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Tears are a river that takes you somewhere…Tears lift your boat off the rocks, off dry ground, carrying it downriver to someplace better.

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

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Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: January 27
Poet
Psychologist
Writer
Indiana
United States
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Better
Boat
Bereavement
Rivers
Someplace
Somewhere
Carrying
Ground
Dry
Rocks
Lift
Tears
Lifts
Inspiration
Addiction
Takes
River

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Bone by bone, hair by hair, Wild Woman comes back. Through night dreams, through events half understood and half remembered.
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My brain has no heart, and my heart has no brain. That's why when I speak my mind, I appear heartless and when I do what's in my heart I seem thoughtless.
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I have to go to the woods, and I have to meet the wolf, or else my life will never begin.
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We all wish to be brave and strong in the face of disaster. We all wish to be looked up to for our endurance and efforts to help others.
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Just because a woman is silent does not mean she agrees.
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When a creature is exposed to violence, it will tend to adapt to that disturbance, so that when the violence ceases or the creature is allowed its freedom, the healthy instinct to flee is hugely diminished, and the creature stays put instead.
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When you focus with soul eyes, / You will see home in many, many places.
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At bottom is the best soil to sow and grow something new again. In that sense, hitting bottom, while extremely painful, is also the sowing ground.
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God forgives us. ... Who am I not to forgive?
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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.
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Story is a medicine which strengthens and arights the individual and the community.
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Writing, real writing, should leave a small sweet bruise somewhere on the writer . . . and on the reader.
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Some say that sudden knowledge of mystical matters is accomplished only in complete quietude, or that Creator, in one of God's many forms, appears only in orderly ways that are beauteous and picturesque, or that the mystical appears only in completely silent ways. All are true. Except for the 'only' part.
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When women are relegated to moods, mannerisms, and contours that conform to a single ideal of beauty and behavior, they are captured in both body and soul, and are no longer free.
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Be wild that is how to clear the river.
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Go out in the woods, go out. If you don't go out in the woods nothing will ever happen and your life will never begin.
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If logic was anything, all men would ride sidesaddles.
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Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing.
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The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.
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A runner is real when she takes the first step.
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