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Be wild that is how to clear the river.
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
Rubies
River
Wild
Rivers
Clear
More quotes by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Just because a woman is silent does not mean she agrees.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
For myself, solitude is rather like a folded-up forest that I carry with me everywhere and unfurl around myself when I have need.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Asking the proper question is the central act of transformation!
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Dogs are the magicians of the universe.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The quintessential feminine Self stands at the center of the psyche and it is wild, meaning natural and free, and utterly wise. It is not 'something' we must strive to create. This Self is already fully present, burning strong and waiting for us to come into its presence.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Wolves and women are relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mate and their pack. Yet both have been hounded, harassed and falsely imputed to be devouring and devious, overly aggressive, of less value than those who are their detractors.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The deterioration of symbols is natural. They wear out, needing to be reclaimed, recreated returned to the spirit.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Anything you do from the soulful self will help lighten the burdens of the world. Anything. You have no idea what the smallest word, the tiniest generosity, can cause to be set in motion...Mend the part of the world that is within your reach.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
A woman who is starved for her real soul-life may look 'cleaned up and combed' on the outside, but on the inside she is filled with dozens of pleading hands and empty mouths.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The body is a multilingual being. It speaks through its color and its temperature, the flush of recognition, the glow of love, the ash of pain, the heat of arousal, the coldness of nonconviction. . . . It speaks through the leaping of the heart, the falling of the spirits, the pit at the center, and rising hope.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
A lover cannot be chosen a la smorgasbord. A lover has to be chosen from soul-craving. To choose just because something mouthwatering stands before ou will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-self. And that is what the intuition is for it is the direct messenger of the soul.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Though her soul requires seeing, the culture around her requires sightlessness. Though her soul wishes to speak its truth, she is pressured to be silent.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
To be poor and be without trees, is to be the most starved human being in the world. To be poor and have trees, is to be completely rich in ways that money can never buy.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
We practice conscious forgetting by refusing to summon up the fiery material, we refuse to recollect. To forget is an active, not a passive, endeavor. It means to not haul up certain materials, or turn them over and over, to not work oneself up by repetitive thought, picture, or emotion.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Mindful choosing of friends and lovers, not to mention teachers, is critical to remaining conscious, remaining intuitive, remaining in charge of the fiery light that sees and knows.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says, 'Nothing good came of this' is not yet listening.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The predation of wolves and women by those who misunderstand them is strikingly similar.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
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.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Like all other lonely or hungry things, ego loves the light. It sees light, and the possibility of being close to the soul, and it creeps up to it and steals one of its essential camouflages. In a hunger for soul, our own ego-self steals the pelt
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Writing, real writing, should leave a small sweet bruise somewhere on the writer . . . and on the reader.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes