform or banish those you do not want.
In this way, the giving of a song is an act of compassion
that allows humans to evoke gods and great forces in human circles. Chanting is
a special mode of language that allows to achieve things that the spoken voice could
not since time immemorial. Chanting, like the drum, has been used to
create a non- ordinary consciousness, a state of hypnosis, or a state
of prayer. The consciousness of all human beings and many animals can be altered
by sound. Certain sounds, such as dripping from a tap or insisting on
a car, can cause anxiety and even irritation. Other sounds, such as
the sound of the ocean or the howl of the wind among the trees,
can fill us with satisfying feelings. The deaf sound, like that of a
few steps, causes a snake to experience a negative tension, but a soft
song can make it dance. The word pneuma breath shares its origin with the
word psyche. Both are considered designations of the soul. Therefore, when we
speak of a song in a story or myth, we know what is being
evoked to the gods to instill their wisdom and power in the matter in question.
We know then that forces are acting in the spiritual world to create soul.
Therefore, the singing of the song and the use of the heart as
a drum are mystical acts that awaken layers of the psyche not too used or
seen. The breath or pneuma that spills over us opens certain doors and awakens
certain faculties that otherwise would not be accessible. We cannot say that effects will
generate the songs or the sound of the drums in the different people, because
both things produce in the human beings who participate in experience openings of the most
strange and unusual. However, being able to be sure that whatever happens will
be numinous and eye- catching the dance of the body and soul with their
bodies. Women live very close to the nature of life death life. When
women are in their instinctive right mind, the ideas and impulses that induce them
to love, create, believe and desire are born, live their time,
fade and die and are born again. You could say that women put this
concept into practice in a conscious or unconscious way in every lunar cycle of their
lives. For some, the moon indicating the cycles is in the sky.
For others she is the skeleton woman who lives in her psyche, from her
own flesh and blood and from the constant cycles that fill and empty the red
vase from her belly. A woman understands physically, emotionally and spiritually that the
Zenit fade and expire and that what is left is reborn with unexpected forms and
by means inspired to be reduced again to nothing and conceived again in all its
glory. As you can see, the skeleton woman' s cycles run throughout
the woman through her and beneath her. Couldn' t be any other way.
Sometimes men who still hear of the nature of life death life fear such
a woman, for they sense that she is a natural ally of the skeleton
woman. However, this was not always the case. The symbol of death
as a spiritual transformer. It is a vestige of a time when the lady
of death was welcomed as a close relative, such as a sister, a
brother, a father, or a mistress of n or a lover. In
the feminine imagery, the woman of death or the maiden of death has always
been considered the bearer of destiny, the maker, the harvest maiden, the
mother, the river passer and the recreation woman, all following a cycle.
Sometimes, whoever flees from the nature of life death life insists on considering love
as something exclusively positive. But love in its fullness is a whole series of
deaths and rebirths. We abandon one phase, one aspect of love and enter
another. Passion dies and returns. The pain moves away and appears again to
love means to embrace at the same time to resist many endings and many beginnings
all in the same relationship. The process is complicated by the fact that much
of our perceived culture has difficulty in tolerating the transformative. However, there are
other better attitudes to embrace the nature of life. Death life all over the
world, even if it is known by different names. Many see this nature
as a dance with death, the death it has as a dance partner to
life. Up there, in the land of the Great Lakes Dunes, where
I was raised, people would say that they still used in their language the
expressions proper to the sacred scriptures. Mrs Aschaford, an old friend from my
silver- haired childhood who had lost her only son in World War II.
She kept clinging to this archaic prose. One summer night I dared to ask
her if she still missed her son, and she kindly explained to me her
meaning of life and death, using appropriate terms for child understanding. The account
she cryptically called the dead ray eight said in part the following. A woman
receives in her house still strange traveler called death. But the old lady is
not afraid. Apparently, he knows that death gives life and not just administers
death. She is sure that death is the cause of all tears and laughter.
She welcomes him to death and tells him she loved him. When all
my crops burst and when all my fields languished, when my children were born
and when my children died, he tells her that he knows him and that
she is his friend. You have been the cause of my great weeping and
my dances. Death. Therefore, you can now cry out for the beginning
of dance. I know the steps to be able to love. We danced
with death. There will be overflows and droughts, live births without dead births
and reborn births of something new. To love is to learn the steps.
To love is to dance the dance, the energy, the feeling, the
intimacy, the loneliness, the desire, the tedium, everything goes up and
down in relatively consecutive cycles. The desire for intimacy and separation grows and diminishes
the nature of life. Death life not only teaches us to dance all those
things, but also teaches us that the solution of discomfort is always the opposite.
Therefore, the remedy of boredom is a new activity. Intimacy with another
is the remedy of loneliness. Isolation is the remedy when one feels overwhelmed,
when one does not know this dance, The person shows tendency, during the
different periods of stagnation, to express the need for new personal activities, spending
too much money, running dangers making reckless choices, taking a new lover.
Is the behavior of fools or fools? It is the proper behavior of those
who do not know At first, we all think that we can overcome the
death aspect of the nature of life death life, but in reality it is
not. It follows us to the inside of our homes, to our conscience.
If we do not do so by other means, we acquire knowledge of
this darker nature when we recognize that the world is not a just place,
that occasions are lost, that opportunities are unexpectedly presented to us, that the
cycles of life death life prevail whether we want to or not. Today,
however, if we live as we breathe, inspire and expire, we cannot
be mistaken. In this story there are two transformations, that of the hunter
and that of the woman. Skeleton in modern terms. The transformation of the
hunter takes place as follows. First it' s the unconscious hunter hello it
' s me I' m fishing and I' m going to my thing.
Then he' s the scared hunter who runs away like you say.
You want to talk to my go forgive me. I have to go.
Now reconsider your position. He begins to untangle his feelings and discovers a means
of relating to the skeleton woman. My soul is attracted to you who you
really are how you are made. Then he falls asleep. I' ll
trust you. I dare show my innocence. It sheds a tear of deep
feeling and it feeds the woman skeleton. I' ve been waiting for you
for a long time His heart is willing to create it entirely. Here you
go, take my heart and come back to life. In my life and
in this way the fisherman hunter is loved in return is the typical transformation of
the person who learns to love. Really. The transformations of the skeleton woman
follow a slightly different path. First, like nature, life death, life
is used to having your relationships with human beings end immediately after the initial fishing.
No wonder she pours so many blessings on those who take the trouble to
accompany her, as she is accustomed to people cutting the hook and running back
to the shore. First she is rejected and exiled, then she is accidentally
caught by someone who is afraid of her From an inert state, she begins
to return to life. He eats a drink from him who has fished it
is transformed thanks to the strength of his fisherman' s heart and the strength
that he reveals by daring, looking at it and looking at himself face to
face, Then he must be a skeleton and becomes a living being. He
is loved by him and he is loved by her, bestows powers on her,
just as jealousy bestows on her. She is the great wheel of nature
and he is the human being. They now live in mutual harmony. We
see in the story what death demands of love, it demands its tear,
its feeling and its heart. It demands that it be loved by the nature
of life. Death life asks lovers to face it immediately, not to shrink
or avoid that their commitment means more than being together, that their love is
based on the combination of their learning ability and their strength to face this nature
that they love and dance with it, the skeleton woman sings in order to
acquire a healthy body. This body that the skeleton woman evokes with her song
is valid in every way. It is not a set of parts and pieces
of woman' s flesh idolized by some in certain cultures, but an entire
female body capable of nursing children, making love, dancing and singing and bleeding
without dying. This recovery of meat through chanting is another popular theme very common
in African tales. Papues, Jews, Hispanics and Inuit the bones are transformed
into a Mexican person, cuatlic extracted, mature human beings from the bones of
the dead of the underground world. A shamantlin hit takes away the woman he
loves in stories all over the world by singing her clothes. The fruit of
the songs is magic and all over the world the different nymphs and gigant fairies
have breasts so long that they can be thrown on their shoulders. In Scandinavia,
among the Celts and in the circumpolar region, stories speak of women capable
of creating their bodies at will. We see in the story that the giving
of the body is one of the last phases of love. That' s
what it has to be. It is good to master the first phases of
the Union with the nature of life death life and leave for later direct experiences
body to body. I want to warn women against the danger of a lover
who wants to move from accidental fishing to body delivery. It is appropriate to
go through all phases. If so, the last phase will come by its
numbered steps and the bodily union will occur in due time. When the Union
begins with the phase of the body, the process of confronting the nature of
life death life may occur later, but it demands more value. It is
a harder task, for in order to carry out the work of the foundation,
the ego of pleasure must be turned away from its carnal interest. The
doggy of Manabe' s tale shows us how difficult it is to remember which
path one finds when pleasure stimulates nerves. Therefore, to make love is to
melt the breath and the flesh, the spirit and the matter. One fits
the other. In this tale we see the union of the mortal with the
immortal, just as it should be in an authentic lasting loving relationship. There
is an immortal soul- to- soul relationship that we find difficult to describe
or perhaps decide on, but that we experience in the depths of our being
In a wonderful tale of India, a mortal being touches the drum so that
the fairies can dance in the presence of the goddess Indra. In exchange for
this service, the man is given a fairy for a wife. Something very
similar occurs in the love relationship. The man who establishes a collaborative relationship with
the female psychic realm, which for him is mysterious, receives a reward.
In return. At the end of the story, the fisherman identifies breath with
breath and skin with skin, with the nature of life, death life.
The meaning of this relationship is different in every man and the way of experiencing
this relationship is also different. All we know is that in order to love,
we have to kiss the witch and more than that, we have to
make love to her. However, the story also teaches us how to establish
a satisfactory relationship of collaboration with those who are most afraid of us. She
is just what a man has to give his heart to. When the man
merges with the woman, a skeleton symbol of the psychological and the spiritual,
he joins intimately with her and, as a result of this union, is
intimately united with her lover. To find this eminent advisor of life and love.
Just stop running, untangle some things, deal with the wound and with
your own craving for compassion and put your whole heart into it. Therefore,
when in the end the skeleton woman is covered with flesh the whole process of
creation is cegnifique. But instead of starting as a newborn creature, just as
Westerners are taught to think about life and death, it begins as a bunch
of old bones, from which it is covered with flesh and comes to life.
She is the one who teaches man to live a new existence. She
teaches him that the way of the heart is the way of creation. It
shows him that creation consists of a series of births and deaths. It teaches
him that protective attitudes lead to nothing, that selfishness creates nothing, that with
suspicions and screams nothing is achieved. The only thing capable of creating is the
fact of letting go and giving up the heart, the great drum, the
great instrument of wild nature. Thus the loving relationship has to work, each
member of the couple transforming the other the strength and power of one is untangled
and shared. He gives her the drum of the heart, She gives him
the knowledge of the rhythms and the most complicated emotions to imagine can who knows
they will hunt together. We only know that they will receive food until the
end of their days. Part six, The finding of the herd, the
bliss of belonging, the ugly duckling sometimes to the wild woman. Life fails
him from the beginning. Many women are the daughters of parents who studied them
in childhood, wondering how it was possible that this little intruder had managed to
enter the family. Other parents used to hang out with their eyes blank,
without paying the slightest attention to their daughter, or they either mistreated her or
looked at her coldly. Women who have gone through this experience need to be
encouraged. They have avenged themselves without guilt on their part, a burden to
which their parents have had to raise and a thorn stuck permanently in their sides,
and it is even quite possible that today they will be able to cause
them a deep fear when they knock on their door. It is not altogether
evil as just punishment inflicted by the innocent. Less time needs to be spent
thinking about what they did not give any more time to look for the people
who belong to us. It is quite possible that a person does not belong
at all to his family viena or logic. It is quite possible that,
from a genetic point of view, he belongs to his family but by temperament
he joins another group of people. There is also the possibility that someone apparently
belongs to his family, but his soul runs away from a leap that runs
down and is glottonously happy by wiping out spiritual cakes elsewhere. Hans Kreschin Andersen
one wrote dozens of literary tales about orphans. He was a great advocate of
lost and abandoned children and a strong supporter of the search for those who sunk
like us. His version of the ugly duckling was first published in one thousand
eight hundred forty- five. The ancient theme of the story is that of
the unusual and the helpless. A perfect half story of the wild woman.
In the last two centuries, the ugly duckling has been one of the few
tales that have encouraged several successive generations of strange beings to resist until they find
their own. It is what I would call a psychological and spiritual tale at
its root, that is, a story that contains a truth so fundamental to
human development that, without the assimilation of this fact, the subsequent progress of
a person would be very precarious and it could not prosper at all from a
psychological point of view, without first solving this question. Here, therefore,
is the ugly duck that I wrote as a literary tale, based on the
extravagant original version told in the magic language by the fallible meseloc the rustic storytellers
of my family two. The ugly duckling was approaching the harvest season. The
old ones were making some green dolls with corn sheaves. The old mending the
blankets. The girls embroidered their white dresses with blood red flowers. The boys
were singing while the golden hay was being thrown over. The women weaved rough
shirts for the next winter. The men helped to collect, pluck, cut
and dig the fruits that the fields had offered. The wind was starting to
tear the leaves out of the trees. Every day a little bit more and
down there, on the riverside, a mom paw was filling her leg eggs.
Everything was going as planned, until in the end, one by one,
the eggs began to tremble and tremble. The shells broke and the new
ducklings staggered, but there was still an egg, a very large egg motionless
as the stone. There passed an old leg and the mother paw showed her
new offspring that they are beautiful. She asked proudly, but the old leg
noticed the egg that had not opened and tried to dissuade her friend from continuing
to imposter it. It' s a turkey egg He' s got the
old leg. It' s not a proper egg for a turkey You can
' t get it in the water. You know. She knew it because
she was intending to sit once, but the paw thought that, since she
had already spent so much time impounding, she wouldn' t mind doing it
a little more. That' s not what worries me the most. He
said you know that the rascal' s father of these ducklings hasn' t
come to see me once. In the end, the huge egg began to
shake and vibrate. The shell broke and an immense and untangled creature appeared.
Her skin was run out of tortuous red and blue veins. The legs were
light purple and their eyes were clear pink. The mother patted her head and
stretched her neck to examine it and had no choice but to recognize it was
decidedly ugly. Maybe that' s what a turkey thought worried about. However,
when the ugly duck entered the water with the other chicks in the nest,
the mother paw saw that she could swim perfectly. Yeah, he'
s one of mine. In spite of this, this look so rare that
it has, although well looked at, seems almost handsome to me. So
he introduced him to the other creatures on the farm. But before he could
tell, another duck crossed the courtyard like an exhalation and pecked the ugly duck
directly in the neck stop screamed the mom paw, but the bully replied.
He' s so ugly and so weird he needs to be intimidated a little.
The queen of ducks, with her red ribbon on her leg, commented
another nest, as if we did not have enough mouths to feed and that
one there so big and so ugly has to be a mistake. It'
s not a mistake. Said mom paw will be very strong. What happens
is that he' s spent too much time in the egg and he'
s still a little deformed. But it' ll all work out You'
ll see. He added smoothing the feathers of the ugly duckling and licking the
feather swirls that fell on his forehead. Without bitterness, the others did their
best to harass the ugly duckling in a thousand ways. They would fly over
him, bite him, peck him, whistle him and yell at him.
As time passed, the torment was getting worse and worse. The duckling was
hiding, trying to dodge them, zigzaging from right to left, but he
couldn' t escape. He was the most miserable creature that ever existed in
this world. At first, his mother defended him, but then even she
got tired and cried out exasperated. I wish you' d get out of
here. Then the ugly duckling ran away with almost all the feathers in turmoil
and an extremely pitiful appearance. He ran nonstop until he reached a marsh.
There he stretched himself to the edge of the water with his neck stretched drinking
water. From time to time two geese watched him from the reeds. Hey
you Feucho told him in a mocking tone you want to come with us to
the next county. There' s a lot of single geese to choose from.
Suddenly shots were heard, the geese fell with a deaf rumor and the
water of the marsh was stained red with its blood. The ugly duckling submerged
as the shots rang around him, the barking of the dogs were heard and
the air filled with smoke. In the end, the marsh was silent and
the duckling ran and flew as far as he could. At nightfall he reached
a poor hut. The door hung from a thread and there were more cracks
than walls. There lived an old and drab woman with her bare cat and
her viscose hen. The cat earned his living by hunting mice and the chicken
earned it by laying eggs. The old lady was glad to have found a
duck Maybe she' ll lay eggs. He thought, and if he doesn
' t put them on, we can kill him and eat him. The
duck stayed there, where he was constantly tormented by the cat and the hen,
who asked him what it' s worth if you can' t lay
eggs and you can' t hunt.“ What I like most is to
be below,” the duckling said, throwing a sigh under the vast blue
sky or under the cold blue water. The cat didn' t understand what
it meant to stay underwater and criticized the duckling for his stupid dreams. The
hen also did not understand what it meant to wet her feathers and also mocked
the duckling. In the end, the duckling was convinced that he could not
enjoy peace there and went down to see if there was anything better there.
He came to a pond and as he swam he noticed that the water was
getting colder and colder. A flock of creatures flew over his head were the
most beautiful he' d ever seen. From the top. They shouted at
him and hearing his screams caused his heart to burst with joy and to be
broken with sorrow. At the same time he answered them with a cry he
had never uttered before in his life. He had seen more beautiful creatures and
had never felt more helpless. He went around and around in the water to
behold them, until they flew away and lost sight. Then he went down
to the bottom of the lake and snuggled there trembling. He was desperate,
for he was not right to understand the burning love he had for those great
white birds. A cold wind blew up for several days and the snow fell
on the frost. The old ones broke the ice from the dairy companies and
the old ones spun until late at night. The mothers nursed three creatures at
once in the light of the candles and men searched for the sheep under the
white skies. Midnight. The young people sank to the waist in the snow
to go milking and the girls believed to see the handsome young faces in the
flames of the fire of the chimney, as they prepared the food down there
in the pond the duckling had to swim in increasingly fast circles to keep its
place on the ice. One morning, the duckling found itself frozen in the
ice and that' s when he realized that two real anads were going to
die and flew down and slipped on the ice. Once there they studied the
duckling careful that you' re ugly they grasned him. It' s a
shame. There' s nothing you can do for those who are like you
and flew away. Luckily, he passed a farmer and freed the duckling.
Breaking the ice with his cane, he took the duckling in his arms,
put it under his jacket and went home with him. In the farmer'
s house, the children extended their hands towards the duckling, but he was
afraid. He flew towards the beams and all the dust there accumulated fell on
the butter. From there he plunged directly into the jar of milk and when
it came out all wet and stunned he fell into the barrel of flour.
The farmer' s wife chased him with the broom While the children were laughing,
the duckling went out through the catter and once on the outside lay half
dead on the snow. From there he went on with great effort until he
reached another pond and another house. Another pond and another house, and spent
all winter like this, alternating between life and death. So came the gentle
breath of spring. The old ones shook the feather beds and the old ones
kept their underpants. Long new children were born in the middle of the night,
as parents walked through the courtyard under the starry sky by day. The
girls adorned their hair with daffodils and the boys looked at the girls' ankles
and in a nearby pond the water began to warm up and the ugly duckling
floating in it spread its wings. How great and strong were his wings lifted
him up high above the earth. From the air he saw the orchards covered
by their white robes to the farmers plowing and all sorts of creatures, impounding,
advancing to trumpets, buzzing and swimming. He also saw in the pond
three swans the same beautiful creatures that he had seen the autumn before, those
that had stolen his heart and felt the desire to meet with them and if
they pretend to appreciate me and when he approached me, they flew away with
laughter. He thought of the duckling, but he came down planning and stood
in the pond, while his heart hammered hard at his chest. As soon
as the swans saw him, they swam close to him. There is no
doubt that I am about to achieve my purpose. He thought of the duckling,
but if they have to kill me, I prefer that these beautiful creatures
do it, if not the hunters, the women of the farmers or the
long winters. And he bowed his head to wait for the blows. But
oh prodigy, in the mirror of the water he saw a swan reflected in
all its splendor white plumage, like snow, black eyes, like cendrinas and
everything else. At first, the ugly duckling was not recognized, for its
appearance was the same as those precious creatures he had admired so much from afar,
and it turned out to be one of them. His egg had accidentally
rolled into the nest of a family of ducks. It was a swan,
a splendid swan and for the first time his class approached him and fondled him
gently and lovingly with the tips of his wings. His feathers were excited with
their beaks and they repeatedly swam around him in greeting. And the children who
came to throw breadcrumbs at the swans exclaimed there is a new one and as
they usually do, the children everywhere ran to announce it to everyone and the
old ones went down to the pond and I know they released their long silver
braids and the waiters picked up in the bowl of their hands the green water
of the lake and threw it to the young girls, who blushed like petals.
The men stopped milking simply to suck up breaths of air. The women
abandoned their patches to laugh with their companions and the old ones told stories about
the length of the wars and the brevity of life and one by one because
of life, passion and the passing of time, They all walked away dancing
the young men and the young girls walked away dancing. The old men,
husbands and wives also walked away dancing. The children and the swans walked away
dancing and left us alone. With spring and down there, next to the
river bank, another mom Pata began to dust the eggs of her nest.
The exile problem is very old. Many fairy tales and myths focus on the
subject of the outlaw. In such accounts, the main figure is tortured by
events that often go beyond her because of a painful neglect in the sleeping beauty.
The thirteenth fairy is forgotten and is not invited to the baptism, which
results in the child being the object of a curse that demanded of everyone in
one way or another. Sometimes exile occurs out of sheer evil, as when
the stepmother sends the stepdaughter into the darkness of the forest she balks the sap.
At other times exile occurs as a result of a naive error. The
Greek efest took his mother' s side It was in a discussion of it
with her husband Zeus. Zeus angered and threw out the demonstration of Mount Olympus,
banishing him and causing a limp. Sometimes exile is the result of a
covenant that is not understood, as in the story of a man who agrees
to wander as one for a certain number of years in order to win a
little gold and later discovers that he has given his soul to the devil in
disguise. The issue of ugly duckling is universal. All the tales of exile
contain the same essential meaning, but each one is adorned with different fringes and
ringorrangos that reflect the cultural background of the tale and the poetry of each particular
storyteller. The essential meanings that interest us here are the following. The duckling
of the tale is a symbol of wild nature which, when circumstances force it
to pass nutritional hardships, instinctively strives to move forward. Whatever happens, wild
nature instinctively resists and grasps with strength, sometimes with style and others with clumsiness
and less good than it does, for for the wild woman, perseverance is
one of her greatest qualities. Another important aspect of the story is that,
when the particular soul feeling of an individual, which is simultaneously an instinctive and
spiritual identity, is surrounded by psychic recognition and acceptance, the person perceives life
and power more strongly than ever before. The discovery of the psychic family itself
gives the person vitality and a sense of belonging. The exile of the singular
son in the tale, the different creatures of the village contemplate the ugly duckling
and, in one way or another, consider it unacceptable. It' s
not really ugly, but it doesn' t look like the others. It
' s so different, it looks like a black bean between a kilo of
peas. At first, the mom- pa tries to defend the duckling that
she thinks is hers, but in the end she feels emotionally divided and stops
worrying about that strange bud. His brothers and other creatures in the community peck
at him, peck at him, and torment him. They want to force
him to leave, but the ugly duckling dies of sorrow when he is rejected
by his own, which is terrible, for he has done nothing to deserve
this treatment, unless it is the fact that he is different and behaves in
a different way. In fact, without having reached even half of its development,
the duckling suffers from a strong psychological complex. Girls who have a haunted
instinctive nature often experienced considerable suffering in the early stages of their lives. Since
his tenderest childhood. They feel captive and domesticated and tell them that they are
stubborn and misbehave their wild nature. They reveal themselves very soon. They are
very curious and cunning girls and reveal eccentricities that, properly developed, form the
basis of their creativity throughout the rest of their lives. Considering that creative life
is the food and water of the soul, this basic development is extremely important.
As a general rule, the early exile begins without guilt on the part
of the person concerned and is intensified by the misunderstanding, cruelty, ignorance or
deliberate evil of others. In such a case, the basic self of the
psyche suffers an early wound. When this happens, a girl begins to believe
that the negative images that her family and culture offer of her are not only
totally true, but also totally free of prejudice, opinions and personal preferences.
The girl begins to believe that she is weak, ugly and unacceptable, and
she will continue to believe so, no matter how hard she tries to change
the situation. A girl is banished for exactly the same reasons we see in
the ugly duckling. In many cultures, when a girl is born she is
expected to be or become a certain type of person, behave in a certain
conventional way, have a number of values that, although not identical to those
of her family, but at least are based on them and, in any
case, do not cause any shocks. These expectations are very well defined when
one or both parents experience the desire of an angelic daughter, that is,
of a submissively perfect daughter. In the fantasies of some parents, the daughter
they have should be perfect and only reflect their criteria and values. Unfortunately,
if the girl comes out wild, she will have to undergo repeated attempts by
her parents to undergo a psychic surgery. To him his eagerness to recreate it.
There, to modify what the soul asks the girl, however much her
soul asks her to look at the surrounding culture, she will ask her to
become blind and even if her soul wants to tell her the truth. She
will be forced to remain silent. But neither the girl' s soul nor
the psyche can adapt to such demands the insistence that she behave properly, whatever
the definition she may give of it. The authority may force the girl to
flee or hide underground or wander for a long time in search of a place
where she can find food and peace. When culture carefully defines what constitutes success
or desirable perfection in something, appearance, stature, strength, form, purchasing
power, economy, manhood, femininity, good children, good conduct, religious
beliefs. In the psyche of all members of this culture, there is an
introduction of the corresponding mandates, so that people can conform to these criteria.
Thus, the subject of wild exiled women is often twofold internal, personal,
external and cultural. Here we will analyze the subject of internal exile, because
when the subject acquires the necessary strength, not a perfect force, but a
moderate and ideal force to be the same and find the place that corresponds to
him, it can masterfully influence the outside community and the cultural consciousness. What
is a moderate force. It is the one that is possessed when the inner
mother who cares for the person does not know a hundred percent what to do.
Then it is enough that you know it at seventy- five percent.
Seventy- five percent is an acceptable percentage. Remember that we say that a
plant is flowered whether it is in half or three quarters or in the fullness
of its flowering cycle. Mother' s classes. Although the mother of the
story can be interpreted as a symbol of the outside mother, most of the
people who are now adults have received from their royal mother chosen from the inner
mother. It is a man aspect of the psyche, which acts and responds
in a way that is identical to the childish experience of the woman with her
own mother. Moreover, the inner mother is made not only of the experience
of the personal mother, but also of that of other maternal figures of our
life and of the cultural images that were held of the good mother and the
bad mother in the time of our childhood. In almost all adults If there
was in other times any difficulty with the mother, but now there is no
more. There is still in his psyche a double of his mother who speaks,
acts and responds in the same way as his real mother in early childhood.
Although a woman' s culture has evolved towards more conscious reasoning regarding the
role of mothers, the inner mother will continue to have the same values and
ideas about the aspect and way of acting of a mother as those prevailing in
the culture of her childhood. Three. In deep psychology, this whole maze
is called the mother' s complex. It is one of the essential aspects
of a woman' s psyche and it is important to recognize her condition,
strengthen certain aspects, straighten others out and start again if necessary. The mother
- in- law of the story has several qualities that we will analyze.
One by one represents simultaneously the ambivalent mother, the collapsed mother and the uncompromised
mother. By examining these maternal structures, we can begin to establish whether our
complex of the inner mother firmly defends our unique personal qualities or yes, on
the contrary, it has long needed an adjustment of the ambivalent mother in our
story. Mom' s instincts force her to move away and isolate herself.
She feels attacked by having a different child, feels emotionally divided and, as
a result, collapses and stops worrying about the strange child. Although at first
he tries to stand firm the other age of the duckling endangers his safety within
the Community and then hides his head and dives. You have never seen a
mother forced to make such a decision, but in her entirety, at least
in part, the mother bows to the wishes of the village rather than taking
sides for her son. Today, many mothers continue to act in accordance with
the old fears of women who have preceded them over the centuries. Being excluded
from the community amounts to being ignored and looked at with suspicion at best and
being persecuted and destroyed in it worse, a woman in such an environment often
tries to mold her daughter in such a way that she behaves properly in the
outside world, waiting with them to save her daughter and save herself from the
attack. In this way, the mother and daughter are divided into the ugly
duckling. The mother paw is psychically divided and this leads to her being attracted
in different directions. That is precisely what ambivalence is all about. Any mother
who has ever been attacked will identify with her. An attraction is your desire
to be accepted by your village. Another is his survival instinct. The third
is her need to react to the fear that she and her daughter will be
punished, persecuted or killed by the villagers. This fear is a normal response
to an abnormal threat of psychic or physical violence. The fourth attraction is the
instinctive love of the mother for her daughter. And her desire to protect this
daughter. In pontifical cultures, women are often debated between the desire to be
accepted by the ruling class, their village and the love for their child,
whether it is a symbolic child or a creative child or a biological child.
The story is very old. Many women have died psychically and spiritually in their
desire to protect an unaccepted child, which can be their art, their lover,
their political ideas, their children or their spiritual life. In extreme cases,
women have been hanged, burned at the stake and killed for defying the
precepts of the village and protecting the unsanctioned child. The mother of a child
who is different from the r has to possess the sisyphic resistance, the terrifying
aspect of the cyclops and the hard skin of Calibán four in order to go
against the current of a narrow- minded culture. The most destructive cultural conditions
in which a woman can do and live are those in which she insists on
the need to obey without consulting with her own soul, those that lack comprehensive
rituals of forgiveness, those that force a woman to choose between her soul and
society, those in which economic conveniences or caste systems prevent compassion for others,
in which the body is considered something to be purified or a sanctuary that is
governed by decrees, in which the new, the unusual or the different does
not give rise to the least pleasure, in which curiosity and creativity are punished
and denominated instead of being rewarded, or in which they are only rewarded if
the subject is not a woman, those in which painful acts are committed against
the body, acts that are called sacred, or those in which the woman
is unjustly punished for her five good, as Alles Meller says, and in
which the soul is not considered to be a full entity. It is possible
that the woman who has in her psyche, this ambivalent mother, silk too
easily and afraid to take a stand, demand respect, exercise her right to
do things, learn them and live them in her own way, whether these
issues stem from an interior structure or from outside culture. So that maternal function
can withstand such pressures. Women have to possess certain aggressive qualities that in many
cultures are considered masculine. Unfortunately, for several generations, the mother, who
wanted to gain the appreciation of others for her own person and children, needed
the qualities that were expressly forbidden to her. Intrepid and fierce vehemence so that
a mother can successfully raise a child who, in her mental and mental needs,
is light or considerably different from what the dominant culture commands. He has
to gather certain heroic qualities, such as the heroines of myths. You must
be able to find and own these qualities in case they are not authorized.
You have to keep them and let them go at the right time and you
have to defend your own person and what you believe in. There is virtually
no way to prepare for that, except by arming yourself of value and entering
action from time immemorial. An act considered heroic has been the remedy of the
foolish ambivalence, the collapsed mother. In the end, the mother can no
longer endure the harassment of the child she has brought into the world. But
the most revealing thing is that she can no longer tolerate the torment that the
Community itself causes as a result of her attempts to protect her strange son.
And then it collapses and screams at the duckling. I wish you' d
get out of here and the unlucky duckling' s leaving. When a mother
collapses, psychologically it means that she has lost her sense of herself can be
an evil narcissistic mother who considers herself entitled to be a child. But most
likely it has been separated from the wild self and collapsed because of fear,
a real threat of a psychic or physical character. When people break down,
they usually slide into one of the next three emotional states. A mess is
confused, a dumpster believes that no one properly understands his torment or a well,
an emotional repetition of an ancient wound, often an unrepaired injustice and for
which no one paid with them in his childhood. To get a mother to
collapse, you have to cause an emotional division in her. Since time immemorial,
the most widely used means has been to force her to choose between love
for her child and fear of harm that the village may do to her and
her child if she does not abide by the rules. In Sophie' s
decision of Walliams Taven, heroine, Sophie is a prisoner in a Nazi extermination
camp. He appears before the presence of the Nazi commander with his two sons
in his arms. The commander forces her to choose, which of her children
will be saved and which of them will die, telling her that if she
refuses to do so, both children will die. Even if such a choice
is unthinkable. This is a psychic option that mothers have been forced to make
over the centuries. Follow the rules and kill your children or attack the consequences
and so on, when a mother is forced to choose between her child and
culture. We are in the presence of a terribly cruel and inconsiderate culture,
a culture that requires harming a person to defend its own precepts. It is
truly a very sick culture. This culture may be that in which the woman
lives, but the most serious thing is that it also gives can be the
one she carries with her within her mind. There are countless literal examples of
it all over the world. Six and some of the most infamous occur on
the American continent, where it has been traditional to force women to separate themselves
from their loved ones and the things they love. In the 18th, 19th
and 20th centuries there was the long and dreadful history of the breakup of families
forced into slavery. In recent centuries, mothers have had to surrender their children
to the homeland in time of war and, above all, rejoice in it.
Forced repatriations continue to take place today in seven countries around the world,
and at different times women have been forbidden to love and shelter whom they want
and in the way they want. One of the oppressions against the spiritual life
of women that is least talked about is that of millions of single mothers all
over the world, even in the United States, who in this century alone
have been forced by the dominant morals to hide their condition are either to hide
their children or to kill them or to renounce them or to live badly under
a false identity as humiliated citizens and deprived of all rights or eight. For
many generations, women have accepted the role of legitimated human beings through their marriage
to a man. They have agreed that a person is not acceptable unless he
so decides a man. Without male protection, the mother is vulnerable. It
is curious that in the ugly duckling the father is read mention only once when
the mother is dusting the egg of the ugly duckling and complains of the behavior
of the father of his young. The rascal hasn' t come to visit
me once. For a long time. In our culture. Unfortunately, and
for different reasons nine, the father has unfortunately been unable or unwilling to be
available to anyone, even to himself. You could rightly say that for many
wild girls the father was a collapsed man, a simple shadow that hung in
the closet every night along with his coat. When a woman has inside her
psyche or in the culture in which she lives, the image of a collapsed
mother often doubts her own worth. You may think that choosing between the satisfaction
of your external demands and the demands of your soul is a matter of life
or death. It may feel like a tormented outsider who doesn' t belong
anywhere, which is relatively normal in um exile, but what is by no
means normal is sitting down crying without doing anything about it. We have to
get up and go in search of a place to which one belongs. For
an exile. This is always the next step and for a woman with a
collapsed mother inside is the essential step. The woman who has a collapsed mother
must refuse to become the same. Mother child zero mother not spoiled. The
image represented by the mother- leg of the story is, as you can
see, very naive and unsophisticated. The most common kind of fragile mother is
by far that of the uncompromised mother. In the story, the one who
insisted so much on having children, is the one who later departs from his
son. There are many reasons why a human being or a psychic mother can
behave in this way. It can be a woman who hasn' t been
spoiled. She can be a fragile mother, very young or very naive from
a psychic point of view, she can be psychically hurt to the point of
being considered unworthy, of being loved even by a child. She may have
been so tortured by her family and culture that she does not consider herself worthy
to touch the ore of the radiant mother' s archetype that accompanies the new
motherhood. As you can see, there' s no turning a mother around.
You have to pamper her so she can pamper her children in turn.
Even though a woman has an inalienable spiritual and physical bond with the r with
her threads. In the world of instinctive wild woman, she does not suddenly
become a fully- formed temporary mother by herself and, by the way.
In ancient times, the qualities of wild nature were often conveyed through the hands
and words of women caring for young mothers. Above all, first- time
mothers carry within them not an expert, but a child mother. A mother
child can be any age, eighteen or forty years old. All first-
time mothers are young mothers. At first, a child mother is old enough
to have children and her good instincts follow the proper, but precise, direction
of the care of an older woman or of women who encourage, encourage and
support her in the care of her offspring. For centuries, this role has
been reserved for older women in the tribe or village. These human goddess mothers
were later relegated by Ners. Religious institutions to the role of madrinas constituted an
essential nutritional system of female, female feeding young mothers, in particular, teaching
them how to feed the psyche and soul of their children. When the role
of the mother goddess became a little more intellectual, the term godmother became a
person who took care that the child did not depart from the precepts of the
church. Many things were lost in this transmigration. The elderly were the depository
of wisdom and behaviour that they could transmit to the young mothers. Women transmit
this wisdom to each other with words, but also by other means. A
simple word, a look, a touch of the palm of the hand,
a murmur or a special kind of affectionate embrace are enough to convey complicated messages
about what you have to be and how you have to be. The instinctive
self always blesses and helps those who come behind. It is what happens between
healthy creatures and healthy humans. In this way, the mother child crosses the
threshold of the circle of mature mothers, who welcome her with jokes, gifts
and stories. This circle of women to women was once, the domain of
the wild woman and the number of members was unlimited. Anyone could belong to
him. But the only thing that remains for us today is the small vestige
of the feast that usually precedes the birth of a child and in which all
the jokes about childbirths, gifts to the mother and tales of catological character are
concentrated in about two hours, of which a woman will not be able to
enjoy again throughout her life as a mother. In almost all today' s
industrialized countries, the young mother goes through pregnancy and childbirth and tries to take
care of her child alone. It is a tragedy of enormous proportions. Since
many women are daughters of fragile mothers, uncompromised mothers and girls, they may
have an internal style of maternal care similar to that of their mothers. It
is very likely that the woman who has in her psyche the image of a
mother who is a child or a mother who is not spoiled or who has
her glorified by culture and who is kept active in the family, will experience
naive feelings, lack of experience and, above all, a weakening of the
instinctive ability to imagine what will happen within an hour, a week, a
month, a month, one, five or ten years. The woman who
carries a mother child adopts the air of a girl who wants to give them
to her as a mother. Women in this situation often show a widespread attitude
of life to everything, a variety of hypermaternalism in which they strive to do
everything and be everything for everyone. They cannot guide or support their children.
But, like the children of the ugly duckling farmer who are so happy to
have that creature in the house, they do not know how to give him
the care he needs. The mother girl ends up leaving her son dirty and
beaten without realizing it. The child mother tortures her children with various forms of
destructive care and, in some cases, for lack of necessary attention. Sometimes,
the fragile mother is in turn a swan that has been raised by ducks,
she has not managed to discover her true identity early enough so that her
children can benefit from it. Then, when her daughter stumbles upon the great
mystery of the wild nature of the feminine in adolescence, she also experiences pangs
of identification and swan impulses. The daughter' s search for identity may lead
to the beginning of the mother' s virginal journey in search of her lost
self between mother and daughter. There will therefore be in the basement of the
house two wild spirits shaking hands waiting for them to be called from above.
These are, therefore, the things that can be twisted when the mother is
turned away from her instinctive nature. But, but no, but there is
no need to sigh too loudly or for too long, because all that has
a remedy. The strong mother, the strong daughter. The remedy consists in
lovingly pampering the young mother who carries one, within which is achieved through women
of the outside world wiser and more mature, preferably tempered like steel and strengthened
by fire. Having gone through what they' ve had to go through whatever
the price they have to pay. Even today, their eyes see, their
ears, they hear their tongues speak and they are kind. Even though you
' ve had the most wonderful mother in the world, you may eventually have
more than one. Just like I' ve told my daughters so many times.
You are the daughters of a mother, but with a little luck,
you will have more than one and among them you will find almost everything you
need. Their relationships with all mothers will probably be progressive in nature, as
the need for guidance and advice never ends, nor should it end from the
point of view of women' s deep creative life. Ten relationships between women,
whether they are between women who share the same blood or between psychic companions
between analyst and patient, teacher and student or soul mates are kinship relationships of
the utmost importance. Although some of those who write about psychology today claim that
the abandonment of the maternal matrix is a feat that, if not fulfilled,
contaminates women forever. And even if others say that contempt for the mother herself
is something beneficial to the mental health of the individual, in reality the image
and concept of the wild mother cannot and should never be abandoned, for the
woman who does so abandons her deep nature, which contains all wisdom, all
bags and seeds, all needles to mend, all medicines, to work and
rest, to love and to wait more than to get rid of the mother.
Our intention must be to find a wise and wild mother. We'
re not here if we can' t be separated from her. Our relationship
with this spiritual mother has to turn incessantly, It has to change incessantly and
it is a paradox. This mother is the school in which we were born,
a school in which we are simultaneously students and teachers throughout our lives.
Whether we have children or not, whether we cultivate the garden or cultivate science
or the vibrant world of poetry, we will always stumble upon the wild mother
on our way to another place. And so it has to be. But
what to say about the woman who has actually gone through the experience of a
destructive mother in her childhood. Of course this period cannot be erased, but
it can be softened. They cannot be sweetened, but they can now be
rebuilt properly and with all their strength. It is not the rebuilding of the
inner mother that frightens many, but the fear that something essential has died,
something that will never be able to return to life, something that did not
receive food because the psychic mother was dead. I tell these women to calm
down because they are neither dead nor mortally wounded. As in nature, soul
and spirit have amazing resources such as wolves and other creatures. The soul and
spirit can live with very little and sometimes they can spend a lot of time
with nothing. For me. This is the greatest miracle there can be.
Once I was transplanting a living hedge of lilacs. A large shrub had died
for mysterious reasons, but the others were covered in purple spring flowers. When
I pulled him out of the ground, the dead bush creaked like the brittle
shell of peanuts. I discovered that his system of roots was attached to those
of the remaining living lilacs bordering the entire fence. But the most surprising thing
was to discover that the dead bush was the mother. Its roots were the
oldest and strongest. All her older children were wonderful, even though she was
upside down. So to speak. The lilacs reproduce with the so- called
chupon system. So each tree is an initial progenitor stem m. With this
system, if the mother fails, the child can survive. This is the
pattern and psychic promise for women who have not had maternal care or have had
very few, and also for those whose mothers have tortured them. Even if
the mother falls, even if she has nothing to offer, the daughter will
develop, grow independently, and the bad company will prosper. The ugly duckling
goes around looking for a place to rest. Although the instinct that tells us
where to go is not fully developed. The instinct that induces us to keep
wandering until we find what we need remains intact. However, in ugly duckling
syndrome. Sometimes there' s some kind of pathology. You keep knocking on
doors that you shouldn' t, even though I' m telling you you
wouldn' t have to. It' s hard to imagine that a person
can know which doors are wrong when he' s never known what a proper
door was. However, the wrong doors cause a person to feel once again
a proscribed person. This quest for love in all the wrong places is the
reaction to exile. When a woman resorts to compulsive and repeated behavior, repeating
again and again a behavior that does not satisfy her and what causes decline rather
than prolonged vitality to relieve her exile. What it does is actually do more
damage, as the initial wound in each of its incursions is not cured.
It' s kind of like applying a ridiculous medicine to your nose when you
' ve cut yourself in the arm. Different women choose different kinds of wrong
medicines. Some choose those that are visibly wrong, such as bad company or
vices and whims harmful or harmful to the soul, things that first elevate the
woman and then tear her to the ground in less than what a rooster sings.
There are several solutions to these wrong choices. If the woman could sit
and contemplate her heart, she would see in her the need for her qualities,
her gifts and her limitations to be recognized and respectfully accepted. Therefore,
to start healing, stop fooling yourself thinking that a wrong little pleasure will cure
your broken leg tell the truth about your wound and then you will understand the
remedy you have to apply to it. Do not fill the void with what
is easier for you or what you have more at hand wait to find the
right medicine. You will recognize her, because your life will be stronger and
not weaker. What does not seem right, as the ugly duckling a stranger
learns to stay away from situations in which, even if one acts correctly,
it does not seem so. The duckling, for example, can swim very
well, but it doesn' t make that impression. A woman can offer
a right look, but not know how to act properly. There are many
sayings about people who cannot disguise what they are in their inner forum. They
don' t want it from the Texano Oriental, as much as the costumes
won' t be able to take them for a walk to the Spanish.
Although the monkey wears cute silk, she stays at eleven in the story,
the duckling starts to behave like a fool twelve. He' s one of
those guys who doesn' t do anything to the right. Dust on the
butter and fall into the barrel of Flour, but not before falling into the
jar of milk. We' ve all had moments like this, we'
re doing everything backwards, we' re trying to fix it, and it
' s even worse for the duckling, nothing had been lost in that house.
But we see what happens when you' re desperate, go where you
shouldn' t and do what you shouldn' t, as one of my
dear colleagues said, dead people can' t give you milk at the ram
' s house thirteen. Although it is useful to build bridges even with groups
to which one does not belong and it is important to try to be kind,
it is also essential not to make too much effort and not to believe
too much that one does. One behaves as it should and manages to hide
all the itchings and chrispations of the wild creature will get to look like a
gentle, reserved, moderating lady and circumspect this kind of behavior. This ego
fan of finding a place at all costs is the one who cuts off the
connection with the wild woman of the psyche. In such a case, instead
of a vital woman, we have a woman without claws, we have a
stubborn, measured and well- intentioned woman who is dying to be good because
it is not much better, much more elegant and infinitely more spiritual to be
what one is and how one is and to let others be what they are.
The feeling paralyzed, the creativity paralyzed. Women face exile in other ways,
such as the duckling trapped in the pond ice they also freeze. The
worst thing a person can do is freeze coldness, it' s the kiss
of death, of creativity, of relationship and of life. Some women behave
as if being cold was a feat, but it is not. It'
s an act of defensive anger. In archetypal psychology, being cold amounts to
a lack of feelings. There are stories about the frozen child, the child
who could not feel the frozen corpses on the ice over a period in which
nothing could be moved, nothing could be turned into anything and nothing could be
done. Being frozen means in a human being, deliberately lacking feelings, especially
towards one' s own person, but also and sometimes even more toward others.
Even if it is a mechanism of self- protection, it is a
very hard thing for yes that spiritual, for the soul does not respond to
coldness, but to heat. An icy attitude extinguishes a woman' s creative
fire, inhibits the creative function. This is a very serious problem, but
the story gives us an idea. The ice has to be broken and the
soul has to be pulled out of the cold ice. For example, when
writers feel very dry. They know the best way to get wet is to
write. On the other hand, if they stay paralyzed on the ice,
they won' t be able to write. There are painters who die of
desire to paint, but they say long from here your work is bizarre and
ugly. There are many artists who have not yet managed to assert themselves or
who are very expert in the development of their creative existences and who, however,
each time they take the pen, the brush the tapes, the script
hear a voice that tells them you are nothing more than a nuisance. Your
work is marginal or totally unacceptable, because you yourself are marginal and unacceptable.
So where is the solution? Do what the duckling does? Go on,
no matter how much it costs you. Take the pen, bring it to
the page and stop whining. Write, Take the brusholi for a change it
lasts, cabbage your own person and paints dancers. Put on the loose tunic,
Tie up ribbons on your hair, waist and ankles of the des Tell
the body to start. From there, dance actress, comediographer, poet,
musician or whoever you are stop talking, do not say one more word unless
you are singers. Lock yourselves in a room with a roof or in a
clearing of the forest under the sky dedicated to your art. As a general
rule, one thing cannot be frozen if you move, because do not stop
moving the stranger by the way. Although in the story the farmer who takes
the duckling home seems like a literary architect to adorn the story and not a
motifar leit that typical about exile. The episode contains an idea that I find
interesting. The person who might get us out of the ice and perhaps be
able to free us psychically from our lack of feelings is not necessarily going to
be the one that corresponds to us. It could be, as in the
story, one more of those magnificent, but fleeting events that appeared when we
least expected it, an act of kindness, of a passing stranger. Here
is another example of psyche food that occurs when a person is at the limit
of his strength and can no longer resist. In that case, something that
comforts us. It appears as raining from heaven to help us and then it
is lost in the night leaving behind a trail of doubt was a human being
or a spirit. It could be a sudden burst of luck that crosses the
door carrying with it something very necessary. It could be something as simple as
a truce, a decrease in pressure, a small space of rest and rest.
Now we' re not talking about a fairy tale, we' re
talking about real life. Whatever it is. It is a moment when the
spirit in one way or another forces us to go out. It shows us
the secret passageway, the hiding place, the route of flight and this apparition,
when we feel downcast and stormily dark or darkly serene, is what pushes
us through the passageway towards the next step, the next phase of learning the
force of exile. The gift of exile, if you' ve tried to
fit in some mold and you haven' t made it, you' ve
probably been lucky. You may be exiled, but you have protected your soul.
When someone repeatedly tries to fit in and doesn' t get it,
a strange phenomenon occurs. When the unwritten bow is rejected, it falls directly
into the arms of its true psychic relative, which can be a matter of
study, an artistic form or a group of people. It' s worse
to stay in place than not a hundred one. It is not at all
fitting that we should be lost for some time seeking the psychic and spiritual kinship
that we never need. It' s a mistake to look for what one
ever needs. All this torsion and tension have a utility. Exile consolidates and
strengthens the duckling in a certain way. Although this is a situation that we
would not wish anyone for any reason, its effect is similar to that of
pure natural coal which, under pressure, produces diamonds. In the end it
leads to a profound magnitude and clarity of the psyche. It is something like
an alchemical procedure in which the lead base substance is beaten and flattened. Although
exile is not desirable by taste, it has an unexpected advantage, for its
benefits are very numerous. The blows that are received eliminate weakness and the whining
sharpen the vision, increase intuition give the gift of a insightful capacity for observation
and a perspective that those within can never reach. Even though exile has negative
aspects. The wild psyche can bear it, for it increases our longing to
liberate our true nature and induces us to desire a culture in accordance with it.
Desire and desire alone make a person move forward. It causes a woman
to keep searching and, in case she fails to find an appropriate culture,
it causes her to build it herself, which is very good, because if
she builds it one day other women who have been searching for a long time
will mysteriously appear and proclaim with enthusiasm that it is what they were so eager
to find. The hairless cats and the viscose hens of the world. The
unspeakable cat and the viscose hen consider the duckling' s aspirations stupid and foolish.
His attitude offers us a perspective on the susceptibility and values of those who
mock those who are not like them. Who could imagine a cat liking water,
who could imagine a hen going swimming. No one, of course,
but too often from the exile' s point of view, when people are
not equal, the inferior is always exiled and the limitations and or the motives
of the other are not properly weighed or judged well so as not to consider
a inferior person and a superior person. At least no more than we are
interested in the purposes of this discussion, let' s just say that here
the duckling lives the same experience as thousands of exiled women, that of a
basic incompatibility with different people, which is nobody' s fault, even though
almost all women are overly servile and act as if they were personally at fault
when it happens. We see that some women are willing to apologize for occupying
a space. We see that many women are afraid to simply say no thanks
and just leave. We see that many women pay attention to someone who tells
them over and over again that they are stubborn without understanding that cats don'
t swim and the hens don' t feel like they go under the water.
I must admit that sometimes in the exercise of my profession I find it
useful to line up the different types of personalities such as cats, hens,
ducks, swans and things like that. If the case requires it, I
sometimes ask my client to imagine for an instant that he is an unknowing swan
and also to think for an instant that he has been raised between ducks or
is surrounded by ducks. Today, ducks have nothing wrong, I assure you,
neither do swans. But ducks are ducks and swans are swans. Sometimes
to prove a hit I have to move on to other animal metaphors and if
it had been raised by mice, but it was you don swan, swans
and mice tend to hate their respective foods. Some people think other people'
s food smells really weird. They have no interest in being together. If
it' s you watching, you' d hang out harassing each other.
And yes, being a swan, you had to pretend you' re a
mouse and if you had to pretend you' re hairy gray and tiny,
and if you didn' t have a long, winding tail to lift up
in the air the day you had to flaunt a tail and if wherever you
were you tried to walk like a mouse, but you walked like a duck.
And if you tried to walk like a mouse, but every time you
made it sound like a claxson, you wouldn' t be the most miserable
creature in the world. The answer is unequivocal. Yeah. Therefore, if
that is true and so, why do women insist on bowing down and taking
forms that are not their own. I can say, for my many years
of clinical observation of this problem that most of the time this is not due
to a deep- rooted masochism or a perverse intention of self- destruction or
anything like that. More often it' s because the woman simply doesn'
t know how to do anything else. No one has lovingly cared for her.
The saying you can know many things, it doesn' t mean making
sense. Apparently, the duckling knows things, but it lacks sense. He
has not been spoiled, that is, he has not been taught anything.
At the most basic level, remember that it is the mother who teaches by
expanding the innate endowments of her offspring The mothers of the animal kingdom who teach
their young to hunt teach them exactly how to hunt, for that they already
carry it in their blood. Rather, they teach them to be vigilant,
to pay attention to things they do not know. If before she does not
teach them, activating her ability to learn and her innate wisdom. The same
is true of the exiled woman, if she is an ugly duckling if she
has not been pampered, her instincts are not sore, for which reason she
has to learn from experience, go through many trials and make many mistakes.
But there is hope, for the exile is never given up. Go ahead
until you find a guide, a trail, a print, until you find
your home. Wolves are never more ridiculous than when they lose track and try
to find him again. They jump in the air, cut in a circle,
snoop the ground, scratch the earth, run, recede and stand still
like statues. They seem to have lost their mind, but what they'
re actually doing is moving on. All the clues you can find swallow them
in flight, fill your lungs with the smells you perceive at the level of
the ground and the level of your shoulders. They savour the air to see
who has passed by lately and move their ears like parabolic antennas, capturing the
distant transmissions. Once you' ve gathered all the clues in one place,
you know what you have to do. Although a woman may offer to be
a stunned look when she has lost contact with the life she values most and
runs from one side to the other in her eagerness to recover it, most
of the time she is collecting information, savoring this or touching that with her
paw. The most that can be done in such cases is to briefly explain
what you are doing and then leave her alone. As soon as you process
all the information from the tracks you have collected you will act again for a
definite purpose and then the desire to belong to the club of the de-
skinned cat and the visca hen will be reduced to nothing. The memory and
the eagerness to go forward against wind and tide. We all feel the longing
to meet with our own, with our wild relatives. Let us remember that
the duckling fled after being tortured mercilessly. Then he met a herd of geese
and was about to die at the hands of some hunters. He was driven
out of the corral and a farmer' s house and finally came trembling tiredly
on the shore of a lake. There is no woman among us who does
not know this feeling and yet this longing is what drives us to resist and
move forward without any hope. This is the promise he makes to all psyches.
Wild, though we have only heard of, glimpsed or dreamed of a
zero- world prodigies, Wild to which we once belonged and even though we
have not yet touched it or have only momentarily done so and do not identify
ourselves as part of it, its memory is a beacon that guides us to
the place that corresponds to us and already for the rest of our lives,
in the ugly duckling a perspicacious ancis is awakened. When he sees him rising,
I fly to the swans and for this very fact alone, the memory
of that vision sustains him. Once I treated a woman who was at the
limit of her strength and thought of suicide. A spider that was weaving her
cloth in the panoche caught his attention. We will never know that detail of
the behavior of that little animal broke the ice that had imprisoned his soul and
allowed him to regain freedom and grow again. But I am convinced, not
only as a psychoanalyst, but also as a singer, that many times the
things of nature are the most healing, especially the very simple ones and the
ones that we have most at our disposal. The medicines of nature are very
powerful and honest. A faggot in the green, bark of a watermelon,
a tetirrojo with a piece of thread in the beak, a flowery plant,
a shooting star and even a rainbow in a fragment of glass on the street
may be an appropriate medicine. Perseverance is a very curious thing. It requires
enormous energy and can receive enough food for a month with only five minutes of
contemplation of calm waters. It is interesting to note that among wolves, however
sick, it is however cornered it is and by itself to its sons or
weakened that it sits a wolf goes on. He will approach the others in
search of the protection of the herd. He will try by all means to
resist, defeat with his wits, leave behind and survive whatever is harassing him.
He' ll put all his effort into breathing little by little. If
necessary, it will drag like a duckling from one place to another until it
finds a good place a healing place, a place to recover. The distinctive
mark of wild nature is its eagerness to carry on its perseverance. This is
not something we do, but something we are in a natural and innate way.
When we cannot prosper, we move on until we can prosper again.
Even if we are separated from our creative life, even if we have been
driven out of a culture or religion, even if we are suffering family exile,
a banishment by a group, a punishment for our movements, thoughts and
feelings, the inner wildlife will continue and we will continue to advance. Wild
nature does not belong to any ethnic group. In particular, it is the
essential nature of women in Benin, Cameroon and New Guinea. It is present
in women in Latvia, the Netherlands and Sierra Leone. It is the center
of Guatemalan, Haitian and Polynesian women in any country, in any race,
in any religion, in any tribe in any city, village or solitary.
Border post, all women have in common the wild woman and the wild soul.
They all follow the wild and grope for him. Therefore, if necessary,
women will paint the blue sky on the prison walls. If they burn
the sledges, they' ll spin others. If the harvest is destroyed,
they will immediately sow more seeds. The women will draw doors where there are
no doors, open them and cross them. To enter into new ways and
new lives. Women will persevere and prevail, because wild nature perseveres and prevails.
The duckling is in a sad loss. Life. He has felt lonely,
he has been cold, he has frozen, he has been harassed and
persecuted, he has been shot, he has been abandoned, he has not
been fed. He has been absolutely helpless on the brink of life and death,
not knowing what was going to happen. Then and now comes the most
important part of the story. It approaches spring, accelerates the arrival of the
new life. A new twist is possible, a new attempt. The most
important thing is to resist and persevere, because the wildlife promises the following,
after winter, always comes spring. Love of resistance continues to resist. Do
your job, you' ll find your way. At the end of the
story, the swans recognize the duckling as one of their own before he does.
That' s very typical of exiled women. After their hard pilgrimage,
they manage to cross the border and enter their domestic territory, but it often
takes some time to realize that people' s eyes are no longer derogatory and
often neutral, when not admiring and approving. I would have thought that,
having found their own psychic territory, women would have to feel overflowingly happy,
but not so. For some time, at least they feel terribly distrustful.
These people really appreciate me. I' m really safe. They' ll
chase me here. I can really sleep now with both eyes closed. It
' s okay for me to behave like a swan. After some time,
the suspicions disappear and the next phase of the return to one' s own
person begins, which consists in the acceptance of the singular beauty of one'
s own being, that is, of the wild soul of which we are
made. There is probably no better or more reliable means to find out whether
a woman has gone through the condition of an ugly duckling at any time in
her life or throughout her entire life, than her inability to digest a sincere
compliment, although such behavior could be attributed to modesty or shyness and even though
too many serious wounds are released lightly as pure shyness fourteen often a compliment is
rejected with clumsy stuttering because it triggers an automatic and unpleasant dialogue in the woman
' s mind. If someone tells her that she is charming to oppose the
beauty of her art or congratulates her on something that her soul inspired or in
which she participated and intervened something in her mind, she tells her that she
does not deserve it and you, the person who happy you are an idiot
for thinking such a thing. Instead of understanding that the beauty of her soul
shines when she is herself, the woman changes the subject and literally snatches food
from the spiritual self who lives of recognition and admiration. Therefore, this is
the final task of the exile who finds her own not only accepting one'
s own individuality, one' s own specific identity as a person of a
particular type, but also one' s own beauty, the form of one
' s soul and the recognition that living in contact with that wild creature transforms
us and transforms everything that touches us. When we accept our wild beauty,
we put it in perspective and are no longer movingly aware of it. But
for no reason in the world would we abandon or deny it. A wolf
knows how beautiful she is when she jumps. The female of a feline knows
how beautiful the shapes she creates when she sits, a bird is impressed by
the rumor she hears, when she spreads her wings, when we learn from
them, we behave according to our true way of being and we do not
back down or hide in the presence of our natural beauty. Like the other
creatures, we just exist. And that' s how it should be in
the case of women. This search and this finding are based on the mysterious
passion they feel for what is wild, so they themselves are innate in character.
The object of this longing has been called here the wild woman. But
even when they ignore her name and don' t even know where she lives,
women strive to meet her and love her with all their heart. I
miss her. Not even this longing is at a time motivation and locomotion.
This yearning is what induces us to seek out and find the wild woman is
not as difficult as it might seem at first sight, for the wild woman
is also looking for us. We are his daughters, the wrong zygote.
Throughout all the years of exercising my profession, I have understood that sometimes this
question of belonging has to be addressed with a lighter temper, since frivolity can
relieve in part the pain of a woman. I began to tell my clients
this story that I made up myself entitled the wrong zygote, to help her,
especially to contemplate her condition as an outsider with a more powerful metaphor.
The story says so you have ever wondered how you managed to end up in
a family as rare as yours if you have lived your existence as an outsider,
as a slightly strange or different person. If you are a lonely woman
and live on the edge of the main stream, you have suffered and yet
there comes also a time when you have to move away rowing around all these
things, Know another strategic position. To emigrate to the land that corresponds to
us ceases to suffer and to try to find out where to fail the mystery
of it. Why, you were born, as the daughter of whoever is
finished Finis, it is over rest a moment in the bow and cool off
with the wind blowing from your homeland. For many years, women who lead
the mythical life of the wild woman' s archetype have wondered silently crying,
why I' m so different, why I was born into such a strange
or insensitive family, wherever their lives wanted to spring up. There was someone
who poured salt into the earth so that nothing could grow. They were tortured
by all the prohibitions that went against their natural desires. If they were daughters
of nature, they kept them under a roof. If they were scientists,
they told them they had to be mothers. If they wanted to be mothers,
they were told they didn' t fit the idea at all. If
they wanted to invent something, they were told to be practical. If they
wanted to create, they were told that a woman' s household chores never
end. Sometimes they tried to be good and adapt to the prevailing guidelines without
even later realizing what they really wanted and how much they needed to live afterwards,
in order to have a life, they experienced the painful amputations of leaving
to their families marriages that they had vowed to keep to death the jobs that
would have had to be the trampolines towards something more stupendous, but better paid.
They left dreams scattered all the way. Women were often artists who sought
to be reasonable, devoting eighty percent of their time to activities that killed their
creative life on a daily basis. Although the scripts were very varied, they
all had one element in common. At a very early age they were described
as different with pejorative connotations, but in reality they were passionate individualists and anxious
if they were all in their instinctive right mind. Therefore, the answer to
why? Me? Why? This family why I am so different is naturally
that there are no answers to such questions. However, the ego needs something
to take to the mouth before moving forward, for which reason I propose three
answers. In spite of everything, a woman subjected to psychoanalysis may choose her
which she likes, but she has to choose one almost all is chosen in
the latter, but any one of them is enough to prepare yourself. Here
we are born as we are and in the strange families by which we came
into this world one, because if that almost nobody believes it. Dosel.
I have a plan and our tiny brains are too small to understand. Many
find it a hopeful idea or three because of the wrong zygote syndrome. Well,
yeah, maybe, but that' s what it is. Your family
thinks you' re an alien. You have feathers and they have scales.
The idea you have of fun is the woods, the wild spaces, the
inner life, the majestic beauty of creation. Your family' s idea of
fun is to fold towels. If that' s what happens in your family,
you' re a victim of the wrong zygote syndrome. Your family moves
very slowly through time. You move with the speed of the wind. They
' re the quacks and you' re rested, or they' re taciturnal
and you like to sing. You know why you know? They want proof
and a 300- page thesis. There' s no doubt about it.
It' s the wrong zygote syndrome. You' ve never heard of him.
You see, the side of the zygotes was flying one night over your
city, while all the little droplets I had in the basket jumped and jumped
with excitement. You were really nothing of yours to some parents who would have
understood you. But the zygote fairy stumbled upon a rascal and you fell out
of the basket and went to a wrong house, fell headlong into a family
that wasn' t meant for you. Your real family was five kilometers away.
That' s why you fell in love with a family that wasn'
t yours and lived five kilometers further. You always thought that I wish,
Mr Fulano of such and his wife would have been your parents, it is
very likely that they were destined to do so. That' s why you
dance the tap down the halls, despite belonging to a family of TV addicts.
That' s why your parents get alarmed every time you come home or
visit them. What are you going to do now? They wonder worried.
Last time he embarrassed us and only God knows what he' s going to
do now. They cover their eyes when they see you coming and not precisely
why the light that you send away the lights. You just want love.
They only want peace for the members of your family for personal reasons, for
their preferences, for their innocence, for the wounds suffered, for constitution,
mental illness or deliberate ignorance. They are not very good at spontaneity with the
subconscious and, naturally, when you see their notes the house, you evoke
the archetype of the joker, from which weapon I read. Therefore, before
breaking bread together, the joker experiences the irrepressible desire to throw a hair into
the family stew. Even if you don' t pretend to bother your family
members, they get upset anyway. When you show up, everything goes crazy.
An unequivocal sign of the presence of wild zygotes in the family is the
fact that parents are constantly offended and children have the feeling of never doing anything
to the right. Family that' s not wild, they just want one
thing, but the wrong zygote never gets to figure out what it is even
if he finds out, they' ll be as hairy as exclamation signs get
ready, because I' m going to tell you the big secret. That
' s what they really want from you that' s so mysterious and transcendental.
Those who are not savages want you to be consistent. They want you
to be exactly the same today as yesterday. They want you not to change
with the passing of days, but to remain always as at the beginning.
Ask the family if they want consistent behavior and they will answer you in the
affirmative. In everything they won' t say only in important things. Regardless
of what is important in their value system, they are often anathema to the
wild nature of women. Unfortunately, the important things for them do not coincide
with the important things for the wild daughter. Consequential conduct is something impossible for
a wild woman, for her strength lies in her adaptation to changes, in
her dances, her howlings, her grunts, her deep instinctive life, her
creative fire is not consistent through uniformity, but rather through creative life, her
shrewd perceptions, speed, vision, flexibility and ability. If we had to
name just one of the things that make the wild woman what she is,
it would be her sensitivity, her responsiveness. The word answer comes from the
Latin verb. I will respond, whose meaning is, among other things,
to promise to guarantee, to commit your insightful and skillful answers are a consistent
promise and a commitment to creative forces, whether it is the goblin, the
spirit that is hidden behind charm and passion, or whether it is beauty,
art, dance or life. The promise he doesn' t use if we
don' t. The evil thing is to help us live fully alive in
a consistent and responsible way. In this way, the wrong zygote offers his
loyalty not to his family, but to his inner self. That' s
why the woman feels torn. You could say that her wolf mother grabs her
by the tail and her biological family grabs her by the arms. It won
' t take long for you to cry out of pain, show your teeth
and bite yourself and bite others before a deadly silence occurs. If you look
her in the eyes, you will see, eyes of heaven, eyes of
a person who is no longer here. Although socialization is very important for children,
killing the inner creature is tantamount to killing the child. Western Africans recognize
that being tough on a child results in the soul moving away from the body
sometimes only a few steps and sometimes several days on the way. Although the
needs of the child soul have to be balanced with the need for safety and
physical care and with carefully studied concepts about civilized behavior, I always care about
children who behave too well, as their eyes often reflect a cowardly soul,
something doesn' t go well an almazana shines through the person almost every day
and shines out certain days where there is a notorious wound. The soul escapes
Sometimes it goes aimlessly or escapes so far that it takes a masterful propitiation to
convince it to return. It' s got to be a long time before
it' s like that. Alma regain confidence enough to come back, but
it can be done. Several ingredients are needed for them. Pureness, honesty,
endurance, tenderness, sweetness, venting of anger, grace. The combination
of all these things creates a song that induces the soul to return home.
What are the needs of the soul. They belong to two realms, that
of nature and that of creativity. In these kingdoms live naas he dosatza,
the spider woman, the great creative spirit of the Dine Indians she protects her
people. His action, among others, is the teaching of love for beauty.
The needs of the soul are found in the hut of these three old
or young women, according to the day Clotus sisters, the one who sisi
atropo, who weave the red thread that means the passion of a woman'
s life, leave the ages of a woman' s life and tie them
together when one of them ends and begins the next. They are found in
the forests of the spirits of the hunters Diana and Artemis, who are wolf
women who represent the ability to hunt, track and recover different aspects of the
psyche. The needs of the soul are governed by Cuatliquee, the goddesses of
female self- sufficiency who gives birth in squats and firmly seated on the feet.
She teaches what the life of a lonely woman is, she is the
doer of children, that is, of a new life potential, but she
is also the mother of death who wears skulls in her skirt that sound like
the rattles of a snake, as they are snake skulls. And since the
rattles of the skulls also sound like rain by resonance affinity, they attract rain
upon the earth. She is the protector of all lonely women and those whose
magic and thoughts and ideas are so powerful that they have to live on the
margins of who knows where not to dazzle the villagers too much. Quatiqua is
the special protector of the outsider, what is the essential food of the soul.
Well, that differs from creature to creature, but here are some combinations
that can be considered something like a psychic macrobiotic. For some women, air,
night, sunlight and trees are essential needs. Others can only be satisfied
with words, paper and works. For others, colour, shape, shade
and clay are absolute needs. Some women have to jump, bow down and
run, as their souls crave to dance. Others only made peace by leaning
on the trunk of a tree. Another issue still needs to be taken into
account. The wrong zygotes learn to be survivors. It' s hard to
spend years among those who can' t help us flourish. The fact that
someone can say he' s a survivor is already a feat. For many
people the power resides in the same name. However, in the process of
individuation comes a time when the threat or trauma already belongs significantly to the past.
It is time to move from the survival phase to that of healing and
growth. If we stay in the survival phase without going to that of it
growth, we limit ourselves and halve our energy, hil our power in the
world. The pride that some people experience in being survivors can be an obstacle
to further creative development. Sometimes people fear to overcome their situation as survivors,
for it is only that, a situation, a distinctive mark, a feat
of others. You' re worth believing, because it' s the pure
truth. Instead of making survival the axis of one' s life, it
is best to use it as one of our insignia, but not the only
one. Human beings deserve to be recreated in the beautiful memories, medals and
decorations received for having lived and triumphed in full rule. But once the threat
has passed, we can fall into the trap of using the names we have
earned in the most terrible moments of our lives, which creates a mental disposition
that can limit us. It is not good to base the identity of the
soul exclusively on the exploits, losses and victories of the bad moments. Although
survival can leave a woman as hardened as the ox killer to ally us at
a certain point exclusively with her, it can inhibit new developments. When a
woman insists over and over again on saying I am a survivor, once the
phase in which it could prove useful. The task ahead is very clear.
The person must be torn from the archetype of survival. Otherwise, nothing else
could grow. I like to compare this situation with that of a little plant
that gets without sun water or fertilizer to draw a brave and tenacious little eye.
In spite of everything, however, now that the bad times are behind
us. Growth means exposing us to situations conducive to the birth and toe development
of vigorous and abundant flowers and leaves. It is better to give us names
that invite us to grow as free creatures. That' s growth, that
' s what was meant for us. Rituals are one of the means used
by human beings to place their lives in perspective, whether it is the purin
of the Jews, the advent of Christians or the descent of the moon.
Rituals evoke the shadows and spectra of people' s lives, classify them and
appease them. There is a special image of the Day of the Dead celebrations,
which can be used to help women make the transition from survival to growth
is based on the rite of so- called offerings, altars erected in honor
of the deceased. The offerings are tributes, memorials and expressions of deep consideration
to loved ones who are no longer on this earth. I think it'
s more useful for women to make an offering to the girl they used to
be, something like a will in favor of the heroic girl. Some women
choose written objects, clothing, toys, memories of events and other symbols of
the childhood to be represented. They mount the offering in their own way,
tell a story that sometimes fits with it and sometimes not and then leave it
there as long as they want. It is proof of all the hardships of
the past, its courage and its triumph over adversity fifteen. This way of
looking at the past achieves several objectives. It allows you to see things in
perspective with a compassionate look at the past, showing what has been experienced,
what has been done with the past and what is admirable in it. The
admiration that the past arouses, rather than its existence, is what liberates the
person from remaining a surviving child beyond the period in which it occurred. It
' s too much identification with an injured archetype. Understanding the wound and remembering
it allows us to grow. Our right as women is to grow up not
just to survive, not to milanes and not to chicken out. If they
call you black sheep, nonconformist, lone wolf. The narrow- minded say
that the non- conformists are a scourge of society. However, it has
been shown over the centuries that being different means being on the sidelines, being
certain that one will make an original contribution, a useful and surprising contribution to
its culture. Sixteen. When you seek guidance, never pay attention to the
pusillanimous. Be kind to them, fill them with compliments, try to trick
them, but do not follow their advice. If you have ever been called
insolent, incorrigible, brazen, cunning, revolutionary, undisciplined, rebellious, you
are on the right track, the wild woman is very sno if you have
never been called any of that there is still time. Practice with your wild
woman andle keeps trying. Part seven the joy of the body. Wild meat
fascinates me the way wolves collide with each other when they run and play old
wolves in their own way, the young ones to their own, the skinny
ones, the patillargos, the rabicortos, those with hanging ears, those whose
fractured extremities were welded crooked. They all have their own configurations and body strength,
their own beauty. They live and play according to who they are and
how they are. They don' t pretend to be what they' re
not. Up there, in the north, I once saw an old wolf
that only had three legs. She was the only one who could pass through
a crevice where blueberries grew. Again I saw a grey wolf bend down and
stick a jump so fast that for a second he left the image of a
silver bow in the air. I remember a very delicate, a fresh parity
still with the deformed belly, stepping on the moss on the edge of the
pond with the grace of a dancer. And yet, despite its beauty and
its ability to retain strength, the wolves are sometimes told of the next stew.
You' re too hungry, you have too sharp teeth, your appetites
are too interested, just as it is with the wolves. Sometimes women are
spoken of as if only a certain temperament, only a certain moderate appetite was
acceptable, to which is added with all too often a judgment on the mortal
goodness or evil of a woman according to her size, stature, walks and
forms conform or not to a singular and select ideal. When women are relegated
to moods. Gestures and profiles that only coincide with a single ideal of beauty
and behavior, are imprisoned in body and soul and are no longer free.
In the instinctive psyche, the body is considered a sensor, an information network,
a messenger with a myriad of respiratory cardiovascular communication systems. Skeletal, autonomous
and also emotional and intuitive. In the imaginative world, the body is a
powerful vehicle, a spirit that lives with us, a prayer of life in
its own right. In fairy tales, the personified body, in magical objects
that possess superhuman qualities and powers, presents itself with two sets of ears,
one to hear the material world and the other to hear the soul. Two
sets of eyes, one for normal vision and one for clairvoyance two kinds of
strength, the strength of the muscles and the invincible strength of the soul.
The list of the body' s double elements is endless. In body development
systems, such as the Felden method, race in ayurbeda and others, it
is connssides that the body is endowed with six senses instead of five. The
body uses the skin, deep phases, and flesh to record everything that happens
around it. For those who know how to read it, the body is
like the rosetta stone, a living record of the life given, the life
taken away, the life expected and the life healed. It is valued for
its ability to react immediately, its deep sensitivity and its foresight. The body
is a multilingual being It speaks through its color and temperature, the burning of
recognition, the glow of love, the ash of pain, the heat of
excitement, coldness, mistrust. He speaks through his tiny and constant dance,
sometimes swinging, others moving with nervousness and others with tremors. He speaks through
the turns of the heart, discouragement, the central abyss and the rebirth of
hope. The body remembers or s bones s NS. They remember the joints,
remember and even the little finger remembers. Remembrance is housed in the images
and sensations of cells, as is the case with a sponge soaked in water
wherever the meat is compressed, squeezed and even lightly rubbed. Remembrance can arise
as a spring to reduce the beauty and value of the body to anything inferior
to this magnificence is to force the body to live without the spirit, form
and exultation that correspond to it. Be considered ugly or unacceptable by the fact
that the beauty itself is in the image of the current fashion. It deeply
erodes the natural joy that is characteristic of wild nature. Women have good reasons
to reject psychological and physical models that offend the spirit and cut off the relationship
with the wild soul. It is clear that the instinctive nature of women values
the body and spirit much more by its vitality, capacity for reaction and resistance
than by any detail of its appearance, which does not mean rejecting the person
or object that is considered beautiful by some segment of culture, but drawing a
wider circle that encompasses all varieties of beauty, form and function body language.
I once formed with a friend of mine a storytelling tandem called body language,
destined to discover the ancestral virtues of our relatives and friends. Opalanga is an
African- American griot as tall and thin as a roof. I' m
a Mexican. I have a very earthly workmanship and abundant flesh, apart from
being mocked by her stature as a child. Opalanga was told that the separation
between her front teeth meant she was a liar and I was told that the
shape and size of my body meant that it was inferior and lacking self-
control. In our accounts of the body, we talked about the stones and
arrows that had thrown at us throughout our lives, because, according to the
great seals, our bodies had too much of this and too little of the
other. In our accounts we sang a song of mourning for the bodies of
which we were not allowed to enjoy. We' d swing, dance and
look at each other. Each of us thought the other was so beautiful and
mysterious that it seemed impossible for the others not to believe it. So what
a surprise it took me to learn that she had traveled to the Gambia,
West Africa, when she was older, and had met some representatives of her
ancestral people, in whose tribe she looks where. Many people were as tall
and thin as yew and had separate front teeth. That separation was explained to
him by the name of sacaya yaya, that is, the opening of God,
and it was considered a sign of wisdom and what a surprise she took.
When I told him that I had traveled to the Tehuantepec isthmus in Mexico
when I was older and had met some representatives of my ancestral village, who
look where. They were a tribe of flirtatious and gigantic women of strong body
and considerable volume. They slapped me one and beat me nakedly saying I wasn
' t fat enough. She ate enough, she had been sick. I
had to make an effort to get fat. They explained to me, since
women are the earth and round like it, because the earth encompasses many things.
Two or, therefore, in representation, as in our lives, our
personal stories, which had begun to be oppressive and depressing, at the same
time ended with joy and a strong sense. Of the Opalanda self he understands
that his stature is his beauty, his smile is that of wisdom and the
voice of God is always close to his lips. And I understand that my
body is not separated from the earth, that my feet are made to settle
firmly on the ground, and my body is a vessel destined to contain many
things. Thanks to powerful peoples not belonging to our American culture, we learned
to attribute a new value to the body and to reject ideas and language that
insulted the mystery of the body or ignored the female body as an instrument of
wisdom three to experience a deep pleasure in a world full of many kinds of
beauty. It is a joy of life to which all women have the right
to prove. Only a kind of beauty is in a way equivalent to not
paying attention to nature. There can' t be a single bird song a
single kind of pine, a single kind of wolf. There can be no
one kind of child, male or female. There can be no single type
of chest, waist or skin. My experiences with the voluminous women of Mexico
led me to question a whole series of analytical premises about the different sizes and
shapes and, in particular, the weights of women. An ancient psychological premise
in particular, I felt grotesquely wrong about the idea that all voluminous women are
hungry for something, the idea according to which, within them there is a
thin person who is crying out to leave. When I read I commented on
this metaphor of the thin woman screaming at one of the majestic women of the
Tehuana tribe, she looked at me with a certain alarm. I was referring
perhaps to the possession of a bad spirit four who could have made an effort
to put such a bad thing inside a woman. He asked me not to
understand that healers or anyone else could think that a woman had inside a woman
screaming for the simple fact that she was naturally fat. Although compulsive and destructive
eating disorders that deform the size and image of the body are real and tragic,
they are not usually the norm in most women. Most likely, women
who are fat or thin, broad or narrow, tall or low, simply
because they inherited the colyficera or script under body ration from their family and,
if not from their immediate family, from members of one or two previous generations
despised judging negatively the physical aspect inherited from a woman is to create one generation
after another of distressed and neurotic women, to issue destructive and exclusive judgments about
the inherited form of a woman is to strip her of a whole series of
important and valuable treasures, psychological and spiritual. The dispossession of the pride of
the bodily type he has received from his ancestral lineage. If she is taught
to despise her body heritage, the woman will immediately feel deprived of her female
body identification with the rest of the family if they teach her to hate her
own body. How can you love your mother' s body, which has
the same configuration as your five, your grandmother' s and your daughters'?
How can you love the bodies of other women and other men close to
her who have inherited the body forms and configurations of their ancestors? Attacking a
woman in this way destroys her just pride in belonging to her own people and
deprives her of the natural and airy rhythm she feels in her body, whatever
its height, size or shape. Deep down, the and attack on women
' s bodies is a long- range attack that has preceded them and will
succeed them. Six. The severe comments about the acceptability of the body create
a nation of huddled high girls, short women, stilts, voluminous women,
dressed as mourning, very thin women, determined to swell like vipers and a
whole series of women in disguise. Destroying the instinctive cohesion of a woman with
her natural body, deprives her of her confidence prompts her to wonder whether or
not she is a good person and to base the value that she herself attributes
She hears not in who she is, but in what she seems. It
forces her to use her energy, to worry about the amount of food she
has eaten or the readings of the scale and measurements of the tape. It
forces her to worry and color everything she does, plans and waits in instinctive
mode. It is unthinkable for a woman to live worried about her appearance in
this way. It is absolutely logical for a woman to stay healthy and strong
and to seek to feed her body as best she can. Seven, but
I have no choice but to acknowledge that within many women there is a hungry
woman. However, rather than hungry for a certain size, shape or stature
or to fit a particular stereotype, women are hungry for a basic consideration from
the surrounding culture. The hungry inside is looking forward to being treated with respect,
to be accepted eight and, at least, to be welcomed without having
to fit into a stereotype. If there really is a woman who is crying
out, what she cries out for is to finish other people' s disrespectful
projections of her body, face, or age. The pathology of the variety
of female bodies is a deep- rooted prejudice shared by many psychology theorists and
certainly by Freud. In his work on his father Sigmund, for example,
Marnford explains that his whole family despised and ridiculed the thick nine. The motives
of Freud' s opinions go beyond the purpose of this work. However,
it is difficult to understand that such an attitude might correspond to a balanced view
of the female bodies. Suffice it to point out, however, that different
psychologists continue to convey this prejudice against the natural body and encourage women to constantly
control their body, thereby depriving them of better and deeper relationships with the form
they have received. The anguish about the body deprives the woman of much of
her creative life and prevents her from paying attention to other things. This invitation
sculpt the body. It is extremely similar to the task of banishing, burning
and removing the layers of flesh from the earth until left in the bones.
When there is a wound in the psyche and body of women, there is
a corresponding wound in the same place of culture and, ultimately, in nature
itself. In true holistic psychology, all worlds are considered interdependent, not separate
entities. It is no wonder that our culture raises the question of modeling the
natural body of women and raises the corresponding question of landscape modeling and also that
of some sectors of culture for their adaptation to fashion, even if it is
not in the hands of women, to prevent the dissection of culture and land
overnight, if it can avoid doing the same in its body. Wild nature
would never drown culture or earth by the torture of the body. Wild nature
would never agree to violate its form to demonstrate value, dominion and character,
or to be more visually pleasing or more valuable from an economic point of view.
A woman cannot get culture to gain more awareness by telling her to change,
but she can change her own attitude toward herself and make the respective projections
slip. This is achieved by recovering one' s own body, preserving the
joy of the natural body, rejecting the known chimera, according to which happiness
is only granted to those who possess a certain age configuration, acting decisively and
immediately, recovering the true life and living it to the full This dynamic self
- acceptance and self- esteem are the means by which one can begin to
change the attitudes of the culture of the body. In fairy tales there are
many myths and fairy tales that describe the weaknesses and wildness of the body.
We have the Greek, efesto, the crippled worker of precious metals, the
Mexican Hartar, that of the double body, Venus born of the foam of
the sea, the women of the giant mountain wooed by their strength, a
little thumb that can travel by magic, everywhere and many more. In the
few of fairy certain magical objects have powers of transport and perception that constitute very
successful metaphors of the body, such as the magic leaf. The magic carpet,
the cloud, Sometimes the layers, the shoes, the shields, the
hats and the helmets confer the power of invisibility, of a superior force,
of foresight, etcetera. They' re archetypal relatives. Each of them allows
the physical body to enjoy a greater insight, a finer ear, the ability
to fly or greater protection for the psyche and soul. Before the invention of
carriages, cars and carts, before the domestication of shooting and riding animals,
it seems that the element representing the sacred body was the magical object. Clothing,
amulets, talismans, and other objects, when used in a certain way,
carried the person across the river or the world. The magic carpet is
a splendid symbol of the sensory and psychic value of the natural body. The
fairy tales in which the element of the magic carpet appears are a remedy for
the attitude not too conscious of our culture with respect to the body. In
a first time, the magic carpet is considered an object without excessive value,
but when those who sit on its velvety surface tell you get up the carpet
shakes immediately, rises a little, stays in suspense in the air and then
flies away and moves your occupant to another place. Center point of view to
others, wisdom ten the body through its state of excitement, its consciousness and
its sensory experiences such as, for example, listening to music hear the voice
of a loved one or aspiring for the effluxes of a given aroma, has
the power to move us to another place. In fairy tales as in myths,
the carpet is a means of locomotion, but of a special kind,
of a kind that allows us to see the world inside and also the underground
life see in the tales of the Middle East. It is the vehicle used
by shamans in their spiritual flights. The body is not a mute object from
which we strive to get rid. Seen in its proper perspective. It is
a spaceship, a series of atomic clover leaves, a tangle of neurological navels
leading to other worlds and other experiences. Apart from the carpet, magic.
The body is also represented by other symbols. There' s a story in
which three appear It' s proposed to me. It is called simply the
tale of the magic carpet eleven, in the Sultan sends three brothers in search
of the most beautiful object on earth. One of the brothers who finds the
greatest treasure will gain a whole kingdom. A brother looks for and brings a
magic ivory wand through which you can see anything you want. Another brother brings
an apple whose aroma is capable of curing any ailment. The third brother brings
a magic carpet that can move anyone anywhere, just thinking about him. Well,
what' s the best thing the sultan asks? The power to see
what one wants the power to heal and restore or the power to fly the
spirit one by one. The brothers extol the objects they have found, but
in the end, the sultan raises his hand and sentence. None of them
is better than the other, for if one of them were missing, the
others would be useless and the Kingdom divided equally among the brothers. The story
is embedded in powerful images that allow us to glimpse the true vitality of the
body. This tale and others of the same style, describes the fabulous powers
of intuition, insight and sensory healing and also the self- absorbing of the
body. Twelve tend to think that the body is a kind of other body
that does its job in a way without our participation and that if we treat
it well, it will make us feel comfortable. Many people treat his body
as if it were his slave, or perhaps they treat him well, but
they demand that he fulfill his desires and whims as if, deep down,
he were his slave. Some say that the soul provides information to the body,
but imagine for a moment what would happen if the body provided information to
the soul, helped it adapt to material life, analyzed it, translated it,
provided it with a blank ink sheet and pen with which it could write
about our lives And yes, as in fairy tales of changing forms, the
body was a god in its own right, a teacher, a mentor,
an official guide, what would happen then? It is wise to spend your
whole life punishing this teacher who has so many things to give and teach.
We want to spend our whole lives letting others take away merit from our body,
judge it, and consider it defective. We are strong enough to reject
the shared telephone line and listen with real interest to what the body says,
as if it were a powerful and sacred being. Thirteen. The idea that
in our culture we have of the body as simple sculpture is wrong. The
body is not marble, it is not its purpose. Its purpose is to
protect, contain, support and ignite the spirit and soul that carries within it
to be a receiver of memory. Filling up with feeling, that' s
the ultimate psychic food, is rising up and propelling us? Fill ourselves with
feeling to show that we exist, that we are here to give us a
foundation, a strength and a weight. It is wrong to regard it as
a place we leave in order to rise up to the spirit. The body
is the promoter of these experiences. Without the body the sensations of crossing the
thresholds would not exist, neither the sensation of elevation nor the sensation of height
and weightlessness would exist. All that comes from the body. The body is
the rocket launch pad. In his capsule, the soul contemplates through the window
the mysterious starry night and the power of the hips is dazzled. What is
a healthy body in the instinctive world, at its most basic level, the
breast, the belly. Any place where there is skin any place where there
are neurons that transmit sensations. The question is not what form, what size,
what color, what age. If you feel something, it works the
way it has to work, we can react. We sense their range,
their sensory spectrum. He' s afraid, he' s paralyzed by pain
or fear. Anaesthetized by ancient traumas, or maybe he has his own music.
Listen how it goes there was through the belly and it' s looking
with its many ways of seeing. I was living at the age of twenty,
two decisive experiences, experiences contrary to everything I had been taught about the
body until then. During a week- long female concentration, I saw a
naked woman of about thirty- five years old at night on the side of
the fire, near the hot hot hot springs. Her breasts were flaxious from
both giving birth and her belly was surmounted with stretch marks caused by pregnancies.
I was very young and I remember feeling sorry for the aggressions suffered in her
beautiful and delicate skin. Someone was playing maracas and drums and she started dancing
as her hair, breasts, skin and limbs moved in different directions. How
beautiful it seemed to me to be full of life. His grace was touching.
I had always been fascinated by the expression fire in the English, but
I saw it that night I saw the power of his hips. I said
what I' d been taught to ignore. The power of a woman'
s body when it is animated within almost three decades later, I still seem
to see her dance at night and I' m still impressed by the power
of her body. My second awakening featured a much older woman. Their wide
hips were pear shaped, their breasts were very small compared to them. Her
thighs were covered by thin purple veins and a long scar from severe surgery.
He was surrounded by the body from the rib cage to the green column,
which, if it were a circular groove like those made when peeling an apple,
the contour of his waist should be more than a metre. A character
of Greek mythology who helped to plunge into the eusis when the goddess was looking
for her daughter persephone all over the world n tea At that time it seemed
to me a mystery that men buzzed around her as if she were a honeycomb.
They wanted to give a bite to their bulky thighs, they wanted to
lick the scar, hold his chest in their hands, lean his cheeks over
his veins in the form of spiders. His smile was dazzling, his walks
were beautiful and when he looked at his eyes they really captured what they saw.
Then I saw for the second time what I had been taught to ignore
the power in the body. The cultural power of the body is its beauty,
but the power in the body is extremely unusual, for almost all people
have taken it away from themselves with the tortures they subject to in the flesh
or with the shame it brings them. Under this light, the wild woman
can inquire into the numinosity of her own body, understand it and see it,
not as a weight that we are obliged to bear throughout life, not
as a beast of spoiled or uncared cargo that leads us through life, but
as a series of doors, dreams and poems through which we can learn and
know all sorts of things. In the wild psyche, the body is considered
to be a full being, a being who loves us and who depends on
us and for whom we are sometimes a mother, while at other times he
is a mother to us the butterfly. To talk about the power of the
body. Otherwise, I have to tell an authentic and quite long story.
By the way, for many years tourists have crossed in tropel, the great
American desert, touring in haste, the so- called spiritual circuit, the
Monument Valley, the Chaco Canyon, the Green Callent Table, the Keams Canyon,
the Dasser Paintet and the Chelly Canyon take a hasty look at the pelvis
of the great Mother Canyon. They shake their heads, shrug their shoulders and
run home for the next summer to cross the desert again, look, look
and watch a little lower. This behavior underlies the same hunger for numinous experience
that humans have experienced since time immemorial. But sometimes this hunger is exacerbated,
as many people have lost their fourteen ancestors often only know the names of their
grandparents. They have lost, in particular the family accounts. From a spiritual
point of view, this situation produces sadness and hunger. Many try to recreate
something important for the sake of their soul. For years, tourists have come.
I also supported a huge, dusty table that lies in the center of
a depopulated former New Mexico. There, the anasaz the ancients called each other
Antaño through the tables say that a prehistoric sea wrought thousands of gritty and grumbling
smiles, eyes and mouths on the rocky walls From that place, the dien
Abajos, the Apaches, Jicarilla, the southern yuts, the Opis, the
Zunis, the Santa Clara, the Santo Domingo, the Laguna, the Picuris
and the Tezuque all these tribes of the desert gather in that place and dance
to recover the past and to become again the pines that are used to build
the stakes of the huts, in the deer, in the eagles and casins,
in all the powerful spirits, and there come visitors, many of them
hungry of their genomites and separated from their spiritual pleasure, have also forgotten their
ancient gods. They come to contemplate those who have not forgotten them. The
road up to Pollé was built for horse helmets and mocacines, but over time,
the cars gained more strength and now the inhabitants of the area and visitors
come in all sorts of convertible cars and vans. Vehicles groan and smoke down
the slope in a slow, dusty parade. All of them park the good
of God in the stony hills. At noon on the edge of the table,
it seems that there has been a collision, in chain of thousands of
cars, some park next to malvarrosas of metro eighty of height, thinking that
to get off their vehicles it will be enough to push the plants. But
the one- hundred- year- old malevolent are like old iron women.
Those who park next to them get trapped inside their cars. At noon,
the sun turns the place into a suffocating furnace. They all walk with their
overheated shoes loaded with umbrellas. In case it rains it will rain folding aluminum
chairs. In case they get tired, they' ll get tired. If
you' re visitors, maybe with a camera, if you' re allowed
to use it and a bunch of film reels hanging around your neck like garlic
curls. Visitors come there waiting for a thousand different things from ten sacred to
profane. Come and see something that not everyone will be able to see.
One of the most early things is that there is a living numen, the
butterfly. The last event of the day is the Mariposa dance. Everyone is
looking forward to this one- person dance being played by a woman, but
what a woman. When the sun begins to set, a glowing old man
appears in a twenty- pound ceremony turquoise suit, with loudspeakers squeaking like chickens
frightened by the presence of a hawk whispering against the chrome microphone of the 1930s
and our next dance will be the Mariposa dance. Then he walks away by
squeezing and stepping on the hem of his jeans. Unlike a ballet show in
which, as soon as the piece is announced, the curtain rises and the
dancers go out to the party there in Poullé, as in other tribal dances,
after the announcement of the dance, the performer may take from twenty minutes
to an eternity. Where are the artists fixing their caravan? Perhaps temperatures of
more than forty degrees are common and, therefore, last- minute tweaks have
to be made in sweat- covered body paint. If a dance belt that
belonged to the dancer' s grandfather broke his way, he wouldn' t
show up, because the spirit of the belt would have to rest. The
performers may be late because Kit Carson' s ttaos Kitt radio is broadcasting a
good song in the Indian hour of Tony and Lujan. Sometimes a dancer doesn
' t hear the speaker and has to be warned by a walking messenger.
And besides, the dancer always has to talk to his relatives while heading to
the place where he acts. There you stop without fail so your nephews and
nieces can take a good look at you. How impressed the children are to
see a gigantic Casina spirit that looks suspiciously a little bit like Uncle Tomás or
a corn dancer who looks a lot like Aunt Yassi. Finally, there is
the possibility that the dancer is still on the Tezuke highway, with his legs
hanging above the lime one of a delivery forgion whose black- toned silencer the
air along two kilometers, while the wind blows face during the thrilling wait of
the Butterfly dance. Everyone talks about the Mariposa maidens and the beauty of the
sun girls who danced in an old black and red outfit that left one shoulder
in the air and painted intense pink circles on their cheeks also wash the young
deer dancers who danced with pine branches tied to their arms and legs. Time
passes, time passes and passes. People tink the coins in their pockets,
emit a cysseus by sucking air through their teeth. Visitors are eager to see
the wonderful butterfly dancer unexpectedly when everyone frowns as a sign of boredom, the
drummers raise their arms and begin to play the rhythm of the Holy Butterfly and
the singers begin to cry out to the gods to intervene. Visitors, who
dream of the fragile beauty of a delicate butterfly, experience an inevitable shock when
they see María Luján jump XV It is fat, decidedly fat, like the
Venus of Willendor as the mother of the days, like the woman of heroic
proportions that Diego Rivera painted, which built Mexico City with a single break of
the wrist. And besides, Maria Luján is old, very old, as
if she had returned from the dust. As old as the old river and
as old pine trees. What grows on the edge of the forest carries one
shoulder in the air. Her black and red blanket jumps up and down with
her inside her heavy body and her bony legs give her the look of a
spider that jumps wrapped in a tamale, jumps on one foot and then on
the other. Shake your fan of feathers back and forth. It is the
Butterfly that comes to strengthen the weak. He is someone whom almost everyone would
consider weak by age, by representing a butterfly, by being a woman.
The butterfly maiden' s hair reaches the ground. It is grey, stone
and as abundant as ten sheaves of corn and looks. Butterfly wings like the
ones children wear in school theatrical performances. Their hips are like two tremuli,
these thirty kilos of capacity and the fleshy retreat from the top of their buttocks
is wide enough for two children to feel in them. Jump, jump and
jump, but not like a rabbit, but with footsteps that leave echoes.
I' m here, here? Here? I' m here, here?
Here? Wake up everyone, everyone. Shake his fan of feathers up
and down, pouring on the earth and on the people of the earth the
pollinating spirit of the Butterfly. Its mollusk shell bracelets sound like the rattles of
a snake and its leagues, adorned with bells, tint like rain the shadow
of its voluminous belly and its thin legs dance from one side of the circle.
His feet lift behind his back a few small dusts. The tribes participate
with a reverend attitude, but some visitors look at each other and murmur that
' s it, that' s the Butterfly Maiden. They are bewildered and
some even disappointed. It seems that they no longer remember that the spiritual world
is a place where the wolves are women, the bears are husbands and the
old ones of considerable dimensions are butterflies. Yes, it is good that the
wild butterfly woman is old and fat, as she carries the world of storms
in one chest and the underground world in the other. His back is the
curve of the planet. Earth with all its crops, its food and its
animals. His neck holds the dawn and the sunset. His left thigh contains
all the stakes of the Indian huts. His right thigh contains all the wolves
in the world. His womb contains all the children who will be born in
the world. The butterfly maiden is the female fertiliser force, transporting the pollen
from one place to another. Fertilization with used cross fertilization such as the soul
fertilizes the mind with night dreams and, just as archetypes fertilize the material world,
she is the center unites the opposites, taking a little from here and
putting it there. The transformation is that simple. That' s what she
teaches. That' s what the butterfly does. That' s what the
soul does. The butterfly corrects the erroneous idea that the transformation is intended only
for the tormented, the saints or the extremely strong. The self does not
need to transport mountains to transform itself. A little is enough. A little
for a lot. The pollination force replaces the movement of the mountains. The
butterfly maiden pollinates the souls of the earth. It' s easier than you
think it says. Shake his fan of feathers and jump, for he pouring
even the spiritual pollen over all present, the native Americans, the small children,
the visitors, everyone uses his whole body as a blessing, his old,
fragile, voluminous, pathetic, short neck and stained body. This is
the woman united to her wild nature, the translator of the instinctive, the
fertilizing force, the repairer, the reminder of ancient ideas. It' s
the mythological voice. It' s the personification of the wild woman. The
butterfly dancer has to be old because she represents the soul. It' s
old. It' s wide in thighs and wide in ass because it carries
a lot of things. His gray hair attests that he no longer needs to
respect taboos that prevent people from touching. It is authorized to touch everyone,
boys, boys, women, girls, the old, the sick, the
dead. The butterfly woman can touch the whole inundation. He has the privilege
of finally touching everyone. This is his power. His body is that of
the butterfly. The body is like the earth. It is a land in
itself and is as vulnerable to the excess of buildings as any landscape, because
it is also divided into plots, isolated, planted with mines and deprived of
its power. It is not easy to reconvert the wild woman through remodeling plans.
For her, the most important thing is not how to form, but
how to feel. Chest. In all its forms it develops the function of
feeling and feeding, feeding feels is a good chest. The hips are wide
and rightly so, as they carry within them a satin ivory crib for the
new life. A woman' s hips are killers for the upper and lower
body. They' re porticoes. They are a fluffy cushion, grips of
love, a place behind which children can hide. The legs are meant to
carry us and sometimes to propel us. It' s the pulleys that help
us lift up. They' re a ring to surround the lover. It
can' t be too much of this or too much of that. They
' re what they are in bodies. There is no one has to be
the important thing, it is not the size, the shape or the years
and not even the fact of having a couple of everything, because some do
not have it the important from the wild point of view is if the body
feels, if it has a good connection, with pleasure, with the heart,
with the soul, with the wild, it is happy, if it
is cheerful, it can move in its way, dance, wobble, swing,
push is the only thing that matters. When I was little, they
took me to visit the Museum of Natural History in Chicago. There I saw
Malvina Hoffman' s sculptures, dozens of life- size dark bronze sculptures,
gathered in a spacious room. The artist had sculpted with wild vision generally naked
bodies of people from all over the world. She poured her love over the
hunter' s injuta calf, the mother' s long breasts with two older
children, the flesh cones of the virgin' s chest, the old man
' s balls hanging up to half a thigh, the nose with windows bigger
than the eyes, the nose curved like the beak of a hawk, the
nose as a right angle. He had fallen in love with the ears as
big as traffic lights and with the ears that almost reached the chin and those
that were as small as pecans. He loved each of the hairs curled like
the baskets of snakes and each of the hair wavy like ribbons that unfolded or
the hair smooth with grass. I felt the wild love of the body.
He understood the power in the body. Do loo sanje Speaks in his work
of for the colored girls who have thought of suicide when the rainbow sixteen is
enough. In the work the woman of purple speaks after having tried with all
her might to assume all the psychic and physical aspects of her person, which
culture ignores or despises and summarizes itself. In these wise and serene words.
That' s what I have poems, big thighs, little tits, and
a lot of love. This is the power of the body, our power,
the power of the wild woman. In fairy tales and myths, divinities
and other great spirits test the hearts of human beings, appearing in different forms
that conceal their divinity. They are presented with drab robes or silver girdles or
with feet covered in clay They are presented with the skin as dark as the
old wood or with scales made of rose petals, with or peccas as fragile
as that of children, as that of an old woman as yellow, as
the limes, as a man who cannot speak or as an animal who speaks.
Great powers test humans to find out if they have already learned to recognize
the greatness of the soul in all its many forms. The wild woman presents
herself with many sizes, colors, shapes and conditions. We must remain attentive
in order to recognize the wild soul in all its many disguises. Eight parts
are conservation instincts, identification of traps, cages and poisoned baits. The fierce
woman. According to the dictionary, the word feres comes from Latin, whose
meaning is wild animal. In the common language it is understood to be a
wild animal that was once wild and subsequently domesticexeis that has once again returned to
the natural or indomitable state. I affirm that the fierce woman is the one
who once found herself in a natural psychic state, that is, in her
wild sound mind, and who was later caught by some turn of events,
thus becoming an exaggeratedly domesticated creature and with the natural instincts numbed. When he
has the opportunity to return to his original wild nature, he easily falls into
all sorts of traps and is the victim of all kinds of poisons, since
his cycles and protection systems have been altered. He is in danger of being
in what was once his natural wild state, he has lost the caution and
ability to remain alert and thus easily becomes a prey. The loss of instinct
follows a very concrete pattern. It is important to study this pattern and even
learn it from memory in order to preserve the treasures of our basic nature as
well as that of our daughters. In psychic forests there are many rusty iron
traps hidden under the green psychological soil leaves. Lament is the same in the
material world. We can be the victim of various deceptions. Relationships between people
and risky companies are tempting, but inside a nice- looking bait hides something
very sharp, something that kills our spirit as soon as we bite it.
Feral women of all ages, especially young women, experience a tremendous impulse to
make up for the long famines and long exiles. They are at risk because
of their excessive and reckless desire to approach people and achieve goals that are not
food, solid or durable. Whatever the place they live or the moment they
live in, there are always cages waiting, too small lives to which women
can feel attracted or pushed. If it has ever been captured, if it
has ever suffered soul hunger, if you have ever been caught and, above
all, if you experience the urge to create something not sr it is very
likely that you have been or are a fierce woman. The fierce woman is
often very hungry for spiritual things and often swallows any venom stuck at the end
of a pointed stick thinking that it is what her soul craves. Although some
wild women turn away from the traps at the last moment and only suffer from
some of the other small flaws in the fur, many more fall into them
inadvertently and momentarily lose consciousness, while others are shattered and others manage to free
themselves and crawl to a cave to be able to lick the wounds alone,
to avoid the frosts and temptations that confront a woman who has spent a long
time captured and hungry having to be able to see them in advance and dodge
them. We have to rebuild our insight and our caution. We have to
learn how to turn. We have to distinguish the right turns and the wrong
ones. There is something that, in my opinion, is a vestige of
an old tale of old women of didactic character that exposes the pure, the
situation in which the fierce and starving woman finds herself. It is known with
different titles, such as the demon' s dance shoes, the demon'
s hot shoes and red slippers. Hans Kristian Andersen wrote his version of this
old tale and gave it the title cited. Thirdly, as a true narrator,
he wrapped the heart of the story with his own ethnic ingenuity and his
own sensitivity. The next version of the red sneakers is the germanomajiar that my
aunt Teresa used to tell us when we were little and that I use here
with her blessing, with her usual skill. My aunt always started the story
with the phrase Look closely at your shoes, and thank you that they are
so simple, because one has to live very carefully when wearing shoes too red,
the red shoes. Once upon a time there was a poor little orphan
who had no shoes, but she always picked up the vice rags she found
and eventually cooked a pair of red slippers, although they were very rough.
She liked them made her feel rich, even though she spent the days collecting
something to eat in the woods full of thorns. Until well into the evening,
but one day as he went down the road with his rags and red
slippers. A golden carriage stopped by his side. The old lady, traveling
inside, told her that she was going to take her home and treat her
as if she were her little girl. So the girl went to the house
of the wealthy old woman and there she was washed and her hair combed.
They provided her with pure white underwear, a beautiful wool dress, white stockings
and shiny black shoes. When the girl asked about her clothes and, above
all, about her red slippers, the old woman replied that the clothes were
so dirty and the shoes were so rich that she had thrown them into the
fire, where they had burned to ashes. The girl became very sad,
for despite the immense wealth that surrounded her. The humble red slippers cooked with
his own hands had made him experience his greatest happiness. Now she was forced
to sit all the time, walk without skating, not talk unless she was
told the word, but a secret fire burned in her heart and she kept
missing her old red sneakers over anything else. When the girl reached enough age
to receive confirmation on the day of the innocent saints, the old woman took
her to an old lame shoemaker to make her special shoes for the occasion.
In the shoemaker' s window there were some red shoes made with leather of
the best were so beautiful that they almost glowed. So, even if the
shoes were not appropriate to go to church, the girl only chose to follow
the desires of her hungry heart, she turned the red shoes. The old
woman had such a bad view that she did not see what color the shoes
were and therefore paid the price. The vice shoemaker winked at the girl and
wrapped her shoes. The next day, the church parishioners were amazed to see
the girl’ s feet. The red shoes shone like polished apples, like
hearts, like red plums. Everyone looked at them to the cones of the
wall to the images. They looked at the shoes with a reprehensible expression,
but the more they looked at people the more the girl liked them. Therefore,
when the priest sang the songs and when the choir accompanied him and the
organ began to ring, the girl thought there was nothing more beautiful than her
red shoes. By the time that day was over, someone had informed the
old woman about her protégé' s red shoes, never the ever.“
You put those red shoes back on,” the old lady said in a
threatening tone. But the next Sunday the girl could not resist the temptation to
put on red shoes instead of blacks and went to church with the old woman
as usual. At the entrance of the church was an old soldier with his
arm in a sling. She wore a little jacket and had a red beard.
He bowed and asked permission to remove the dust from the girl' s
shoes. The girl stretched her foot and the soldier hit the soles of her
shoes while singing a cheerful little song that tickled her on the soles of her
feet.“ Don’ t forget to stay for the dance,” the
soldier said, winking at his eye with a smile. Everyone glanced back at
the girl' s red shoes, but she liked those shoes as bright as
crimson, as bright as raspberries and grenades, which she could hardly think of
anything else and hardly paid attention to the ceremony. A rellingosa so busy was
moving her feet here and there and admiring her red shoes that she forgot to
sing. When he left the church in the company of the old woman,
the wounded soldier yelled at her what beautiful dance shoes. Her words made the
child immediately start to spin. As soon as her feet began to move,
they could no longer stop and the girl danced among the flower arriates and folded
the corner of the church as if she had completely lost control of herself.
He danced a gavota and then a xarda and finally walked away dancing a waltz
through the fields. On the other side, the old lady' s coachman
jumped out of the carriage and ran. After her she gave her reach and
took the car back, but the girl' s feet shoes with red shoes
kept dancing in the air as if they were still on the ground. The
old lady and the coachman threw and struggled trying to take the girl' s
ros shoes off. What a spectacle, they with crooked hats and the girl
waving their legs, but in the end the girl' s feet calmed down.
Back home. The old lady left the red shoes on a very high
shelf and ordered the girl not to touch them anymore, but the girl could
not help but contemplate them with longing for her they were still the most beautiful
thing on earth. Soon after, she wanted the old woman to have to
keep a bed and as soon as the doctors left, the girl sneaked into
the room where the red shoes were kept, she looked at them up there
at the top of the shelf. Her gaze became penetrating and became a burning
desire that led her to take the shoes off the shelf and put them on,
thinking there was nothing wrong with it. However, as soon as the
shoes touched her heels and toes, the girl felt overwhelmed by the urge to
dance. He crossed the door dancing and lowered the steps dancing, first a
gavota, then a xarda and finally a waltz of daring laps In quick succession,
the girl was in glory and did not understand in what hurry situation she
was in until she wanted to dance to the left and the shoes insisted on
dancing to the right when she wanted to turn the shoes were determined to dance
directly forward and while the shoes danced with the girl. Instead of being the
girl who danced with her shoes, the shoes took her down the street,
crossing the muddy fields until she reached the dark and gloomy forest. There,
leaning against a tree, was the old soldier with the red beard with his
jacket and his arm in sling go what beautiful dance shoes exclaimed. Scared,
the girl tried to take off her shoes, but the foot she kept leaning
on the floor kept dancing enthusiastically and the one she was holding in her hand
also took part in the dance. So the girl danced and danced without ceasing
to dance and climbed the highest hills, crossed the valleys in the rain,
snow, and sun. He danced on the dark night and at dawn and
was still dancing when it was dark, but it wasn' t a pretty
dance. It was a terrible dance, for there was no rest for her.
He came dancing to a cemetery and there a hideous spirit did not allow
him to enter. The spirit uttered the following words. You will dance in
your red shoes until you become an apparition, a ghost, until the skin
hangs from your bones and until there is nothing left of you but some dancing
entrails. You will dance, tea door to door through the villages and knock
each door three times and when people look they will see you and fear suffering
your own destiny. Dance red shoes keep dancing. The girl asked for compassion,
but before she could continue begging for mercy, the red shoes took her
away. He danced over the brizales and rivers, continued dancing over the living
hedges and continued dancing and dancing until he came home and there he saw people
crying. The old woman who had taken her home had died, but she
kept dancing because she had no choice but to. Deeply exhausted and horrified,
she came dancing in a forest where the executioner of the city lived. The
axe on the wall began to shudder as soon as it perceived the girl'
s closeness. Please, the child begged the executioner by dancing in front of
his door. Please cut my shoes to rid me of this horrible fate.
The executioner cut the straps of the red shoes with the axe, but the
shoes were still on the feet. Then the girl told the executioner that his
life was worthless and that please cut off his feet. And the executioner reads
he cut off his feet and red shoes with his feet. Inside they kept
dancing through the forest, went up the hill and lost sight. And the
girl, turned into a poor cripple, had to make a living in the
world as a maid to other people and never in her life did she wish
for red shoes again. The brutal loss in fairy tales is more than reasonable
to wonder why the presence of such brutal episodes in fairy tales. It is
a phenomenon that is recorded in myths and folklore around the world. The monstrous
conclusion of this tale is typical of the finals of the fairy tales, whose
spiritual protagonist cannot complete the transformation he intended psychologically. The brutal episode conveys a
pressing psychic truth. This truth is so compelling and yet so easy to disdain
with a simple sound. Well, I understand that by doing so, the
person goes directly to his or her sentence, that we are not likely to
pay attention to the alarm if it is expressed in softer terms. In the
modern technological world. The brutal episodes of fairy tales have been replaced by images
from television ads such as those showing a familiar snapshot in which one of the
family members has been erased and a trail of blood on the photograph underscores what
happens when a person drives in a state of intoxication. Or those ads that
try to dissuade people from using illegal drugs in which an egg frying in a
frying pan reveals what happens in the human brain when one uses drugs. The
brutal element is an ancient way to get him. I am emotional, pay
attention to a very serious message. The psychological truth contained in the story of
red sneakers is that a woman can be torn off, tested and threatened with
her most significant life or can be removed from her by means of hass goss
a. Not to be preserved or restored to its basic joy and its wild
value. The story invites us to pay attention to the traps and poisons that
we easily stumble upon when we are hungry for a wild soul. If not
the firm participation in wild nature, a woman starves and falls into the obsession
of those I feel better. Leave me alone and love me. Please,
When you starve, the woman accepts any substitute offered to you, including those
who, like useless placebos, are of absolutely no use to you, and
those who are destructive threaten your life and make you pitifully waste your time and
qualities or expose your life to physical dangers. The hunger of the soul induces
the woman to choose things that will make her dance madly and unchecked until finally
reaching the House of the Executioner. Therefore, in order to understand this story
more deeply, we have to realize that a woman can totally stray the way
when she loses her life in soulful and savage. To preserve what we have
and find again the path of the female savage, we need to know what
mistakes a woman who feels so trapped makes. Then we can go back and
repair the damage. Then the meeting may take place. As we will see,
the loss of hand made red slippers represents the loss of a woman'
s personally designed life and passionate vitality, as well as the acceptance of an
overly domesticated existence, which leads in the long run to the loss of a
faithful perception that in turn causes the excesses that lead to the loss of feet.
The platform that sustains our base a very deep part of the instinctive nature
that sustains our freedom. The red slippers show us how the deterioration begins and
to what state we reduce ourselves if we do not intervene in the name of
our own wild nature. Let us not deceive ourselves when a woman is a
force to intervene and fight against her own demon, whatever this is, her
effort, is one of the most worthy battles that can be undertaken, both
from the archetypal point of view and from the perspective of consensual reality. Although
the woman could reach, as in the tale, to the bottom of the
greatest abyss through hunger, capture, wounded instinct, destructive choices and everything else.
The background is the place that houses the roots of the psyche. There
are the woman' s savage props. The bottom is the best ground to
sow and re- cultivate something new. In this sense, reaching the bottom,
even if it is extremely painful, is also reaching the farmland. Although
for nothing in the world we would wish for the curse of the harmful red
shoes and the consequent decrease of life, neither for us nor for others there
is in this fiery and destructive essence something that combines vehemence with wisdom in the
woman who has lost herself cursed and lost her creative life, who has rushed
to hell with a cheap or expensive handbag and who, however, has held
on to a word, a thought, an idea, until, through a
creek she was able to escape in time from her demon and live to tell
it. Therefore, the woman who has lost control, dancing, who has
lost her balance and has lost her feet and understands the state of deprivation referred
to at the end of the fairy tale, possesses a valuable and special wisdom
is like a zaguaro, a splendid and beautiful cactus living in the desert.
Watermen can be filled with bullet holes, incisions can be practiced, they can
be knocked down and trampled on and they continue to live, they continue to
store the water that gives life, they continue to grow wild. Over time
they heal, those of fairies end at the end of ten pages. But
our lives are not collections of various volumes in our lives. Although one episode
amounts to a collision and a burn, there is always another episode that awaits
us and then another. There are always opportunities to fix it, to shape
our lives the way we deserve. Don' t waste your time hating failure.
Failure is a better teacher than success. Pay attention, learn and move
on. That' s what we' re doing with this story. We
' re paying attention to your old message. We are learning what the harmful
guidelines are to be able to go forward with the strength of who can sense
the traps, cages and baits before falling into them or being caught by them.
Let' s start unraveling this important story by understanding what happens when the
vital existence that we cherish most, regardless of what others think of it,
the life that we love most loses its value and turns to ashes the handmade
red slippers in the moment we see that the girl loses the red slippers that
she had made, those that made her feel rich in her own way.
He was poor, but he had wits. He was looking for his way.
He had gone from having no shoes to possessing shoes that gave him a
sense of the soul. Despite the difficulties of his material life. Handmade sneakers
are signs of overcoming a meager psychic existence and of the passage to a passionate
life designed by herself. The slippers literally represent a huge step towards integrating the
ingenious feminine nature into everyday life. No matter how imperfect your life is,
it has joy, it will evolve in fairy tales. The typical poor but
ingenious character is a psychological representation of the one who is rich in spirit and
gradually acquires more awareness and more power over a long period of time. You
could say that this character is the exact symbol of all of us, because
we all make slow but safe progress from a social point of view, footwear
sends a message and is a way to differentiate one type of person from another.
Artists often wear shoes very different from those worn, for example, by
engineers. Shoes can tell us something about who we are and even sometimes about
what we aspire to do with the person we are testing. The archetypal symbolism
of the shoe dates back to a very old time, when shoes will be
a sign of authority. The rulers used them, while the slaves went barefoot.
Even today, a large part of the modern world is taught to make
uncompromising judgments about a person’ s intelligence and abilities, whether or not he
wears shoes or whether or not he has money to wear them. This version
of the story is born of having lived in the cold countries of the North,
where shoes are considered a means of survival. Keeping your feet dry and
warm helps a person live when the weather is very cold and unpacable. I
remember hearing him tell my aunt that stealing a person' s only pair of
shoes in winter was as serious a crime as murder. The creative and passionate
nature of a woman runs the same risk if she does not retain her capacity
for development and joy, which are her warmth and protection. The symbol of
shoes can be considered a psychological metaphor protect and defend those upon which we settle
our feet in archetypal symbolism. The feet represent mobility and freedom. In this
sense, having shoes to cover your feet is to be convinced of our beliefs
and have the means to act in accordance with them. Without scos shoes,
a woman cannot overcome the interior and exterior environments that demand acuity, wisdom,
prudence and endurance. Life and sacrifice always go hand in hand. Red is
the color of life and sacrifice. To live a vibrant existence, we have
to make sacrifices of different kinds. If anyone wants to go to college,
he has to sacrifice time and money and dedicate himself in body and soul to
this endeavor. If you want to create something, you have to sacrifice the
superficiality, a certain security and often the desire to please others and to straighten
out their deepest ideas and visions of greater scope. Problems arise when many sacrifices
are made, but no life springs from them at all. So red is
the color of blood loss, more than the life of blood. That'
s exactly what happens in the story when the girl' s hand- made
red shoe burns. One loses a kind of vibrant and beloved red, which
triggers a longing, an obsession and, finally, a fondness for another kind
of red, that of the vulgar rapidly breaking emotions, that of soulless sex,
which leads to a life without meaning. Therefore, considering all aspects of
the fairy tale, as the components of the psyche of a single woman see
those who, making themselves the red slippers, the girl carries out an extraordinary
feat, leads her life from the condition of a slave without shoes, simply
following her path with the view forward, without looking either right or left,
to a consciousness that stops to create, that contemplates beauty and experiences joy,
that feels passion and satiety and all the other things that constitute the integral nature
that we call wild. The fact that the shoes are red reveals that the
pro process will be vibrant living, which includes sacrifice and it is just and
natural that so be. The fact that the slippers are handmade with pieces of
cloth means that the girl symbolizes the creative spirit that, being orphaned and ignorant
for whatever reasons, has gathered all these things for use, using her innate
perception to finally achieve a beautiful and spiritual result. If it' s good,
he' ll be left alone. The situation of the creative self would
continue to progress without problems in that the girl is delighted with her work and
with her ability to do it, all alone seeking and gathering things with patience,
designing and spreading the pieces to express her ideas with them. It doesn
' t matter that at first the product is very rough. Many gods of
creation of all cultures and all ages do not create perfectly the first time,
the first attempt always admits improvements and also the second and often the third and
fourth. That has nothing to do with one' s own worth and ability.
It is the life that evokes and evolves. If the girl is left
alone, this will be another pair of red slippers and another and another.
Until they' re not so rough, he' ll make progress. However,
apart from her prodigious display of ingenuity to move forward in difficult circumstances,
the most important thing for her is that the shoes that have been made bring
her enormous joy. And joy is the blood of life, food, spirit
and soul life, all in one piece. Joy is the kind of feeling
a woman experiences when she puts a few words in writing. So, without
more or when he gets to play a few notes to the first which emotion
so big seems incredible. It is the kind of feeling a woman experiences when
she discovers that she is pregnant and wishes to be pregnant. It' s
the kind of joy you feel when you see the people you love enjoying.
It is the kind of joy she feels when she has done something that haunted
her, that obsessed her, that was dangerous, that had forced her to
strive and to improve in order to achieve success, perhaps with grace or perhaps
without it. But the important thing is that he managed to create something.
Even someone the art the battle the moment his life. This is the natural
and instinctive state of the woman. The essence of the wild woman radiates through
this kind of joy. This kind of spiritual situation calls it by name,
but in the tale he wanted the fate that one day in direct opposition to
the simple red slippers made with pieces of cloth. The shoes that were the
pure joy of life, would squeal a golden carriage and enter the life of
the girl. The traps trap one, the golden chariot, the devalued life.
In archetypal symbolism, the carriage is a literal image, a vehicle that
moves something from one place to another. In modern sound images and in contemporary
folklore it has been replaced in large part by the car that, from an
archetypal point of view, sounds In the same way, this type of vehicle
that transports has traditionally been considered the central mood of the psyche that transports us
from one place of the psyche to another and from one effort to another.
The fact of getting into the golden carriage of the old lady is similar in
this case to the fact of entering a golden classroom that would theoretically have to
be more comfortable and pleasant, but that is actually a prison, a prison
that traps in a way that is not immediately perceptible, since everything golden tends
to dazzle at first. Let us imagine, therefore, that we go down
the path of our lives with our precious handmade sneakers and suddenly we think of
it. Thinking about something like that might be better Another thing, something that
wasn' t so difficult that it required less time, energy, and effort.
It' s something that usually happens in women' s lives. We
find ourselves in the midst of something that gives us a feeling that can vary
from the pleasant to the unpleasant. We create our lives as we move forward
and do the best we can, but very soon we come up with something,
something that says that' s very hard. Look how beautiful that is
or that there seems easier, more pleasant, more attractive. Suddenly the golden
carriage approaches, the portezuela opens, the ladders spread and we have been seduced.
This temptation often occurs very often and sometimes on a daily basis. On
many occasions it is difficult to say otherwise. We marry the wrong person because
it makes our economic life easier. We abandoned the work we were doing and
returned to another easier, but more trite, which we have been dragging for
ten years, we did not try to get that excellent poem to the best
possible level, but rather to leave it in the third draft instead of trying
a little harder. The spectacle of the golden carriage overshadows the sheer joy of
the red slippers, although this circumstance could also be interpreted as a search for
goods and material comforts on the part of the woman. It is often the
expression of a simple psychological desire not to have to work so hard on the
basic issues of creative life, desire to have everything easier. It' s
not a trap. It is something the ego aspires to, naturally, ah
but at what price the price is a trap. The trap arises when the
girl is going to live with the wealthy old woman. There you have to
remain silent. As God commands. It is not allowed to crave anything openly
and, in particular, the longing cannot be satisfied. That is the beginning
of hunger of the year for the creative spirit. Classical Jundian psychology points out
that the loss of the soul occurs in particular in the middle of life,
about thirty- five years or something later. However, for women of modern
culture, loss of soul is a daily danger, whether one is eighteen years
old or eighty, whether married or not, regardless of family, education or
economic status. Many educated people smile with indulgence when they hear that primitive peoples
have an endless list of experiences and events that, according to them, can
steal their souls from seeing a use in a wrong time of year to entering
a house that has not yet received the blessing after a death had occurred in
it. Although modern culture contains many prodigious elements that enrich life, there are
in a single block of bearier houses at wrong times and more places of unblessed
death than in a thousand square kilometers of land inhabited by primitive populations. The
essential psychic fact that we must constantly monitor our relationship with meaning, passion,
spirituality and deep nature. There are a lot of things that try to pull
us away from handmade sneakers, seemingly simple things, like saying, for example,
I' ll already dance, plant, hug, search, plan,
learn, make peace, I' ll clean up later. That' s
all cheating, trap two. The old woman resects the strength of cenescence in
the interpretation of dreams and fairy tales. Whoever possesses the attitude transmitter, that
is, the golden carriage, is the main value that weighs on the psyche,
pushing it forward, forcing it to follow the direction that interests him.
In this case, the values of the old lady, owner of the carriage,
begin to push the psyche. In the classic jundian ecology tapes. The
archetypal figure of the elder is sometimes called the zenex force. In Latin Zenex
means old. More specifically and without distinction of sexes, the symbol of the
elderly can be interpreted as the cenescent force, a force that acts in the
form that is proper to the elderly. One in fairy tales, this cenescent
force is symbolized by an elderly person who is often represented in an unbalanced way,
to imply that the person' s psychic process is also developing an unbalanced
behavior. Ideally, an old woman symbolizes her dignity, the ability to counsel,
wisdom, the knowledge of one' s own person, tradition, the
definition of boundaries and experience with a good dose of ill- tempered, envious,
sluggish and flirtatious flamboyantness to round up the thing. However, when the
old lady in a fairy tale uses these negative SNS attributes, as in the
red sneakers, we are warned beforehand that certain aspects of the psyche that should
be kept warm, are about to freeze over time. Something that is normally
vibrant inside the psyche is about to be rigidly flattened, to receive a whipping
and to be distorted to the point of being unrecognizable. When the girl climbs
into the old lady' s golden carriage and then enters her home, she
is trapped with as much certainty as if she had deliberately put her hand into
a trap, as we see in the story. The fact of being welcomed
by the elderly rather than dignifying the new attitude, causes the senescent attitude to
destroy innovation. Instead of becoming her protégé' s mentor, the old lady
will try to calcify her. The old lady in this story is not a
wise one, but rather she is dedicated to repeating a single value without experiencing
anything, nothing new. Throughout all the scenes of the Church we see that
the only value that is taken into account is that the opinion of the collectivity
is more important than anything else, already to eclipse the needs of the individual
wild soul. It is often considered a collective culture two that surrounds an individual,
which is indeed so. While Johner' s definition of the many compared
to the one we all receive the influence of many collectivities, both from the
groups to which we belong and from those of which we are not members,
whether they are educational in nature or spiritual, economic, labor, family or
otherwise. The communities around us share great rewards and punishments, not only among
their members, but also among those who are not, and they try to
exert influence and control all sorts of things from our thoughts to our choice of
lovers or work activity. Tantan is also po os ons that depreciate or deter
us from turning ourselves over to activities that do not agree with your preferences.
In this tale, the old woman is the symbol of the rigid guardian of
the collective tradition. A people who saw by the fulfillment of the status quo
of the portate well do not provoke, disturbances, do not think too much
will not occur big projects. Try to go unnoticed if a copy of charcoal
paper is kind answers that if you don' t like something, don'
t fit, don' t get the right size and it hurts and so
on. The fact of following a system of values so dull causes a huge
loss of the connection of the soul, whatever the associations or influences of the
collectivity. Our challenge, in the name of the wild soul and our creative
spirit, is not to mix with any collectivity, but to distinguish ourselves from
those around us and build bridges that can re- unite us with them when
we feel like it. We do not have to decide which bridges should be
strong and well traveled, and that other bridges should be kept empty and incomplete,
and the communities with which we relate should be those that offer the maximum
support to our soul and our creative life. The woman who works in a
university belongs to an academic community not to merge with anything that offers her the
atmosphere of that collectivity, but to add her own flavor, special as an
integral creature. Unless you have created in your life other forces capable of preventing
it. You can' t afford to become an unbalanced and irritable kind of
person to do my job. I' m going home. I return when
a woman tries to be part of an association, organization or family that disdains
to examine her inside to see what is made of, that does not ask,
that induces this person to run and that does not at all strive to
pose challenges to her or to encourage her to the full extent of her postins
abilities. Their ability to thrive and create diminishes considerably. The harsher the circumstances,
the more you feel exiled in a desolate wasteland where nothing can grow.
The fact that they turn their lives and minds away from the flattened way of
collective thinking and of developing their unique talents is the most important achievements a woman
can achieve, for such acts prevent both the soul and the psyche from sliding
into slavery. A culture that genuinely promotes individual development will never make any group
or sex a slave. But the little girl of the tale accepts the dry
values of the old woman, then she becomes a beast that passes from the
natural state to the captivity. Very soon she will be thrown into the wilderness
of the diabolical red shoes, but without the help of her innate intuition and
unable, therefore, to perceive the dangers. If we turn away from our
authentic and passionate lives and climb into the golden carriage of the old parched woman,
we actually adopt the person and ambitions of the old and fragile perfectionist.
Then, like all captive creatures, we fall into the sadness that leads to
an obsessive longing, often qualified in my profession as nameless restlessness. Then we
run the risk of taking over the first thing that promises to bring us back
to life. It is important to keep your eyes open and carefully weigh the
offerings of an easier existence and a smooth path, especially if in return,
we are asked to throw our personal creative joy into a crematory pyre rather than
ignite our own bonfire. Trap three, the burning of the treasure, the
hunger of the soul. There is a burning that is accompanied by joy and
a burning that is accompanied by annihilization. One is the fire of transformation and
another is only the fire of loss. We are interested in the fire of
transformation. However, many women leave the red sneakers and agree to let themselves
be cleaned too much, to be too kind and to bend too much to
the way others see the world. We throw our cheerful red slippers into the
destructive fire. When we digest values, propaganda and wholesale philosophies, including psychological
ones, the red shoes burn to ashes. When we paint, act,
write, do or are in any way that causes a reduction in our lives,
a weakening of our vision, and a fracture of our spiritual bones.
Then the woman' s life is enveloped in paleness, for she hungers for
the soul. All she wants is to get her life back deep. All
you want is to recover those handmade red slippers the wild joy they symbolize.
He could have burned himself in the fire of disuse, in the fire of
devaluation of his own work. It could have burned in the flames of silence
that we impose ourselves. Too many women made a terrible promise many years before
they understood that they would not have had to. Young people. They were
hungry for encouragement and basic support, filled with sadness and resignation, abandoned their
feathers, closed their words, extinguished their songs, rolled their artistic works and
vowed never to touch them again. A woman in such a situation has inadvertently
entered the furnace, along with her hand- made life and her life becomes
ashes. The life of a woman can be consumed in the fire of hatred
of her own person, because the complexes are able to bite with a lot
of force and, for at least some time, to frighten her to the
extreme, to keep her away from the task or life that interests her most.
Many years can be spent not hearing, not moving, not learning,
not discovering, not getting, not taking, not turning into something. A
woman’ s vision of her own life can also be consumed in the flames
of another person’ s jealousy or another person’ s clear destructive intent.
Family, mentors, teachers, and friends would not have to be destructive when
they are envious, but some are unquestionably so, both subtly and in a
less subtle way. No woman can afford to let her creative life hang on
a thread While she serves a loving relationship, a family member, a teacher,
or an antagonistic friend. When the life of the personal soul burns to
ashes, a woman loses the vital treasure and begins to behave as dryly as
death in her unconscious. The desire of the red slippers of wild joy is
not only preserved, but it increases, overflows and in the end rises wobbly
and invades everything with hungry violence. Being hungry for the soul means being desperately
hungry. Then the woman feels a voracious hunger for anything that makes her feel
alive again. A woman who has been captured does not know what to do
and accepts anything that seems similar to the initial treasure, whether it was good
or not. A woman who is hungry for the true life of the soul
may give the impression of being clean and combed on the outside, but inside
she is full of dozens, begging hands and empty mouths. In such a
situation, he will accept any kind of food regardless of its state or effect,
as he needs to compensate for the losses of the past. And yet,
however terrible the situation may be, the savage self will try to save
us over and over again whispers, murmurs, calls and drags our fleshless skeletons
from here to there in our night dreams, until we become aware of our
situation and take the necessary steps to recover the treasure, we will be able
to better understand the woman who gives herself to excesses the most frequent are drugs,
alcohol and pernicious loves, and the one who is hungry for the soul.
Watching the behavior of the animal desperately starving. Like the starving soul,
the wolf has always been considered a cruel and voracious animal that falls upon the
innocent and the unwary, killing for killing, never giving up. As you
can see, the wolf has a terrible and unjust reputation, both in fairy
tales and in real life. But in fact, wolves are self- sacrificing
social creatures. The whole herd is instinctively organized, so that healthy wolves only
kill what they need to survive. This pattern is relaxed or altered only when
a particular logo or herd is traumatized. There are two examples in which a
wolf kills in excess. In both the wolf is not well. A wolf
can kill indiscriminately when it has contracted rabies or mucus. A wolf can also
kill in excess after a period of hunger. The idea that hunger can alter
the behavior of creatures is a very significant metaphor for the woman who dies of
hunger nine times out of ten, a woman suffering from some spiritual, psychological
problem that leads her to fall into traps and suffer serious injuries. She is
a woman who dies of hunger or who has suffered an intense hunger of the
soul in the past. Among wolves, hunger occurs when it snows a lot
and it is not possible to obtain any prey. Deer and caribou act as
snow- cleaning machines. Wolves follow their trail through the snow. When deer
are isolated by heavy snowfall, there are no traces. Then the wolves also
remain isolated and hunger occurs. For wolves, winter is the most dangerous time.
In the case of women, hunger can occur at any time and come
from anywhere, including their own culture. In the case of wolf, hunger
usually ends in spring. When the sky begins after a period of famine,
the herd may be given over to a frenzy of slaughter. Its members will
not eat much of the pieces they kill and will not keep it in a
hiding place. They' ll leave her where Matan is much more than they
eat and much more than they ever need three. A very similar process occurs
when a woman is captured and dies of love. When he suddenly sees himself
free from going to zero or being he runs the risk of also turning himself
into an orgy of excesses and feels entitled to do so. The fairy tale
girl also feels entitled to come into possession of the harmful red shoes at any
errant price. Hunger causes judgment to become obnoxious. Therefore, when the precious
treasure of a woman' s soul' s life burns to ashes, instead
of feeling animated by illusion, a woman feels dominated by voracity. So,
for example, if a woman is not allowed to sculpt, she may suddenly
start sculpting day and night, lose her sleep, deprive her innocuous body of
food, endanger her health, and who knows how many more things she may
not be able to stay awake for another moment, then resort to drugs,
for anyone knows how long she may be free. The hunger of the soul
also reaches to the attributes of the soul creativity, sensory consciousness and other instinctive
faculties yes, a woman has to be a lady of those who sit with
their knees together. She has been raised to faint in the presence of soez
language and has never been allowed to drink anything other than pasteurized milk. When
suddenly he looks free, he experiences the urge to suddenly unspeak himself not stop
drinking hissing in the seats like a drunken sailor and his language is able to
tear the paint off the walls. After a period of hunger, the woman
fears that she will be recaptured one day and then decides to take advantage of
all she can. Four. Excessive killing or demeaning behaviour is typical of women
who are hungry for a life that makes sense to them. When a woman
has lived long periods of time without her cycles and without meeting her creative needs.
It unfolds in a whole series of things such as alcohol, drugs,
anger, spirituality, oppression of others, promiscuity, pregnancy, study, creation,
control, education, discipline, body fitness, junk food, to name
but a few of the most common excesses. When women do these things it
means they want to compensate for the loss of normal cycles, the expression of
self, the expression of soul and soul satisfaction. The starving woman suffers from
a period of famine after a period of famine. Maybe he plans to escape,
but he thinks the price of flight is too high, which will cost
him too much livid and too much energy. It may not be well prepared
in other ways, such as educational, economic, and spiritual factors. Unfortunately,
the loss of treasure and the vivid memory of past hunger may lead us
to think that excesses are desirable. There is no doubt that it is a
relief and a pleasure to finally enjoy a feeling of any kind of sensation.
A woman who just got rid of hunger just wants to enjoy life for a
change. But in fact, her dormant perceptions of the emotional, rational,
physical, spiritual, and economic limits libs necessary for survival put her in a
dangerous situation. Somewhere there are bright and harmful red shoes waiting for him and
he will take them wherever he finds them. That' s what' s
wrong with hunger. If anything seems to satisfy your longing, the woman will
take it without discussion. Trap four. The injury of the conservation instinct the
consequence of the capture. Instinct is a very difficult thing to define, because
its configurations are invisible and although we intuit that these are part of human nature,
since times no one knows very well where they stay from a neurological point
of view or how they influence us exactly. From a psychological point of view
and one ventured the hypothesis that instincts derived from the unconscious psychoid from a stratum
of the psyche in which biology and spirit rose. After careful reflection, I
have come to have the same opinion and even dare say that the creative instinct
in particular is the lyrical language of the self, to the same extent that
the symbolology of dreams is. Etymologically, the word instinct derives from the Latin
verb instinguere, which means instigating, stimulating, and also from the word instinctus,
which means instigating impulse. The idea of instinct can be positively assessed as
an inner thing that, mixed with premeditation and consciousness, guides human beings towards
an integral conduct. A woman is born with all the instincts intact. Although
one could say that the fairy tale girl has been dragged into a new environment
in which her roughness is softened and the difficulties of her life are eliminated.
What is really happening is that it ceases its individuation and stops its momentum for
development. And when the old woman, the annihilating presence, considers that the
work of the creative spirit is a waste and if not a wealth, the
girl takes refuge in silence and is saddened, as often happens when the creative
spirit moves away from the life of the natural soul. Worse still, the
girl' s instinct to escape from that hurrying situation is totally overturned. Instead
of aspiring to a new life, he sits in a psychic puddle of glue.
Failure to flee when absolutely necessary causes depression. Another trap we can call
to the soul what we like our marriage with the wild, our hope for
the future, our overflowing energy, our creative passion, our way what we
make the beloved wild groom, the pen in God' s breath five whatever
words or images we use to designate this process of our life. That'
s what' s been captured. For this reason, the creative spirit of
the psyche feels so helpless. Through the various studies of wildlife, it has
been discovered that different species of captive animals, however lovingly they have built the
places they occupy in the zoos and as much as their human carers want them,
as it does, are often unable to procreate, their appetites for food
and rest are twisted and their vital behaviors are reduced to lethargy, bad humor
or an untimely aggressiveness. Zoologists call this behavior of animals captive to animal pressure.
Every time I know it encloses a creature in a cage, its natural
cycles, sleep, selection, couple, zeal, grooming, mating, etc.
They deteriorate and when the natural cycles are lost, the vacuum occurs.
Emptyness does not amount to fullness, as it happens in the Buddhist concept of
the sacred void, but rather is something, as well as being inside a
closed box without windows. Therefore, when a woman enters the house of the
parched old woman she loses the determination and experiences the effect of harmful emanations,
tedium, simple depressions and sudden states of anxiety similar to the symptoms recorded by
the animals, when the capture and traumas have left them stunned. Excessive domestication
extinguishes the strong and fundamental impulses of the game, of the relationship, the
confrontation with the difficulties, the vagrancy of the communication, etc. When a
woman agrees to be too well educated, the instincts of these impulses are hidden
in their darkest unconscious. Far from its automatic reach, it is then said
that its instincts are wounded. What would have to happen in a natural way.
It does not occur at all or only occurs after too many pulls and
shakes rational explanations and struggles with itself. In defining over- domestication with the
term capture, I do not mean socialization, that is, the process by
which children are taught to behave in a more or less civilized way. Social
development is of crucial importance. Without him, a woman could not make her
way into the world. But an excess of domestications how to forbid dancing to
the vital essence in the healthy state that is his own. The wild self
is neither docile nor stupid. He is alert and reacts at any time and
to any movement. It is not enclosed in a single absolute and repeated pattern
valid for all circumstances. You have a creative choice. The woman whose instinct
is hurt has no choice. It just gets stuck. There are many ways
to get stuck. A woman who has a wounded instinct usually gives herself away
because she has difficulty asking for help or recognizing her own needs. His natural
instincts of struggle or flight are drastically reduced or extinguished. The recognition of feelings
of satisfaction, disgust, suspicion and caution, and the urge to love fully
and freely are inhibited or exaggerated. Like in the story. One of the
most insidious attacks on the wild self is to induce the woman to behave properly,
implying that she will receive a hypothetical reward. Although this method may stress
he may temporarily induce a two- year- old girl to arrange her room
and not touch her toys until she has ever made bed six of the never
will result in the existence of a vital woman. Although coherence, the fulfillment
of an action to the end and organization are essential for the development of creative
life, the peremptory order of the old woman to behave with correctness destroys any
opportunity for development. The central artery, the nucleus, the brain stem of
creative life is the game, not the correction. The urge to play is
an instinct. If there is no game, there is no creative life.
If you' re good, there' s no creative life. If you
feel still, there is no creative life. If you just talk think and
act discreetly, there will be very little creative juice. Any group, society,
institution or organization that encourages women to demean the eccentric, to distrust the
new and unusual, to avoid the ardent, the vital, the innovative,
to depersonalize the personal. He' s calling for a culture of dead women.
Heannis Chopling, the blues singer of the 1960s, is a good example
of a fierce woman whose instincts were wounded by the forces that crushed her spirit,
her creative life, her innocent curiosity, her love of life and her
somewhat irreverent attitude towards the world. In the years of her development, she
was ruthlessly censored by her teachers and by many of the people around her in
the southern white Baptist community of her time, in which I know so much
about the virtues of the good girl, even though she was an excellent student
and a painter of considerable talent. The other girls ostracized her for not wearing
makeup seven and so did her neighbors, for their fondness to climb to the
top of a rocky hill outside the city to sing with their friends and for
their interest in jazz music. When she finally fled to the blues world,
she was so starved that she couldn' t understand anymore. When it had
to stop, its limits were very unstable, that is, it lacked limits
in terms of sex, alcohol and drugs. Eight there is something in Dassi
Smeth and saxten ideththhof merln Manou and Jury Gallan, which follows the same pattern
of wounded instinct, which is characteristic of the hunger of the soul, the
attempt to fit its conversion into alcoholized, its inability to stop nine. I
could draw up a very long list of talented women with the wounded instinct that
in the vulnerable state in which they were found made very wrong decisions, such
as the fairy tale girl. All of them lost their handmade sneakers along the
way and reached even the harmful red shoes. They all died of sadness,
for they were hungry for spiritual food, for accounts of the soul, for
natural vagrancy, for personal ornaments according to their needs, for divine learning and
for a healthy and simple sexuality. But they unintentionally chose the cursed shoes,
the beliefs, the actions, the ideas that led to the progressive deterioration of
their lives and these turned them into spectra devoted to a mad dance. One
cannot underestimate the possibility that instinct injury is the cause of women' s behavior
when they behave as if they were crazy, when they feel dominated by obsessions
or become stuck in less harmful, but not less destructive, behaviors. The
healing of wounded instincts begins with the recognition that there has been a capture followed
by a hunger of the soul and that the limits of insight and protection have
been altered. The process that led to the capture of a woman and the
consequent hunger of the soul has to be reversed, but first many women go
through the next phases that I know describe in the tale trap five, the
supreptitious attempt to lead a secret life of being divided into two. In this
part of the story, the girl is going to be confirmed and taken to
the shoemaker to make her some shoes. The subject of confirmation is a relatively
modern addition. From an archetypal point of view, it is very likely that
the red slippers are a repeatedly retouched fragment of a much older story or myth
about the monarch' s beginning and a life less soon by the mother.
In the case of a young woman who in previous years has been taught by
her female relatives to be conscious and to react to the outside world, ten
are said to have influenced our concept of the female soul in the matriarchal cultures
of ancient India, ancient Egypt and parts of Asia and Turkey, which are
believed to have influenced our concept of the female soul. When spread over a
territory of thousands of kilometers of extension, the delivery of wing and other red
pigments to the girls so that ten could be dyed with them will be the
essential feature of initiation rites. Eleven. One of the most important initiation rites
concerned the first menstruation. The rite celebrated the passage from childhood to the prodigious
ability to extract life from one' s womb and to possess the corresponding sexual
power and all peripheral female powers. The ceremony focused on red blood in all
its phases, the uterine blood of menstruation, that of a child' s
delivery and that of abortion, all of them hearing toward the feet. As
you can see, the initial red slippers had many meanings. The reference to
the Day of the Innocents is also a later addition related to a Christian holiday
that in Europe ended up eclipsed the archaic winter solstice celebrations of the ancient pagan
world. During the most remote pagan celebrations, women performed rituals of purification of
the female body and the spirit of the female soul in preparation for the new
figurative and literal life of the impending spring. Rituals could include collective lamentations about
12 misdemeanor pregnancies, including the death of a child or miscarriage. Births with
dead effects, induced abortions and other important events of female sexual and reproductive life
of the previous year thirteen. Now one of the most revealing episodes of psychic
repression occurs in the tale. The girl' s voracious desire for a soul
breaks the slats of her dry behaviors in the shoemaker' s tent, supreptitiously
seizes the strange red shoes, without the old woman realizing a voracious hunger of
life of the soul has bloomed to the surface of the psyche and takes over
everything that is at hand, for she knows that soon she will be repressed
again. This explosive psychological theft occurs when a woman pushes considerable parts of the
self into the shadows of the psyche. According to the vision of analytical psychology.
The repression of both negative instincts and feelings as well as of the positive
ones will result in their habitation in a kingdom of shadows. As the ego
and the superrego try to continue censoring the shadow impulses, the same oppression generated
by repression looks something like a bubble on the side wall of a tire.
In the end, when the tire starts to spin and heat, the pressure
behind the boa bubble intensifies and causes it to burst out, releasing all its
inner contents. The shadow acts in a very similar way. Therefore, an
avara person can surprise everyone by suddenly donating several million dollars to an orphanage Therefore,
a normally sweet person is able to suffer an outburst and behave like a
crazy person. We discovered that by opening the door of the shadow kingdom a
little bit and gradually letting some elements escape, establishing a relationship with them,
looking for a use and entering into negotiations, we can lessen the risk of
being surprised by the surreptitious attacks and unexpected explosions of the shadow. Although values
vary from culture to culture and cast different negative and positive nuances on the shadow,
the typical impulses that are considered negative and therefore relegated to the Kingdom of
Shadows are those that induce a person to steal, without harm, murder,
act with exaggeration and so forth. The negative aspects of the shadow tend to
be strangely exciting, despite their character in tropics, for which reason they take
away the balance, equanimity and life of individuals, relationships and groups. But
the shadow can also contain them divine, delicious, beautiful and powerful aspects of
personality, especially in the case of women. The shadow almost always contains some
very beautiful aspects of the being that culture has forbidden or that it hardly supports.
At the bottom of the well of the psyche of too many women is
the visionary creator, the clever storyteller, the forerunner, the one who knows
how to speak well of herself without contempt, the one who can look at
her face without blinking, the one who strives to improve her art. The
positive impulses of shadow in the women of our culture often revolve around permission to
create a handmade life. These discarded, despised and unacceptable aspects of soul and
self are not limited to remaining hidden in darkness, but rather are dedicated to
conspiring in order to establish how and when they will enter into action in order
to attain freedom. They blush in the unconscious boil at low heat until one
day, however airtight the lid, which covers them burst out outwards and upwards
in an overflowing torrent endowed with self- will. So it is, as
we say in our remote wooded regions, like trying to introduce ten pounds of
mud back into a five- pound sack, it is hard to plug what
has exploded in the shadow, once the detonation has occurred, even though it
would have been much better to have found an integral means of consciously living the
joy that is born of the creative spirit. Instead of burying him. Sometimes
the woman is pushed against the wall and this is the result. The life
of the shadows occurs when the writers, the painters, the dancers, the
mothers, the seekers, the mystics, the students or the travelers stop writing,
painting, dancing, acting as mothers, searching, searching, learning to
practice. They may stop doing so because what they have devoted so much time
to has not produced the result that they expected or did not receive the welcome
they deserved. Zero, for countless other reasons. When the one who does
something stops for the reason that it is the energy that flows naturally from it,
it diverts him to the underground world in which it emerges where and when
he can know that in the middle of the day he cannot undertake with impetus
whatever he wants. The woman begins to lead a strange double life by faking
one thing in the daytime hours and acting differently when she has occasion, When
the woman tries to compress her life in a neat and precious little package,
all she can do is push all her vital energy into the shadow. I
' m fine, all right, she says about the woman. We look
at it from the other side of the room or reflected in the mirror.
We know it' s not right. Later one day we learned that she
has allied herself with an interpreter of Fluutin and has extended to typical Nooe to
become a queen of Billiards and ask us what has happened, for we know
that she hates the interpreters of Flautini and always wanted to live on the Island
of Orca, if not in Tipicanoe, and she had never told us anything
about the halls of Billiards. Like the heretic of Henmekotsan' s work.
The wild woman can pretend to live an ordinary existence while gritting her teeth,
but you always have to pay an eda price. He has a dangerous and
passionate secret life and plays with a former lover and with death. Fora pretends
to be delighted to touch herself with hats and listen to her dry husband'
s comments about a woman' s boring life. She can be externally educated
and even cynical, as she bleeds out inside oh like Jeanes Japlin, she
can try to adapt until she can no longer, in which case her creative
nature corroded and disgusted by the fact of being forced to descend into the shadow.
It bursts violently to rebel against the dogmas of good upbringing, acting with
a recklessness that endangers his qualities and his life. You can call it whatever
you want, but the fact of living a secret existence because the real one
is not given enough space to thrive is very hard for the vitality of women.
Women captured and starved steal all sorts of things. They steal censored plays
and music. They steal friendships, sexual feelings, religious affiliations. They steal
sneaky thoughts, dreams of revolution. They steal time from their partners and their
families. They steal a treasure and sneak it into their house. They steal
the time to write, the time to think and the time of his soul.
They sneak a spirit into the bedroom, a poem before work. Steal
a jump or a hug. When no one looks away from this polarized path,
the woman has to give up pretending. Living a falsified existence of the
soul never works. The tire' s always bursting. When one less expects
it, then there is nothing but sadness around us. It' s better
to get up, stand up as simple as the stand, live to the
maximum and the best you can and stop stealing counterfeits. We have to look
for what is meaningful and healthy for us. In the story, the girl
sneaks her shoes before the old woman with bad eyesight to indicate that the reseco
and perfectionist system of values lacks the ability to examine things carefully and be attentive
to what is happening around her. It is typical that the wounded inner scar
and also culture do not realize the personal affliction of the self. The girl
makes a new wrong lesson in a long list of mistakes. Suppose that the
first step towards the trap, the fact of getting into the golden carriage,
gave it out of ignorance, suppose that the abandonment of the fruit of his
manual labor was a typical recklessness of those who lack experience in life. But
now he wants the shoes from the shop window, from the shoemaker. And
curiously, this impulse to the new life is just and appropriate, for the
girl has spent too much time at the old woman' s house, so
her instincts do not give the voice of alarm when she makes this deadly choice.
In fact, the shoemaker conspires with her, winks at her eye and
smiles at her unhappy choice. Together they take surreptitiously the red shoes. Women
cheat like this, get rid of whatever treasure this is, but steal junk
here and there whenever they can. They' re writing yes, but secretly,
which means they don' t have any support and ignore the effects of
what they do. The student wants to live her life, yes, but
secretly, which means she will have no help or guidance. The actress risks
offering a completely original performance or presenting pale imitations that make her a remedy,
rather than a model. And what to say about the ambitious woman who pretends
will not be ambitious, but who is dying to achieve achievements for herself,
for her own, for her world. She is a fiery dreamer, but
she confines herself to eagerly moving forward in silence. It' s terrible not
having a confidante, a guide, someone to cheer her up a little bit.
It' s very difficult to tear out small pieces of life like this,
but many women do it every day. When a woman feels compelled to
steal her life, life literally means that she is living at the limit of
subsistence. He steals life when he hears them whoever the seals of his life
are, he acts with apparent calmness and disinterest. But wherever there is a
slit of light his dying, I jump, runs to the nearest way of
life, He encourages himself to let go of a thing back, pounces like
a mad dance, like a fool, runs out and tries to return to
the black cell before someone realizes that he is gone. Is that what women
whose marriages are unsatisfactory do? Is that what women who are forced to feel
inferior do? It is also done by women who are ashamed, who fear
punishment, ridicule or humiliation, who have the wounded instinct. Robbery is good
for the captured woman Only if she steals the appropriate, only if she is
alone, will lead to her release. Essentially h h h done by stealing
good and satisfying things and substantial pieces of life makes the soul experience more vehemently
than ever the desire to stop stealing and being free, to lead the life
she deems convenient in the sight of everyone. As you can see, there
is something in the wild soul that does not allow us to survive forever with
fragmentary scraps of life, for in reality it is impossible for the woman who
aspires to the conscience to steal small mouthfuls of pure air and then conform.
That' s all you remember when you were a kid and you found out
you couldn' t kill yourself by holding your breath. As much as we
try to aspire to a minimum of air or none at all, a powerful
bellows assume the command something violent and demanding that in the end forces us to
aspire the air as quickly as possible. We inhale eagerly and fill our lungs
until we breathe normally again. Luckily, in the soul psyche there is something
very similar. He' s taking over. If you overwhelm us to suck
big mouthfuls of pure air, we know we can' t survive stealing sips
of life. The savage force of the female soul demands access to all life.
We can stay alert and see the things that are right for us.
The shoemaker of the story foreshadows the old soldier who later in the story brings
to life the shoes that force the girl to dance to madness. There are
too many coincidences between this character and what we know about the old symbolism,
to think that it is an innocent spectator. The natural predator of the interior,
of the psyche and also of the culture. It is a force that
changes shape and can be disguised in the same way as traps, cages and
poisoned baits are disguised to attract the unwary. Let' s remember that the
shoemaker cheats on the old lady like the one who' s playing a joke.
It is not likely that he is in collusion with the old soldier who
is naturally a representation of the demon disguised fourteen years ago to the demon,
the soldier, the shoemaker, the hunchback and other figures were used to symbolize
negative forces both in nature or or or or earth or in human nature.
Fifteen, Although we might be justly proud that the soul was brave enough to
dare to steal something suddenly in such drought conditions, it is clear that this
circumstance alone cannot be the only one. An integral psychology must include not only
body, mind and spirit, but also culture and environment. Under this light,
we must ask ourselves at every level how it is possible for an individual
woman to understand that she has to go down, back down, crawl down
the ground and beg for a life that is hers at the outset. What
in any culture demands such a thing. The examination of the pressures created by
the different layers of the inner and outer worlds will prevent a woman from believing
that surreptitiously seizing the devil' s shoes is somehow a constructive choice. She
traps six the fear of the collective, the rebellion of the shadow, the
girl surreptitiously seizes the red shoes, goes to the church, being ignored the
stir that is armed around her and is hated by the community. The villagers
talk about her, punish her, take her shoes off, but it'
s too late. She' s trapped. It is not yet an obsession,
but rather that the Community provokes and strengthens its internal hunger by demanding it
to capitulate to its narrow- mindedness. You can try to lead a secret
life, but sooner or later, the supernet, a negative complex and or
the culture itself will be thrown over us. It' s hard to hide
something that others don' t approve of or that we yearn for. It
is difficult to hide pleasures by stealing, even if they do not provide us
with food. The very thing about negative complexes and cultures is to take over
everything that departs from the acceptable conduct established by society and reveals the divergent impulses
of the individual. Just like some people get angry when they see a simple
leaf on the floor. The negative judgment pulls out its saw to amputate any
member that does not conform to the norm. Sometimes the collectivity puts pressure on
a woman to be a saint, to be educated and politically correct, so
that she has everything well together and ordered, so that each of her efforts
is a perfect work. If we bow down to the collectivity and submit to
the pressures it exerts to adapt ourselves stupidly to its rules, we will save
ourselves from exile, but at the same time we will treacherously endanger our wild
lives. Some think that the time has passed when the wild woman was cursed
when she behaved according to the natural self of her soul, she was described
as wrong and evil. But it' s not like that. What has
changed are the types of behaviour that are considered uncontrolled in the case of women,
for example, today, in different parts of the world, if a
woman takes a political, social, spiritual, family or environmental stance, if
she dares to say that the king goes naked or speaks in the name of
those who suffer or those who do not have a voice, all too often
her motives are examined to find out if she has gone mad, that is,
if she has gone mad. The final fate of a wild girl born
within a rigid community is the ignominy of being dodged by others. Those who
avoid him treat the victim as if he did not exist. They deny him
spiritual interest, love, and other psychic needs. The purpose of all this
is to force her to conform to the norms or penalty of killing her spiritually
and or expel her from the soul idea so that she languishes to death in
the desert. If you avoid a woman, it is almost always because she
has done or is about to do something wild the most of the times something
as simple as expressing a slightly different opinion or dressing in a color considered improper,
that is, it is due both to very small things and to big
things. It must be remembered that an oppressed woman does not refuse to fit
in, but cannot fit in without dying. At the same time, their
spiritual integrity is at stake, so they will try to free themselves by all
means at their disposal, however dangerous they may be. Let us look at
a recent example according to the Sienan, at the beginning of the Gulf War,
Muslim women in Saudi Arabia, who were banned from driving for religious reasons,
got into cars and got behind the wheel. After the war, the
women were brought before a court that condemned their conduct and, finally, after
many interrogations and reproaches, were handed over to the custody of their parents,
brothers or husbands, who had to promise to keep them in the waist in
the future. This is an example of the footprint of life and prosperity that
a woman leaves in a crazy world that is branded as scandalous, senseless and
uncontrolled, unlike the little girl of the tale who lets herself be dominated by
the rest of the world around her. Sometimes the only alternative left for a
woman if she does not want to cower before a parchment community is to carry
out an act of courage. This act does not necessarily have to be an
earthquake. Valenty means to follow the impulses of the heart. There are millions
of women who carry out acts of great courage every day. It is not
only the individual act that transforms a dry community, but the repetition of acts.
As a Buddhist ur nun once told me, the ninety tas of water
pierce the stone.