I don’t want to write about my mother. This blog is too full of introspective navel-gazing emotionally incontient posts as it is.
When necessary I try to look back with kindness but mostly I try not to look back at all.
I had the good fortune to be led to Women Who Run With The Wolves, a book about how folk stories can teach us about our intuitive feminine nature – that wildness that is too easily trained away by mothers who want us to be good, to be quiet, to know our place. Dr Pinkola Estes writes about our vital need to have joy, to dance, to rejoice in our own bodies, and to find as many mothers as we require.
One of the stories in the book is Sealskin/Soulskin, a story originally from the Inuit Nation about how sometimes we need to step out of our everyday lives and go back to the well, the soul-place that feeds our spirit. You can read some of the story here, or the full story in the book.
For me, that place is the road. My father once told me that I “wouldn’t have got away with this if your mother was still alive.” I am quite sure she would not have allowed me to ride motorcycles. And I would never have discovered the gifts the road can bring.
This post is part of the February 2017 Brave, Bold Beautiful Blogger Challenge by Toadmama. Find out more here: Brave, Bold, Blogger Challenge. I really enjoyed #29in29 and know that I need a kick up the arse to start posting again.