"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

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Member Comments on this Photo:
7/31/2014 12:29:17 PM

WOW! I see it just the opposite.

7/27/2014 1:19:25 PM


2/15/2012 3:30:00 AM

here is what I have…
big thighs
lil tits
so much love

To malign or judge a woman’s inherited physicality is to cause generation after generation of neurotic women. To attack a woman thusly robs her of the natural lilt she feels in her body no matter what height, size or shape she is. Destroying a woman’s instinctive affiliation with her natural body cheats her of confidence. It causes her to perseverate about whether she is a good person or not, and bases her self-worth on how she looks instead of who she is. It is unthinkable in the instinctive world that a woman should be preoccupied by appearance this way.

The body is like an earth. It is a land unto itself. It is vulnerable to overbuilding, being carved into parcels, cut off, over-mined and shorn of its power as any landscape. The wilder woman will not be easily swayed by redevelopment schemes. For her, the questions are not how to form, but how to feel. The breast in all its shapes has the function of feeling and feeding. Does it feel? Does it feed? It is a good breast.

The hips, they are wide for a reason: Inside them is a satiny cradle for a new life. A woman’s hips are the outriggers for the body above and below; they are portals, they are a lush cushion, the handholds for love, a place for children to hide behind. The legs, they are meant to take us, sometimes to propel us; they are pulleys that help us to lift, they are the anillo, the ring for encircling a lover. They cannot be too this or too that. They are what they are.

There is no 'supposed to be' in bodies. The question is not size or shape or age, or even having two of everything, for some do not. The wild issue is, does this body feel, does it have a connection to pleasure, to heart, to soul, to the wild? Does it have happiness, joy? Can it, in its own way, move, dance, jiggle, sway and thrust? Nothing else matters.

Excerpted from
'Women Who Run With the Wolves'
by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

5/23/2011 2:58:49 PM


4/15/2011 5:14:35 AM

Nice picture.

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