<![CDATA[Wild Wolf Women of the Web - Blog]]>Tue, 12 Jul 2016 11:38:09 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[The beauty of the word No]]>Tue, 12 Jul 2016 00:48:07 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/the-beauty-of-the-word-noI saw a meme the other day attributed to British actor, Helen Mirren. 
"At 70 years old, if I could give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be the use of the words "fuck off' much more frequently."

That made me think, 'Well if you learned to say No, then you don't have to say "Fuck off" as much.' 

Personally, I didn't learn the beauty of the word 'No' until well into my 30's. But oh the beauty of it. The freedom it brought to me. Have you learned the word no? What were you doing when you learned? 
<![CDATA[Things we take for Granted]]>Sun, 13 Dec 2015 18:58:37 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/things-we-take-for-grantedThere are things we all take for granted. 

This year, I've found time on the computer is taken for granted. You see, my poor old Mac was dying. I didn't want to accept it. I couldn't really work on it. The most I could do was add my pictures from my camera and then transfer them to the phone. So I haven't posted like I should. I haven't checked the website submissions like I should. I was out exploring Boston thru half of this year. 

Then I came to Georgia, and my life changed completely. 

Two weeks after I started my newest assignment in southwest Georgia, my family found out that my dad had lung cancer. Stage 4, already spread past his lymph nodes and into this bones. It was his bone cancer metastasis that was causing the pain that sent him to the Emergency Room, it was his bone cancer that was killing him.  I took my family for granted. I took having them with me on this planet for granted.  My dad opted to go home with hospice care and have a quality of life instead of being sick from multiple chemo rounds. One was enough for him. 

Ten weeks later, on November 22, my dad passed. This year I can no longer take for granted that holidays will be happy, because they will not. It will be the first one without my dad. Who was my rock. Whose personality I mostly inherited. My silly dad won't be here to say "Whoo wee, let's get amongst this turkey!" at Christmas.  He wasn't here for his birthday on December 7. He won't be here for my birthday in January, nor his and mom's wedding anniversary. 

This season will be a season of letting go, and realizing just how much I take for granted. ]]>
<![CDATA[Sunday Reading]]>Sun, 18 Jan 2015 20:46:36 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/sunday-readingToday I was rereading “Women Who Run with the Wolves,” chapter 1, as you do when starting a reread. I have come to realize that you read this book at different points in your life and the words open to new insights. What you weren’t ready to understand and to know back in your 30’s you now can understand and see in your 40’s. 

Chapter 1 is all about the Howl. In fact, Clarissa Estes names the chapter ‘The Howl: Resurrection of the Wild Woman.’

“There is an old woman who lives in a hidden place that everyone knows in their souls but few have ever seen.”

This time reading, I understand that it is that place that is taught to you when learning to Journey (Shamanic Journeying). There is a place in your soul, it is a judge of how your spirit is. It can be some place you have physically seen or been to, some place of your own making. It is where you start your Journey, whether you go to the lower world or the upper. For me, this hidden place of the old woman, is that soul home inside of each of us. We have to go out and find it inside of ourselves. 

I say go out and find it because it usually takes some outside influence to even know that we need to seek it. Then we go looking for that entrance to our soul home and the old woman there. 

“She (La Loba/Wolf Woman) collects and preserves especially that which is in danger of being lost to the world. ....But her specialty is wolves.”

“..when the last bone is in place and the beautiful white sculpture of the creature is laid out before her, she sits by the fire and thinks about what song she will sing.”

Does this mean the song is as important as the bones? If we are singing over our own bones what we sing about and how we sing is just as important as the bones we see and bring back into a whole wild woman. 

“And still La Loba sings so deeply that the floor of the desert shakes, and as she sings, the wolf opens it’s eyes, leaps up, and runs away down the canyon.”

Our most primal screams always come out deep and gravely. Tantrists teach women that their best, longest lasting, and hardest orgasms happen when our moans and cries are in the deeper registers. I’ve found that to be true. At my angriest, my voice drops, my screams deepen, the dominant parts of me are in a deeper register. If the deepest healing comes from the most primal parts of ourselves and that primal part is our bones, then singing from the deepest places and in the deepest registers we have drags that healing up to us. It won’t matter if we consciously recognize it, part of our Selves is ready to sing over the bones, to bring the deepest healing, to become the Woman we were meant to be. 

“We all begin as a bundle of bones lost somewhere in a desert, a dismantled skeleton that lies under the sand. It is our work to recover the parts.”

This made me think of the sand. What is the sand that our worn down bones are hidden under? For me, it’s the remnants of our lives: all of our memories, mistakes, triumphs, fallout from our choices: good and bad, everything we’ve lived, seen, smelled, touched, tasted. It scours us to the bone, to the primal. 

<![CDATA[Introduction and Afterward of WWRWTW]]>Sun, 11 Jan 2015 02:19:14 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/introduction-and-afterward-of-wwrwtwWhile I was reading the Intro and the Afterward, I had my journal with
me. Sometimes writing a passage or two down and expanding on it. Not
nearly as many as what I highlighted or drew a box around whole
paragraphs in the book. What I am going to write here is straight from
my journal. It is unvarnished. I don't seem to have much of an ability
to edit my words into a truly cohesive writing. One with a beginning,
a middle, and an end. Over the years, I've become okay with that. It
rambles, and if you have the stamina to read it, then I'm open to
discussing it. :) One thing that struck me is the fact that until
today the intro and the afterward had nothing highlighted or written
in. I don't know if I didn't read them back when Mouseboots (a former
coworker and wolfie) introduced me to the Book and the Den or if it
just didn't resonate with me. 10 years on, it does.

"We are all filled with a longing for the wild. There are few
culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to
feel shame for such a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to
hide our feelings. But the shadow of Wild Woman still lurks behind us
during our days and in our nights. No matter where we are, the shadow
that trots behind us is definitely four-footed."

This took me back to that moment so many years ago (1998) when I knew
I had to run away from all I had known, all I had been taught, all
that was comfortable, and complacent. I was grieving a horribly bad

Sitting in my bed, panting, feeling four feet moving around in my
self, it was time to leave.

I hated my job, I was suffocating. Smothering with
expectation, with demands, with commands. It was freedom I sought back
then. Who knew that it would lead to the uncovering of my soul. I sure
as hell didn't.

Those four feet stripping my feelings bare felt like a dog in the hot
summer ripping up the ground and digging a hole to make a cool spot.
The digging and rending in my soul scared the shit out of me.  How and
where would I make that comfortable cool spot under the shade? Would I
ever be able to stand on my own? I knew there was a gaping big hole in
myself.  I tried to fill it with food, with meeting family
expectations, with people pleasing, with religion that I came to only
partially believe.  Nothing worked. Leaving home, finding out who I
was on my own became the only solution.  I had to run away. And it was
told to me that I was running away.  I embraced the escape aspect of
it. Turned out I was running to something.  It took me three years,
but I ran to the Book and then the Den.

Combining the strength of the women I met and what I had found out
about myself gave me my first glimpse of my wild self.  Black and gray
fur, scars on her muzzle, her ears, her back.  Her tail all but chewed
off. But I could finally see her. She was me and I am her.

"Without her they take too much or too little or nothing at all.
Without her they are silent when they are in fact on fire.  She is
their regulator, she is their soulful heart, the same as the human
heart that regulates the physical body."

Ahh Vesuvius! Some days I miss you. Vesuvius is what happened to me
when emotions, especially anger were bottled up for too long. All at
once, I'd hit my breaking point and explode. As a teen, a few times
that was a physical response. I punched a window, thankfully, it
didn't break. But truths would come pouring out my mouth in a torrent.
They were unvarnished, and sometimes cruel. I am thankful I have
better learned to ask for what I need. To give myself time to process,
to know when I am draining myself dry.

"It means to establish territory, to find one's pack, to be in one's
body with certainty and pride regardless of the body's gifts and
limitations, to speak and act in one's behalf, to be aware, alert, to
draw on the innate feminine powers of intuition and sensing, to come
into one's cycles, to find what one belongs to, to rise with dignity,
to retain as much consciousness as possible."

This should be the goal of every woman

"STORIES ARE MEDICINE"  I'm not entirely sure why I wrote that in my
journal in all capital letters. But it seemed to set my inner drums

"I hope you will go out and let stories, that is life, happen to you,
and that you will work with these stories from your life - your life -
not someone else's life - water them with your blood and tears and
your laughter till they bloom, till you  yourself burst into bloom.
That is the work. The only work."

Mariah wrote, "We are called to preserve the "feminine instinctive
nature" and rightly so.  But is there a corollary to "feminine
instinctive nature" and if so, what is it?

To me, that seems to corollate with the preserving of our own
intuition, our own gut reactions. Or at least it's a first step in the
corollary. Maybe it's in the beating of the feminism drum again. This
time on a global scale. As each woman realizes that she is not
property or has to be ruled by the men in her life, she reaches for

Maybe first that freedom is inside her own self. Turning off those
tapes in her head telling her to conform to cultural or religious
traditions. Turning on tapes that tell her to be more informed, to
listen to the heartbeats around her, to try to make it better for her
daughters and granddaughters. To listen to herself when she teaches
her boys how to be men. What does she teach them? Does she teach them
the old ways or does she teach them to respect women.

Maybe it is listening to herself and deciding for herself if she wants
to dress a certain way. If she wants to listen to a certain music. If
she wants to be on her own. If she wants to go to college. Listening
to herself about what she can do and what she is afraid to do. Does
she trust herself to do the thing that is hard? The thing that is not
in the normal purview of women? Is it in looking at the vacant lot
behind her house and deciding that instead of being the drug hangout
that she can put a garden in and help nourish the neighborhood. Or
simply picking up some plants and growing something on her balcony.
Listening to her inner voice as she sticks her hands in the dirt.

There are so many beginnings, at least one for every woman on this
planet. That is the corollary. The beginnings, all of them. Each one
bright and shiny or dark and scarred. But a start.

<![CDATA[The Call]]>Tue, 21 Oct 2014 02:46:58 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/the-callPicture
One of the members of our group found this lovely post on a blog called Her Strange Angels (www.herstrangeangels.com). I loved it and wanted to share both the image and their quote. 

To answer The Call is to change your name, releasing the syllables and sounds of your former self to adopt your rightful title. You are no longer Compliance, Prudence, Chastity. You stop trying to write beautifully, and begin writing what is true. Your identity is finally stripped down to only what is real for you- your new name, your oldest name that is- Wildish, Untamed, Powerful, and your handwriting is scrawling, fast and recognizable only to those who write the same way. The Call demands this of you.  Sarah La Rosa

They did not know who created the image. If anyone does, can you let me know, I'd love to give the credit to them. 

<![CDATA[Creativity]]>Sat, 11 Oct 2014 22:35:32 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/creativityOne of the things I love about WWWW is the creativity that we see in our women and their emails. Some share their poetry with us. I fell in love with a poem that our wolfie Mariah wrote. I asked her permission to include it on the website, and I will be placing it on the site, but wanted to highlight it on the blog. 


I am called by a thousand names
but the one I hold most dear is

The Bitch.

No one prays to The Bitch for favor.

When I am called The Bitch, it is because
you have felt the burn of my sword
pruning away your ancient beliefs
about me, and therefore, about yourself.

No one mistakes The Bitch for a friend,
though you always fall to my friendly fire. The Bitch
in you inspires your anger. You stop whining and 

fight back, as you were meant to from the beginning.
You drop your sycophant mask and call to me

with fists clenched and back strong, standing
up for yourself.  There! That is the daughter
I created, and you make me proud when
you embrace your inner strength.  Now,
learn to do that without the anger, bitch.

                                                © Marti Ceijas, 2014]]>
<![CDATA[time to wake up, Nashoba]]>Sun, 20 Jul 2014 00:21:21 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/time-to-wake-up-nashobaPicture
It seems like I have been hiding for some reason. I don't know why. It just seems to be a bit of a quiet time for me. When I am not sure who I am anymore. 

Now there seems to be a bit of an unfurling for me.  I guess I am waking up for the first time in almost a year. Who would had thought it would be in July. Times of change for people seem to happen during the changing of the seasons; at momentous occasions for a person; or after a time of grief. I haven't gone through any of those things. My rhythm seems to be off in that aspect. But who can tell when one will have an "aha" moment. 

So here is to all of us unfurling with new thoughts, ideas, feelings. Here is to all of us coming out of our hibernation. Here is to us who are looking around for the first time in a while. 


<![CDATA[The things we abandon]]>Mon, 05 May 2014 02:27:34 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/the-things-we-abandon
I spent Easter with mom #2. Aka as my mom's best friend. I met her in Texas at her moms place. 

I had a great time. While I was there I took my camera and took pictures. I walked around the old homestead. It's amazing the amount of things that get thrown out in yards to rust away. I am posting a picture of three wash basins in a row along a fence line. 

It made me think about the things we abandon. Especially the things we abandon in our Self. I can't say abandoning some things is a bad thing. I've abandoned prejudging people. That's a good form of abandonment. But I've also abandoned my ability to sing on key and to read music. Why? Why did I abandon two things that made me so happy as a child and a teen? Practically speaking, I abandoned them because I didn't have time for them. But sometimes I wonder if I abandoned it when I felt my beliefs pulling away from the religion that I grew up with. I sang in church as part of the choir. Is it part of me abandoning the religion of my youth or was a time constraint that made me leave it?

I don't know. There are other things good and bad that have been abandoned by all of us. I guess this is my season to wonder about some of the things I've let go of. Or is someone else doing the same thing?
<![CDATA[Quotes that speak to you]]>Tue, 01 Oct 2013 15:57:54 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/quotes-that-speak-to-youPicture
Do you have a couple of apps or twitter feeds that show quotes all day or just every day?

Did you ever have one that smacked you in the head when you read it? I had that happen to me yesterday. I follow @epic_women on my Twitter feed and they had a quote that Gibb's slapped me. 

"We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all." Eleanor Roosevelt

Are you like this? Have you closed yourself off from emotions so much because you are afraid that you will be the one doing all of the caring, loving, and giving in a relationship, any relationship? I know I have. 

I know I have to stop. I know I need to open myself up more. 

Do you need to do that same?  Have you overcome this obstacle? If you did, how?

<![CDATA[Wolfcon Thoughts]]>Tue, 24 Sep 2013 19:15:49 GMThttp://wildwolfwomen.com/blog/wolfcon-thoughtsPicture
l took this picture during Wolfcon. Several of us had gone to the Grand Canyon on Wednesday.

This is an abandoned barn.  It is a pretty good representation of how I've been feeling. Worn down. Abandoned. Derelict. Lonely. Empty. Covered in other people's thoughts.

A week with Wild Wolf Women just filled me up. Joy. Laughter. Talking. Great Conversations do more to sooth your soul than the beautiful scenery that is Arizona. For the first time in a long time I didn't feel lonely.  I felt heard. I felt loved. I felt appreciated.
I talked. I listened. I cooked. I dried dishes. I took pictures. I hugged. I was hugged. I lead the Opening Ceremony for the first time as Pack Mistress. I laughed. I cried. I healed. 

That is the beauty and magic of Wolfcon. That is the beauty and magic of being with wild wolf women in real time. 

Thank you to the women who came.  I hope you will join us next year and experience the magic yourself.