NA:DI:A - She of the Wild

She gathers bones. She sings life. She remembers who she is.

In the old days, they spoke of the Ear-Sense,
An ability said to be divided into three, or more, pathways.

They believed the ear must hear on three levels:
The first, for worldly conversation.
The second, for learning and art.
The third, to guide the soul and gather wisdom.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing, for this is the message of the tale.

The Wild Woman lives on barren granite cliffs.
It is said she lies buried by a spring.
Some claim to have seen her heading south in a burnt-out car, rear window shattered.

A fleeting taste of wildness.

We hear her in the music
that vibrates through the breastbone.
We feel her in the drum,
in the flute, the scream and the cry.
In the written and spoken word.
She exists in all forms.
No one truly knows where the Wild Woman lives.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.

She is friend and mother. She is there for the lost.
For those who must learn.
You meet her as the creative witch, as the goddess of death,
as the noble young girl.
You never know — you simply know.

Listen now only with the soul’s hearing.

The Wild Woman’s work is to gather bones.
She crawls through mountains and dried riverbeds
seeking what is lost.

And when the skeleton is whole,
when the final bone has been found —
she begins to create.

By firelight, one may see the pale white sculpture of the animal,
lying before her.
She stands over it, raises her arms
and begins to sing.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.

As she sings, flesh grows upon the bones,
muscle and sinew return,
and finally, the fur.

The creature takes form.

It lifts its tail, its body, its head.

Then the Wild Woman draws a deep breath
and sings so low the earth begins to tremble —

The creature opens its eyes,
leaps into the deep ravine
and disappears.

It runs so fast,
all you see is water spraying along the cliffs.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.

For now, time is sacred.
Light and Sound are the forces of creation.
When the moon’s beams strike the creature,
it slowly transforms
into a laughing woman.

The Wild Woman is now born.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.

She is the root that feeds an entire ecosystem of instinct.
She lives at the bottom of every woman’s psyche —
Her soul is ancient.
By listening, she nourishes her intuition.

And this passes from woman to woman.

So listen now with the soul’s hearing,
for this is the tale’s message.

Without her, they forget.
Without her, they lose their footing.
Without her, they cling.
Without her, they fall silent.
Without her, they do not evolve.
Without her, they become sterile.

For she is the regulating force,
as the human heart regulates the body.

No matter how often she is banned,
cut down, diluted, tortured,
declared untrustworthy, dangerous or mad —
She always returns.

Even the most suppressed woman holds
a secret space for the Wild Woman.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.

Should a woman, in sorrow, lose her —
and later find her again —

She will fight to keep her.

For with her, creative power blossoms.
The sexual cycle,
the creativity,
and the freedom of expression rise again.

No longer subject to others’ persecution,
they now know instinctively:
this must thrive — or perish.

So now — listen only with the soul’s hearing.
This is the message of the tale.

We all begin as a heap of forgotten bones.
A stripped-down skeleton.

Each piece must be reclaimed.
And it is a painstaking process.