I’m not hearing it much now, that text message that decided to come back and haunt me repeatedly, day after day: “Where is my la loba?”
But her work has re-entered my bones silently, sinking even more deeply as I read again of Pinkola-Estes’ Women Who…
“Once women have lost her and found her again, they will contend to keep her for good. Once they have regained her, they will fight and fight hard to keep her, for with her their creative lives blossom; their relationships gain meaning and depth and health; their cycles of sexuality, creativity, work, and play are re-established; they are no longer marks for the predations of others; they are entitled equally under the laws of nature to grow and to thrive. Now their end-of-the-day fatigue comes from satisfying work and endeavors, not from being shut up in too small a mind-set, job, or relationship. They know instinctively when things must die and when things must live; they know how to walk away, they know how to stay.”
This is from her chapter titled “Singing Over The Bones.”
Today I found a blogger whose history includes being raised as a fundamentalist. It’s a history I know well from my own upbringing. It’s not something I like to go on and on about or even mention if I can help it. But it does creep into my writing, into my nicknames and own personal archetype work, into my singing. Jezcallmeruth is my tag on Myspace and it hints at the Jezebel archetype, a much-needed balancing companion for Ruthness. A guardian over the predatory goodness of an all-giving, good-natured “your people are mine, your god is my god” character. Yes, some goodness can kill the very heart of what generosity protects and nurtures. But I digress, it seems.
That I was raised fundie and came crashing out of it when I realized I could not reconcile it with love itself and raise children, that fact permeates every bit of my now. It helped shape me. The struggle to gain something as simple as mental emancipation and soul-centered beingness freed of any sense of “sinfulness” dominated whole chapters of my life. That struggle makes for some intense appreciation of things real, things deeply human, potently in-your-face raw. Only recently has the anger and frustration of it all abated enough to give me room to bloom. And the redemption of it rests in the fact that long-bottled soulful jiving yum is exceptionally nourishing.
Google anything to do with recovering fundies and you’ll mostly find blogs dedicated to refuting and ranting at every ounce of fundamentalist nonsense ever conjured by the fearful. It’s a whole new world of anti-fundamentalism fundies. And I want none of it. Except to urge them to find a new religion, one that focuses on restoring what is lost in fundamentalism and not their addictive ranting religion against religion.
I want to learn from the skeletal remains of experiences, experiences whose blasting clarification of the vital importance of personhood, of innocence never lost, of self-awareness and of creativity catalyzes sweaty work to cultivate the best of being human. We get there by way of La Loba, by way of singing over the bones, by way of embracing the life/death/life cycles of our days, of our decades and by knowing the sweetness of change. And the sweatness.
Where is my La Loba? She is within and beyond in those who sing over the bones of loss, of hurt and of possibility. She resides a humming drumbeat in the soul of every one who longs to live fully even in the silence of rest.
jruthkelly © 2009