Women ​Who Run with the Wolves 2 csillagozás

Clarissa Pinkola Estes: Women Who Run with the Wolves Clarissa Pinkola Estes: Women Who Run with the Wolves

„Women Who Run With The Wolves” isn't just another book. It is a gift of profound insight, wisdom and love. An oracle from one who knows.' – Alice Walker. In the classic „Women Who Run With The Wolves”, Clarissa Pinkola Estes tells us about the 'wild woman', the wise and ageless presence in the female psyche that gives women their creativity, energy and power. For centuries, the 'wild woman' has been repressed by a male-orientated value system which trivialises women's emotions. Using a combination of time-honoured stories and contemporary casework, Estes reveals that the 'wild woman' in us is innately healthy, passionate and wise. Thoughtfully written and compelling in its arguments, „Women Who Run With The Wolves” gives readers a new sense of direction, a self confidence and purpose in their lives.

Random House, 2008
518 oldal · ISBN: 9781846041099
Ballantine Books, New York, 1997
584 oldal · puhatáblás · ISBN: 9780345409874

Most olvassa 4

Várólistára tette 11

Kívánságlistára tette 9

Népszerű idézetek


So like many women before and after me, I lived my life as a disguised criatura, creature. Like my kith and kin before me, I swagger-staggered in high heels, and I wore a dress and hat to church. But my fabulous tail often fell below my hemline, and my ears twitched until my hat pitched, at the very least, down over both my eyes, and sometimes clear across the room.

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Und was macht die halberfrorene Bettlerin in ihrer Not? Sie bietet das Licht- und Lebenspendende in ihrer Schachtel zum Schleuderpreis auf der Straße feil. Das Resultat ist ein rasanter Energieverlust, ganz gleich, ob man etwas Kostbares buchstäblich für Pfennige oder zu einem psychischen Pfennigpreis verschleudert. […]
Das weiterhin frierende Mädchen zündet ein neues Hölzchen an. Aber jeder Wunschtraum brennt aus, und wir sitzen wieder in der Kälte. Wenn die Psyche einfriert, schrumpft man notgedrungen immer weiterin sich selbst zurück. Die Kleine zündet ein drittes Zündholz an. […] Das Erscheinen der Großmutter am Ende symbolisiert zweierlei. Am negativen Ende des Spektrums ist die Großmutter die letzte fatale Morphiuminjektion, bei der man von Güte und Wärme phantasiert, während die Psyche endgültig resigniert. […] Am anderen Ende des Spektrums ist die Großmutter ein Symbol für die Wilde Mutter, die im Todesmoment erscheint, um Seelen in ihre Schürze zu hüllen und sie im Schoß der Leben/Tod/Leben-Natur auszubrüten, bis sie wieder bereit sind, neue Gestalt anzunehmen.

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The modern woman is a blur of activity. She is pressured to be all things to all people.

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Even the most captured woman guards the place of the wildish self, for she knows intuitively that someday there will be a loophole, an aperture, a chance, and she will hightail it to escape.

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She is in the future and walks backward in time to find us now.
She lives in the green poking through snow, she lives in the rustling stalks of dying autumn corn, she lives where dead come to be kissed an the living send their prayers. She lives in the place where language is made. She lives on poetry and percussion and singing.

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Collecting stories is a constant paleontologic endeavor. The more story bones you have, the more likely you will able to find the whole story.

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It is our brush with Wild Woman that drives us not to limit our conversations to humans, not to limit our most splendid movements to dance floors, nor our ears only to music made by human-made instruments, nor our eyes to „taught” beauty, nor our bodies to approved sensations, nor our minds to those things we all agree upon already. All these stories present the knife of insight, the flame of the passionate life, the breath to speak what one knows, the courage to stand what one sees without looking away, tha fragrance of the wild soul.

20-21. oldal

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