Clarissa Pinkola Estes 335 words, 183K views, 69 comments
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On Aug 31, 2013marian rapoport wrote :
it is 3 o'clock in the morning and somehow (though i don't believe in coincidences) my ship was guided to this particular harbor where, yes, i do feel safe and able to moor. i promise you i will not stay here, but will continue on my journey as a 66 year old woman for whom the beloved crone years are the very best. the wild and wise path, whose forest trails have been sketched with such fierce tenderness and love by clarissa pinkola estes, is one that the "hungry boots" of my youth long ago touched down on, as if i never had a choice. i have stumbled much and often tripped on the tree roots beneath my feet, especially when journeying through the woods when dark or moving too fast. it is fellow travellers like ms. estes who illuminate the markers on the trails and call out with wisdom and reassurance when i'm miraculously back on track. she is a compass, a guide, and sometimes - i suspect - that fierce eagle flying above whose soaring and dipping show what it looks like to be free.
i suppose that yes, great ships are meant to sail in the vastness of the ocean waters. but without a harbor to rest in and sometimes call "home," they would easily weary and sometimes get lost. in that blessed sense, clarissa tosses me an anchor that i cherish for it is one of the few i have ever known. of course, she soon sends me on my way, but with the loving admonition that i brave the choppy waters and still - in my soul - know that i am safe.
On Aug 31, 2013 marian rapoport wrote :
it is 3 o'clock in the morning and somehow (though i don't believe in coincidences) my ship was guided to this particular harbor where, yes, i do feel safe and able to moor. i promise you i will not stay here, but will continue on my journey as a 66 year old woman for whom the beloved crone years are the very best. the wild and wise path, whose forest trails have been sketched with such fierce tenderness and love by clarissa pinkola estes, is one that the "hungry boots" of my youth long ago touched down on, as if i never had a choice. i have stumbled much and often tripped on the tree roots beneath my feet, especially when journeying through the woods when dark or moving too fast. it is fellow travellers like ms. estes who illuminate the markers on the trails and call out with wisdom and reassurance when i'm miraculously back on track. she is a compass, a guide, and sometimes - i suspect - that fierce eagle flying above whose soaring and dipping show what it looks like to be free.
i suppose that yes, great ships are meant to sail in the vastness of the ocean waters. but without a harbor to rest in and sometimes call "home," they would easily weary and sometimes get lost. in that blessed sense, clarissa tosses me an anchor that i cherish for it is one of the few i have ever known. of course, she soon sends me on my way, but with the loving admonition that i brave the choppy waters and still - in my soul - know that i am safe.