Soul Lessons -Singing Over the Bones

Be a Wild Woman

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"The wolf bones ... represent the indestructible aspect of the wild Self, the instinctual nature, the criatura dedicated to freedom and the unspoiled, that which will never accept the rigors and requirements of a dead or overly civilizing culture." "To sing means to use one's soul voice. it means to say on the breath the truth of one's power and one's need, to breathe soul over the thing that is of one's power and one's need, to breathe soul over the thing that is ailing or in need of restoration. This is done by descending into the deepest mood of great love and feeling, till one's desire for relationship with the wildish Self overflows, then to speak one's soul from that frame of mind. That is singing over the bones." Our stories are our medicine, our soul vitamins as Estes calls them. One of the ways that we find the Wild Woman is through the telling of stories, the singing over these bones. It's these bones that show us the door to our scars, and itâs through our deepest scars that Wild Woman is most easily reached.

Lost instincts ... I donât know when I lost mine ... but they had been buried for so long. I too had given over my life, thoughts, needs, and dreams to others ... becoming complacent with how things were in my life. I feared speaking out ... saying this is what I want. I let others offend me and I took it with a smile and a nod. Outside looking unfazed, but inside crying and hurting ... but Goddess, forbid, I show this side of me.

I wrote, but hid my work. I drew, but showed it to no one. I had opinions, but didnât share them. I had needs, but did not let them be known. I had ideas, but did not play upon them. If one said I couldnât ... I didnât. If another said you're too old ... I agreed. If one said, woman arenât supposed to do that ... I said, You're right.

Though I was the woman with no tongue I still healed many hurts myself, all quietly inside me ... having to create this space for my own survival. But the hurts that slowed me as a wild woman ... well I did not know how to heal them.

I wrote my stories .. always in the third person ... telling of passed hurts and healing, of fun childhoodâs I never had, of a womanâ with visions I feared to see, these were the beginning of my "Singing over the Bones...."

I needed a pack. I needed woman. I was at an age when I needed to let go, and be free ... but still .. because of lost instincts, I did not realize this was what I was seeking ... but I did know I needed to Sing My Songs of my life. I had the medicine magick to find my instincts but didnât know how to use it.

I found a pack ... wild women ... hair flying ... breast bouncing ... faces creasing .. eyes snapping .... wild women wolves .... we gathered and circled ... snarled and licked ... howled and whimpered ... and in time ... my song came more forwards in my soul. Till one day, one day most unexpectedly it burst forth, like the call of the Nightingale ... and everyone stopped ... and listened ... and my hurts finally became important to someone other than myself .... through my stories, wild women came before the fire and said to me ..... "me too, it happened to me too." Sing Louder Swampy, for there are others who need to hear that song. And I did, and I entrusted my pack with my inter-most secrets and instead of applause at the end of my song they validated me. My words became important, and understood. My tears got to mingle with others. My Singing Over the Bones became a story of importance .... as each woman who has sung her song since ...

I no longer am afraid to stand up for what I believe ... even if it is not popular. I have more energy than I did 8 years ago. I have learned I am important ... I have something to say. I no longer fear the sound of my voice .... I am no longer ... the woman with no tongue ...



"Wildlife and the Wild Woman are both endangered species."

The wild lands have been eradicated, and made sparse. In the other realm, our wild nature, the feminine instinctive, and the old knowing, is pushed into the background of our understanding.

We've learned to value cities, high rise apartments, large developments of what used to be wild forest and homes for animals. Without this wild environ, the wolf, the coyote, the fox cannot live in their full capacities. They are herded into smaller sections, and their populations are depleted of their strength and their numbers.

And this is what happens to the wild woman as well. We learn to value conformity, style, a perfect size 8 ... the wife that doesnât question or demand, the mother that provides our needs, the obedient daughter, the friend that listens and drops everything to help whenever sheâs needed. And the wild woman within slides further and further away from her sense of understanding. So many women live their lives as a disguised creature.



Women are controlled by so many things. Even by other women. We are shoved into a tiny mold, and our over-flowing edges are cut off. The culture wants, needs, us to be one way. Not for us. For them.

"Those who want to externally control others are acting from a place of deep lack of confidence and insecurity. It comes from a deep dependence that they donât want to admit to. So they give that dependence a different image by spreading it onto others... Those who spread weakness are weak inside. Itâs a law of nature. You cannot stop the flow of what is inside. They have to spread what is inside of them." (Windhorse Woman, by Lynn V. Andrews).

Our colorful thoughts, ideas, and actions are labeled "unconventional" and there is a price that gets paid for being different. They are also trivalized and dismissed. It takes a strong woman to stand up to that. Bucking the popular cultural myths and ideas takes courage. I have a few that I buck, and every time I do I rile people up. I feel the accepted outlook being pressed down upon me, like a cookie cutter, trying to force me to change. To get rid of these dangerous ideas.

Two examples of my own dangerous ideas are that the myth of Prince Charming (one day the right man will come along) is destructive and that the mantle of motherhood does not fit every woman.

If I want others to let me sing over my bones, without correcting the words or the tune, I have to do the same for them.



I was so unsure, with no self-esteem. I got married at 19, and for a long time didnât even have opinions. My husbandâs opinions were my opinions. If I dared to have one of my own, nobody ever got to hear it. I was dying inside. I had to break myself out of that prison of silence and fear.

What has amazed me is realizing that I was the one keeping me there. Nobody is shocked when I have an opinion. They expect it. Welcome it. I was the one who had to do the learning, to find out how the rest of the world actually lived. Adapt to it. Be brave enough to see myself as good enough to be and act as others did. It was not how I had imagined it in my head. Nobody assumed I was worthless. They actually assumed I had some worth!

They saw me as a swan when I still believed I was an ugly duckling.

I have learned how difficult it is to deal with people who are like I was. Nobody is going to go in there after us and bring us out of our shells. We have got to come to a point, as you and I did, when we begin to free ourselves. Thatâs where wild woman comes in. She helps us sort it out.