It's Not By Accident That The Pristine

Since Time Out Of Mind, A Considered Act Of Heroism Has Been The Cure For Stultifying Ambivalence.

The Body Is Like The Earth ... As Vulnerable To Overbuilding, Being Carved Into Parcels, Cut Off, Overmined, And Shorn Of Its Power As Any Landscape.

When Women Hear Those Words, An Old, Old Memory Is Stirred And Brought Back To Life. The Memory Is Of Our Absolute, Undeniable, And Irrevocable Kinship With The Wild Feminine, A Relationship Which May Have Become Ghostly From Neglect, Buried By Over-domestication, Outlawed By The Surrounding Culture, Or No Longer Understood Anymore. We May Have Forgotten Her Names, We May Not Answer When She Calls Ours, But In Our Bones We Know Her, We Yearn Toward Her, We Know She Belongs To Us And We To Her.

Freud's Translator Accidentally Omitted 'fashion' In The Psychoanalytic List Of Primary Instinctual Drives; Along With The Drive To Sexuality There Is The Drive To Wear Odd Garments That May Cut Off Circulation, Occlude Vision, Make Toes Grow Sideways, Cause Riots.

Stories Are Medicine. They Have Such Power; They Do Not Require That We Do, Be, Act Anything - We Need Only Listen.