Me. The human behind the lens. A self-portrait to remind myself that I was alive this year. I’m at midlife. And it is midyear. And just about everything with this Mercury in Retrograde feels reflective. We all have wild notions of who we are. We evolve consistently into better versions of us through pain or love or beauty or raw necessity. But, no matter how many stages of myself I run through, the one constant which remains is the inner feminine wild. It is something that never dies but gets stirred back up from the ashes when I remember how powerful we are. What a force women can be if given the chance to unfurl that wild witchy undercurrent. Said best by Clarissa Pinkola Estes: “Wild. When women hear those words, an old, old memory is stirred and brought back to life. The memory is our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may become ghosty from neglect, buried from over domestication, outlawed by the surrounding culture, or no longer understood anymore. We may have forgotten her names, we may not answer when she calls ours, but in our bones we know her, we yearn toward her; we know she belongs to us and we to her.
There are times when we experience her, even if only fleetingly, and it makes us mad with wanting to continue. For some women, this vitalizing ‘taste of the wild’ comes during pregnancy, during nursing their young, during the miracle of change in oneself as one raises a child, during attending to a love relationship as one would attend to a beloved garden.
As sense of her also comes through the vision; through sights of great beauty. I have felt her move in me from seeing the fishermen come up from the lake at dusk with lanterns lit.. we see her when we see her, which is everywhere."