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Where is the Wild Woman? A Journey into the Dark Forest.

Step inside the mind of a wild woman, and you will not find her there. For she has become the very forest you seek to encounter her within. She is the pungent scented earth and the musky damp air. She wears animal fur, scales and feathers fair. She is the cunning fox chasing the laughing grey hare. And the still deer's shrouded stare. Step inside the mind of a wild woman, and you will not find her there. She has become the very forest you seek to encounter her within. Unbound by shape and form, moving, shifting, bare skin turning.

Considering this idea of the illusive wild woman. The nature of her soul and her ability to become unseen, hidden, even invisible. I consider who might be seeking to find her. There may be those in her life whom intend to know her wild nature, to experience her, study her, know all that is her. Lovers, friends, family, the unknown face of strangers. Who is this wanderer in her dark forest, who is the hunter? There is one who always seeks to find her, always searching, never giving up the chase. Aching to know her, to touch her, to hold onto her and never let her go. The wild woman is you. She is within you. You are the wanderer, the lover and the hunter. This is your journey into the deep dark forest of your soul.

As a wild woman, a woman in search of my own wilder nature, the truth that is all me. I notice that I move in and out of knowing myself. There are times I feel a deep connection with my core essence, I can feel who I am and sense all that is me. And there are other times that I am lost, wandering and stumbling, trying to find her again. She evades me. I feel her right there, but then she is beyond me, out of reach. I catch her scent on the breeze, a sweet musk, that soon fades, lost in the stench of the concrete chaos. I see the dark green spires of the dense pine forest, I know that she is there but my legs are stuck, and I can not move closer to be near her. I feel her warm breath on my neck, I turn, she is everywhere, except where I look. I hear her laugh, her ecstasy echo's vanishing into hard cracks in the hills. Then I hear her no more, I feel her no more. And I am lost.

The journey of the wild woman is long with many twists and turns along the way. An intoxicating intimacy of the conscious mind meeting the unconscious mind, of everyday life meeting the magic and mystery of spirit. An enduring love story, the path of true expression. The pursuit of freedom for the soul. When we first recognise our wild nature, we meet ourselves in the deep dark forest of our soul. We enter into a spiral dance, conjoining with the roots of the earth, awakening upon our path of truth. Our daily lives embody our experience. We are living. With so many important things to do. We can unknowingly become distant from our wild nature. A crack becomes a chasm and the disassociation between our conscious self and our inner wild woman grows wider. We may not be aware of this happening until we feel it. Like a sinking stuckness, a confusion, a bleak outlook. We are lost. And so the journey back into the deep dark forest begins again. And this is the cycle. The pursuit of the soul.

How do we find her again. Do we call to her, do we cry, do we scream until our throat burns. When we are lost we break down, crumble. Crumbling? Is this the way? In the breaking down, the crumbling of our barriers, our walls, our unbending rigidity. We surrender to change, to a dissolving of our defences. We become soft, like humus. In this humus we have released our scent into the air, we have crouched down into the earth and opened our legs, we have let our blood soak into the earth. Crumbling can feel scary. Macabre figures play menacingly, mocking, tormenting us with lunacy. Every wild woman considers at one point her sanity. But therein lies the dimensions of her depths of beauty. She does not hide from the dark, and the darker parts of herself. The shadows are her teacher. She does not retreat from the wild animal that roams within her, the cutting truth of herself and her deadly bite. She does not silence her death cry, she howls into the hollow endless night. She does not stem her blood flow, she bleeds and bares the contractions of her body until the blood is gone.

We find our wild woman within by never forgetting her presence. There may be times when we need her less, when life is busy and there is never enough time. There are times when we will need only her, to feel her full embrace, to become her and wear her many kin skins. There will be times we need to feel a deep sense of residing within the dark forest of our wild minds. Finding our rhythm and moving within our own natural cycles will always bring us back to our wild self. Listening to our bodies and sensing what is needed there will forever guide us back to our true nature. Where we can drink from the fresh river. Be nourished by the fruits and berries and grounded by the roots beneath us. If we feel pain, mental or emotional all we need to do is ask 'what do I need right now'. And our inner wild woman will will provide for us with the guidance we need.

We are the many known and unknown faces, in search of the wild woman. Who are we today? Lover, friend, stranger or hunter?

Yours in the heart of the woodland,

Mags Black.

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