Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics

Gaia, the mythic goddess, spontaneously came into being, without being created by some external force or driven by some utilitarian agenda. This is the feminine principle. She is being for the sake of being, beauty for the sake of beauty. We are entwined with the Earth. We belong to her, and we are her. If the Earth is sacred, then so are we. The m

Cynthia emphasizes that one of the most important elements in this process is dropping our preconceived notions of what healing is supposed to look like. “The conceptual mind can’t figure it out,” she says. “The need is too great. It’s overwhelming.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, it is the women who transmit the living heart of religion, lighting the candles, singing the prayers, cleaning up the afterbirth, and bathing the dead.

When I lead grief retreats or teach writing workshops—which are largely populated by women—it takes about five minutes before community begins to magically coalesce before my eyes. Without my doing a thing, the people in the room gravitate toward one another and take the risk to trust. They notice one another’s wounds and tend them, detect one anot

When we deeply connect with another being, we touch the Divine.

Like God enters through a fissure that opens only on occasions like these, and you know you’d better pay attention, or you might miss her appearance.

the only useful response to the mystery of death is awe and wonderment. We may bring tea, wipe the dying one’s forehead with a cool washcloth, empty the puke bucket, read some poetry aloud, or reshuffle the iTunes playlist, but the most important thing is to sit quietly and bear witness. Bear loving witness.

deepening Create an event especially for women on a spiritual path. Maybe it is a silent meditation in solidarity with Syrian refugees or for the restoration of the Amazon rain forest. It could be a writing group using the writing practice methods of Natalie Goldberg (see “Writing Practice Guidelines” for a taste). Perhaps you will be singing sacre

get it. I still buy into society’s standards of feminine beauty. I confess to being overly concerned with my body mass index. I can (and do) look at women who are much heavier than I am with appreciation of their beauty. I find their soft curves sexy. But I strive for a jutting clavicle, an angular pelvis, a concave belly in myself.

Read, write poetry, color in a coloring book, take a hike, make a beautiful meal and feed your loved ones—anything that reconnects you with your soul. Keep a journal of your experiences so that you can reflect back to yourself the gifts that arise when you open the door to deep rest and loving attention to the moment. (If you choose to write, see “