Wild Woman Cafe

For the past couple weeks a memory has been pushing against the threshold of my awareness. Today it broke through. I think it's calling me back to an important lesson I learned long ago about finding a blessing in hard times. In the spring of 1992, while I was a young hippie treeplanter in the open clearcut spaces of B.C., I met a Cree woman named Kathy Jacobson. I've always felt an affinity with Cree people because my grandmother was Cree, and therefore it's a part of me also. Sometimes I think Kathy was put in my path because my grandmother had passed on when I was young, and therefore was never around to teach me the important things I needed to know in order to receive guidance on my journey. If I ever catch up with my grandmother, I'll have to ask her about that one. Kathy, who referred to herself as 'Wandering Spirit', was only in my treeplanting camp for a short while, eventually deciding that planting trees just wasn't as enlightening an e

It's amazing how a little word can create such a big stir. As Germaine Greer duly stated, this is one of the few words in the English language that still retains its ability to shock. Why is that? There are so many derogatory names for other anatomical parts that we have used to degrade one another. Like, "that guy is an asshole", or "what a prick". But calling someone a cunt is a jaw-dropper. One can never be at a party, and say, "Man, my boss was such a cunt today", without having everyone within hearing shot swivel their necks to size up the person who could utter such profanity. If you use the word cunt , at least in North America, there is no turning back. You've been imprinted in a way that cannot be undone. You have sunk to the lowest level of vulgarity that language has to offer. Over in the UK, on the other hand, the word cunt is apparently used much more lightly. It's not too unusual to be called a "daft cunt" by ones boss

The beginning of the Dark Moon is only a day away. The phase of the Dark Moon is essentially the few days before the moon has waned itself empty and dark in the sky. Those from the earth religions see it as a time of deep power, a time of intuition, testing, and communion. For many women, this is a time when the womb also empties itself. A time of retreat and introspection. * The week of the Dark Moon, I am again my bear self for a few days. In this shapeshifting experience I lose sense of my humanity, shred by shred. It is a strange, painful, and enlightening metamorphosis. Like a neophyte in the desert mountains of old Mexico, having taken my dose of peyote for the journey inward, I am filled with body-wretching sickness while another form of vision takes hold. It is psychotic, agressive, and raw, but also deeply knowing and wise. In old times, women stayed apart from regular community activities during the Dark Moon; their power was considered to be too overwhelming during this time

There are many times, especially when I'm alone, when I think I am hearing things that in fact aren't those things at all. Last night as I lay curled up in bed with my cats, reading the last few chapters of my book for that evening, I suddenly thought I heard something resembling an Aboriginal drum ceremony going on. I heard the drums and the high-pitched cries so distinctly that I actually sat up straight to listen more carefully. As soon as I had done so, I realized that this audio tribal symphony was just the washer banging around with its redundant thumping wish-wash rhythm. As per my last post, I have a fantastic palate of imagination, and so I am never too surprised at my mind's capacity to tranform the mundane. Perhaps my Aboriginal ancestors would even have considered me a visionary? * Okay, I agree, that is taking it a bit too far. * Although all stimuli that we come into contact with is delicately sifted and garnished with our own special processing flavor, not ev