Within the feminine psyche we hold the archetypal
image of 'Wild Woman.' It is the wild feminine spirit
who dares to dance naked around the campfire. It
is that part of ourselves that connects us to our
body. With her we are comfortable in our own skins
at any age. At times in our lives we experience
Wild Woman as our daily companion. At other times
it becomes a necessity to enter the inner forest
and reclaim her essence. Without her, joy is absent
and our energetic creativity is in danger of withering.
By day the wild woman is a princess with flowers
in her hair. At night she becomes an animal with
eyes that glow in the dark. I have heard her snarl,
bare her teeth and howl at the moon. I have watched
her smear red menstrual blood on her body to reconnect
with the goddess of fertility. Her wild nature brings
her equally close to the gentle mother who cradles
her baby to her breast and the woman who bites and
tares the flesh of the perpetrating animal.
Come with me, deep into the woods, where woman's
wild feminine spirit dances. Listen to the stories
of our true nature. If you are a woman, listen with
your body. If you are a man, listen with your heart.
Walk with me as we follow the women along the path.
The trees filter the sunlight creating patterns
beneath our feet. White dresses cling to rounded
bodies as we move together silently on our way to
find Wild Woman.
Come sit with me by the river and warm yourself
in the sun. We will swim naked between the reeds,
taste the color of green grass and stand together
on an island rock.
I will gather wild flowers and weave them in your
hair. I will help you make chains of white and purple
The fire is started at dusk with willow branches,
birch bark and fragrant apple wood.
Baskets of bread, fruit and containers of cool
drinking water are opened and shared.
The drumming begins welcoming all women to the
dance. If you are a man watch with the eyes of a
father, son, brother…
Some women are celebrating pregnancy, some the
end of fertility and some the beginning. Each woman
takes her turn with a drum between her legs, tapping
to the beat of her heart. The dance begins around
the fire. There is no right or wrong way to do this
dance, it is the dance of spirit.
The drumming starts gently.
Soft feet pat the earth.
The scent of rose oil and lilies
mingle with the velvet musk
of our female bodies.
At first we notice one another.
Then lost in our internal world,
we dance to our unique rhythm.
The spirit dance gains intensity with each
Arms wave, torsos turn in circling motions.
Bodies twirl, legs kick and hair flies in streaks
of silver lightning.
Eyes reflect the red glow of the fire.
They resemble the eyes of animals that
prowl the depth of darkness.
Breasts and bellies bounce to the music.
Backs shimmer like hot flames
Pulsating bodies quiver, undulate and heave
as the dance
builds to a crescendo of passion.
It is here that wild woman is likely to show
snarl and howl at the moon.
Bare feet pound the dirt beneath us
Time passes without notice
The untamed energy of woman fills the wilderness.
The drumming continues into
into the night, ending somewhere
in the clear, pale light of dawn.
In the morning I put on my white dress. I repack
my basket, extinguish the smoldering embers. I sing
The wild self within has touched my heart. Once
again she reminds me who I am. She companions me
in the creation of beauty, in the containment of
sorrow and she whispers in the ear of my beloved
the sigh of ecstasy.