General Wolf Rules for Life Eat Rest Rove in between Render loyalty Love the children Cavil in moonlight Tune your ears Attend to the bones Make love Howl often

On the surface we are still friendly, but beneath the skin, we are most definitely no longer tame.

Women cannot get away from this. If there is to be change, we are it. We carry La Que Sabe, the One Who Knows. If there is to be inner change, individual woman must do it. If there is to be world change, we women have our own way of helping to achieve it.

And then there are the cravings. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling that wild smell. She may have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, weed something, pull things out of the ground, or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her

The challenge of loving unappealing aspects of ourselves is as much of an endeavor as any heroine has ever undertaken.

To give birth is the psychic equivalent of becoming oneself, one self, meaning an undivided psyche.

It is not by accident that the one-eyed, the lame, those with withered limbs or other physical differences have, through time, been sought out as possessing a special knowing. Their injury or difference forces them early on into parts of the psyche normally reserved for the very, very old. And they are watched over by this loving artisan of the

The king helps the maiden live more ably in the underworld of her work. And this is good, for sometimes in the descent a woman feels less like an acolyte and more like a poor monster who has accidentally strayed from the mad doctor’s laboratory.

In all dying there is uselessness that becomes useful as we pick our way through it all. What knowing we will come to reveals itself as we go along. In all livingkind, loss brings a full gain. Our work is to interpret this Life/Death/Life cycle, to live it as gracefully as we know how, to howl like a mad dog when we cannot—and to go on, for ahead