Lately I have been out in the world a little bit more. All day yesterday I was in Chicago – the trains are free all this weekend – did you know that? I didn’t until after I had bought my ticket! Anyway not to worry I can use it when I go up again on Wednesday. …..
The other day I was in a forum as a newly minted organic grain landowner and it was marvelous. Surrounded by like minded people. I felt that wonderful sense of awakening into knowledge and discussion and learning. A sense of balance as my selves merged and worked in harmony.
Inside a woman is many women. I can’t speak for men because I am not one but I know that inside me there are many kinds of me. Over the last few months I have seen how easily I can morph from the Primitive Woman who is all eyes and ears and bristling fur as she tends to her pack, silent and watchful and alert in the frigid tundra temperatures.
To Wild Woman who strides and speaks with confidence, taking on all thoughts and racing ahead with ideas, head up shoulders back, ready to run in or run out at a moments notice. But refusing to be tied down into box. Questing.
To Nurturing Woman who can hunker down creating warmth and feeding and creating seamless service, calling to her cubs on the way home, hands always busy. Nurturing Woman walks with Wild Woman I think.
To Touchy Bitchy Woman feeling blocked and sensible and beholden. Who looks for all the reasons why she is not good enough. All the reasons why she is better staying quiet and safe in her box. All the reasons why she can’t run with Wild Woman.
To Gone Woman so consumed with her work or her animals that she becomes one of them. And disappears.
To Girl Woman who looks with wonder and surprise at all the changes around her. Eyes too wide for the weather that lacerates her. Eyes blinking in shock when they are not closed and sleeping so as not to have to deal with it.
We are all many people.
I bet just reading my ( mostly) daily farm journal you have encountered words from each of these women who jostle about inside an ordinary head.
To look at a person and think you know them or even a little of what they are thinking and knowing is naive. There is so much to a person. So many pathways in our thoughts. So much to balance in our arms if we are to run sure footed on the earth.
We spend too much time with labels and pigeon holes and sticky notes trying to make sense of those around us. Trying to make sense of ourselves, searching for something we have forgotten the name of, when running through the snow in a broken jacket with my pack of pigs and dogs sniffing and watching over my patch of planet will shake more sense into me.
Sense – sensible.
I blame luggage. My wild woman wants to run without luggage. Carrying my golden warring precious badly behaved and sleepy selves in my hands rather than sensibly packed damned bloody bollocksy luggage.
My feet tingle and wriggle with the anticipation of travel. I am already almost away. Three more sleeps – all of them on my toes.
It is snowing – I hope not too much.
C
The Kitchen's Garden 
32 responses to “WILD WOMAN and GIRL WOMAN”
That my friend was beautiful! It sings to the heart..
O yes, there are so many women inside.. each yearning for their own moments..
Many Blessings!
Often when I am out there working alone I feel a womanish farmerish kinship with you.
Perfect Words
Thank you.
Just change woman to man and they are all there in me/us men 🙂
It is wonderful that you say this. Just goes to show you never really know how a person is or what they are going through. I hope you are doing better – it is a rough time for you.
Thank you, Celi, for this lovely post. I believe that maybe what would make this world a better place, is if we all could look for and see the many faces of each person, for we would find ourselves there, too. It connects us. That is how I felt after reading this post – connected.
Recently we travelled to Mexico for a wedding, we were away 48 hour so we only took carry-ons. It was extremely enlightening and unencumbered, wish it was that simple all the time!
Traveling to warm environs is so much easier to pack for!
What a beautiful post about yourself and every woman I know. Thank you for putting it into such eloquent words.
It is always thus when We begin to travel. Even if it is only down a local path. And like baker Pete points out all men and women are created of many parts and talents.
You have forgotten Dancing Woman. She travels home lightly, dancing across the tops of the clouds between Here and There, carrying her flashing knives and only what is needful, heading for Aotearoa and her own cubs, covering the miles light-footed in her seven league boots. Not long to wait now.
We all have many women in us. Some I would like to be rid of, especially Damaged Woman, who lays traps for my stumbling feet and tongue.
Yes. We are all these women. Damaged women needs listening to most of all – to lift her up.
I never think of dancing because I just never dance anymore. Isn’t that sad.
It is sad… there is always time to dance, even if it’s while you’re doing the washing up.
Haha, that’s about the only time I dance now, while washing up or waiting for the pot to boil. My dogs don’t even raise their heads any more.
I am sure we all house/hide a few and yet why are we so shy of revealing them to others? Laura
This seems to be a very philosophical Sunday to me. You have made my day. I no longer feel so schizophrenic knowing that someone else I see as same has the same feelings about themselves. It’s like different women take over for different needs in our day and life. You have the soul of a poet and writer in you. I think you just don’t have enough hours in your day to excavate her fully. We need to make more time to dance as Kate said. And breathe! Have a wonderfilled day and I’m keeping good thoughts that the weather is cooperative to you.
So many women are afraid to let all of their ‘selves’ out – they would be lost at the newness they find and then would never be satisfied going back before that lovely metamorphosis. Our female ancestors were taught this is the norm – be silent, do your duties, don’t think for yourself, etc., and those that stepped out were often thought poorly of by society. Congratulations for putting this into words so eloquently! How often my mother said “girls don’t do that!” when I wanted to drive a truck, fly a plane, travel the world, join the military. ‘Girls are teachers, housewives, secretaries or nurses’, in her book. Fooled her! I did all of these things and more! Still am!
Thankfully that kind of “advise” (discouragement!) is of another generation; but we must be wary of losing ground on having the right/ freedom to make choices. Good on you for plunging in regardless!: )
Poetry in your women
What a delightful read! I am left to sit and think of all sorts of other attributes and, yes, we are so much with such huge contributions to make. Best wishes for a wonderful holiday home. ~ Mame 🤪
In the paper today is an article on the salubrious effect of journaling. Just think! You have an extraordinary record of your life—lives! Many people I think as they grow older seem to say “Where did the time go?” and in a wistful stunned tone—as if to say “and what have I got to show for it?”
Thank you! That was wonderful. I have no other words to try and match your eloquence here. And I’ll lamely end by saying I hope you have a wonderful trip to New Zealand.
Beautifully written with words that create a magical connectivity between us all. It is wondrous how many selves we are comprised of, how they switch in, out and operate interchangeably. We are marvels ♡