The Mountains, The Stillness, and the Life-Death-Life Cycle: Lessons from the Wild Woman
The Mountains, The Stillness, and the Life-Death-Life
Cycle
It’s been a while since I last wrote. I can’t quite explain
what’s been happening, that strange vacuum where everything happens,
yet nothing feels magnificent enough to record. No high-altitude mountains, no
extreme gym routines, no extreme runs or walks. Just life, flowing quietly,
steadily, and unhurried.
Since August, that’s been me, just letting life happen.
Maybe it’s Mount Kilimanjaro’s fault. A few months before, I would have blamed
Mount Kenya’s altitude, but you know what they say, you come down from the
mountain, and everything feels different.
Only hikers might understand this feeling , a kind of serene
emptiness that follows great heights. Runners call it the runner’s high;
for us, it’s altitude high sickness, that beautiful post-mountain
stillness where the body is grounded, yet the spirit still floats somewhere
among the clouds.
When the Mountains Go Quiet
Coming down from the mountain brings a strange peace, a zen
kind of energy. You learn to let life be. What is meant to die, dies. What is
meant to live, lives.
It reminded me of The Skeleton Woman, one of the
tales from Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ book Women Who Run With the
Wolves. In her words, the story teaches us to honor the life-death-life
cycle, that natural rhythm of beginnings, endings, and rebirths that flows
through all relationships, dreams, and seasons of the soul.
“The life-death-life cycles are the natural rhythm of the
psyche. Anything that is not in this cycle is unnatural to women.” Clarissa Pinkola Estés
And that, I think, is what the mountains teach you: to let
go gracefully. To let things die when they must. To care without clinging. To
love without demanding permanence.
Gratitude for the Stillness
Lately, I’ve been rediscovering small joys like listening
to the rain at night. I wonder if the world ever sleeps. I don’t think it does.
Somewhere, the universe is always awake a baby being born, a storm brewing,
someone falling in love, another letting go.
The world is organized chaos, perfectly balanced in
its contradictions. And somehow, I’ve made peace with that. I’m grateful to be
part of this grand, mysterious universe grateful to be alive, and to be, as
Estés puts it, “a woman who has learned to run with the wolves.”
Finding My Tribe on the Trail
I thank God for the mountains and the tribe they’ve given
me. People who understand when I say I’m busy hiking. People who get it that hiking is both an escape and a return.
It’s funny how hiking strips you of your ego. Up there,
everyone is equal. no titles, no ranks, no genders, no religions. Just humans,
one step at a time, moving toward the summit.
The mountains remind you of what truly matters, endurance,
humility, laughter, and breath. Every climb is a reset button, a way to restart
life. When you return home, you’re softer, lighter, and more awake.
So, whenever life feels heavy, find your mountain. Walk
into a forest, wander through a park, or just sit still and breathe. Reset.
Refocus. Restart.
The Archetype of the Wild Woman
Ever since I first read Women Who Run With the Wolves,
I’ve been fascinated by the psychology of the wild woman, the
instinctual, creative, untamed side of feminine energy.
As Estés explains, “The Wild Woman is the one who
thunders after injustice. She is the one who tells the truth when no one else
will.”
I’ve been revisiting the book and exploring its myths and
metaphors — each story like a mirror reflecting a part of my own spirit.
Here are six stories that have deeply resonated with me:
- The Bluebeard
– about discovering the predator within and staying curious despite
fear.
- Vasalisa
the Wise – a Russian tale about trusting intuition, symbolized by the
doll that guides her through darkness.
- Manawee
– a reminder of our dual nature, and the endurance needed to stay on the
path despite distractions.
- La
Loba (The Wolf Woman) – the one who collects bones and sings them back
to life; a symbol of reclaiming one’s soul and vitality.
- The
Skeleton Woman – about embracing the life-death-life cycle and
the transformative power of love, tears, and surrender.
- The
Ugly Duckling – a reflection on belonging, exile, and finding your
tribe.
Each tale whispers a truth, a reminder to live
instinctively, courageously, and fully.
Becoming, Again and Again
Life, like the mountain, is a cycle of ascents and descents.
You climb, you rest, you descend, and you begin again, stronger, wiser, freer.
Maybe that’s what maturity really is: knowing when to let
life flow, when to reset, and when to climb again, even when you once swore
you’d never “pay to suffer.”
I’m ready to suffer again, to sweat, laugh, and find peace
in the wild. The mountains always call me back, not to escape life, but to
remember it.
So here’s to the cycle, to gratitude, to wild hearts, to
sacred resets, and to every mountain that reminds us who we really are.
“Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature,
a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and
ageless knowing.” Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Key Reflections
- 🌿
The life-death-life cycle is natural - let things flow.
- 🏔️
The mountains are metaphors for rebirth and grounding.
- 🔮
Intuition is sacred - nurture it like Vasalisa’s doll.
- 🤍
Equality exists in simplicity - in the wild, we are all human first.
- 🌀
Reset often; growth isn’t linear, it’s cyclical.
- 🌕
The wild woman archetype isn’t rebellion - it’s return.
Comments
Post a Comment