The Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. This is proving to be a very empowering read, which I believe was the whole point of the book anyway. For those judge a book by its cover (which is also pretty badass), it really doesn't seem to even skirt the edges of feminism. At its crudest, it is a collection of stories and their analyses to help rediscover what it means to be a woman. If it sounds redundant, then it goes to show howo much we need this book.
I must say, books of this kind are not up my alley. It feels too verbose (even by my standards) and the bluntness induced by my utter worldly view of things makes it really difficult for me to penetrate the exuberance of being a woman, as noted in the book. I am just three chapters down, so it wouldn't possibly be wise to quote a favourite right now, but La Loba seems very ethereal. The whole concept of some force (our own, presumably) that can join broken, littered pieces, is deeply appealing.
Newspapers and TV news are frankly depressing. I am sure, in the zeal to be a part of the churning machinery, we, as a people in general, irrespective of gender, have lost touch with the deeper essence of our being. The something which we conveniently brush aside as spiritual is hard to understand and thus even harder to attain. Men and women both have it. I would like to believe that we women have it deeper, which is why, once lost, it is harder to find; but once found, it is a blinding light.
I am not the least spiritual by nature, and not really experienced in the ways of life either. But I have never, consciously, come in the presence of some strong spiritual experience. The Women Who Run with The Wolves may just be the first of its kind on my book-shelf. Difficult as it may be to tackle, I would rather plough through this as a form of education, and see where it leads me...