It is the element of spirit within woman that is in constant search of herself and perpetually blinded by the wrong story. She seeks warmth and illumination in dusty fluorescent bathroom lighting, bare burning porch bulbs, the magnified reflection of the luminous man just outside the goldfish bowl.
She breaks her wings, loses scales, floats into his mouth and through and around - liquid illusion. Where there should have been moonlight, the sun and open air, a vast and endless ocean, there is instead false guidance, an imposing wall, and a tired, broken, misguided creature, silenced by repeated failure and loss.
I have heard only a handful of stories surrounding the mystery of 'woman'. I know what it has been for me and I am still finding my own voice.
I need to know what it has been for you.
This is an invitation for a safe place to share and an honest place to listen.
I believe we need a tapestry that will support all of us in being human, in being women, in being defined by what we know to be true about ourselves and each other. A place we can change ourselves from reflection of another's ideas into a portal for the real truths that will ultimately lead us to the moon, to the air, to the vast and endless sea.
Please submit any stories or thoughts you would like included here in a message to me on myspace or to:
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Love,
Philomela
Women will starve in silence until new stories are created
which confer on them the power of naming themselves
Sarah Gilbert
Susan Gubar
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