Back cover: The writer is a Jungian psychoanalyst and cantadora (keeper of the old stories), of many years standing. She reveals how within every woman there lives a Wild Woman, filled with passionate creativity and ageless knowing – but repressed for centuries by a value system that trivializes emotional truth, intuitive wisdom and instinctual self-confidence. Dr Estés’s extraordinary and enriching bestseller shows how, through her foremost interpretation of story and her psychological commentary, we can reclaim, and rejoice in, our true feminine power – how we can awaken within the depths of our souls one who is both magic and medicine.
Someone recommended this book to me, because of one of the stories that features in the book: The Skeleton Woman. She also told me to watch this adaptation of the story.
The first time I saw it, it was very spooky and unnerving. It’s almost as if something deep inside my soul was stirring and awakening. I dare you to watch it!
Some of the other stories that Estés touches on also feels somewhat familiar. Bluebeard is very similar to the fairy tale “Beauty and the Beast”. Not the Disney version though.
Also The Red Shoes also seems very familiar almost as if I’ve heard or seen the story before. Or maybe it is because when I was a little girl I had a pair of red boots once. I loved those boots. In The Red Shoes the herione becomes obsessed with a pair of red shoes, mostly because it is taken away from her.
Estés uses the wolf as a methaphor because according to her “healthy wolves and healthy women share certain psychic characteristics: playful spirit, devotion, strength but also hunted and harassed.”
The only thing that bothered me about these types of books is that with the last 100 pages you start resenting it. There is just too much information to work through. It took me a month to finish this book.
Apparently this book is meant for a study group or a book club, something you can read and reread over a long period of time.
First published: 1992
I decided not to do Napowrimo this year.
I am thinking of trying to write a villanelle. If you’ve never wrote a villanelle, they are really hard.
Some people are lucky. It’s just 1-2-3 and they have a masterpiece.
Not me. It’s probably going to take a while.
Who remembers watching this show when you we’re a kid in the 90’s? There was always this random guy popping up whenever the two dogs did something stupid.
Awwww.. isn’t that cute?
BUT IT’S WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!
Does this remind you of someone?
I was reminded of this random character in the first few weeks at my new job. Every time I did something wrong, my boss would look at me as if to say:
Awwww, isn’t that cute?
BUT IT’S WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ek was altyd mal oor die kinderstories wat ons op TV gekyk het toe ek nog klein was. Nils Holgersson was my gunsteling kinder TV-reeks.
Ek het laas jaar by ‘n boekuitverkoping op die vertaling van Nils Holgersson afgekom en dit dadelik gekoop.
Groot was my verbasing toe ek die boek begin lees en besef dit stem nie ooreen met my herinneringe nie.
Daar is nou wel baie verskille tussen die boekstorie en die TV-storie. Die grootste verskil is dat Krummel glad nie in die boek voorkom nie. Dit blyk dat die Japannese wat die TV animasie geskep het, daardie storie element ook geskep het.
Van die ganse se name is ook anderster. Ek onthou die TV-reeks is daar Gunar, Gustar, Ingrid, Lasse en Siri. Donsveertjie is sommer Donsie en Martien is Maarten.
Smirre is darem in die boek – of eintlik net in die eerste helfte.
Agtergrond: Selma Lagerlöf (1858 – 1940), Sweedse skrywer, onderwyser en eerste vroulike wenner van die Nobelprys vir Letterkunde.
Sy het “Nils Holgersson” in opdrag van die Nasionale Onderwyser Assosiasie geskryf – hulle wou spesifiek ‘n geografie boek vir kinders hê.
Die boek is in 1906 gepubliseer. Dit was oorspronklik as twee boeke gepubliseer; die eerste in 1906 en die tweede in 1907.
Sy het baie ander werke ook geskryf, alhoewel “Nils Holgersson” die mees bekendste is.
Die Japannese TV-animasie reeks is in 1980 geskep. Die regie is gedoen deur Hisayuki Toriumi (1941 – 2009) van Studio Pierrot, Tokio. Die studio bestaan nou nog
Dié reeks is later aangepas en in die volgende lande gewys: Arabië, Kanada, Frankryk, Duitsland, Swede, Finland, Iran, Ysland, België, Griekeland, Nederland, Poland, Portugal, Romenië, Spanje, Slovenië, Hongarye, die Sjeggiese Republiek, Israel, Turkye, Italië, Hong Kong, China, Suid-Afrika en Albanië.
Ek beveel hierdie boek vir enigiemand aan. 5/5
I think social media has created confusion on what the word “friend” means. Let me try to make it clearer.
A Facebook friend is someone who likes and comments on your posts. Who tags you when they upload a photo of you.
A Facebook friend thinks that by following your profile means that they are actively involved in your life.
A Facebook friend is someone who tells you “Happy Birthday” on your wall, but only when Facebook tells them that it is your birthday.
A Facebook friend is someone who you might have been close to earlier in your life but you have moved apart from.
A Facebook friend is someone who was really your friend once and promised to stay your friend forever no matter what, promised that you will never lose touch.
A friend is someone who really cares about you and makes time for you. They will actually call you or message you or even come over to your house.
A friend is someone who knows your birthday and that you hate receiving flowers or plants as gifts.
A friend is someone who accepts you for who you are, but are not afraid to tell you when you are wrong.
A friend is someone who won’t reject or unfriend you.
So, you can just be my Facebook Friend or you can be my real friend. The choice is yours.
I have a confession to make: I could never understood why we make such a big fuss when it is someone’s birthday.
It’s only fun when you’re a kid growing up. Once you reach adulthood it’s somewhat overrated.
I wonder if Jesus ever celebrated his birthday? Maybe there is a reason why we don’t know Jesus’s exact birthday?
I also could never say “Happy Birthday” and mean it at the same time. But what does it actually mean?
Are we actually just saying: Well done! You’re one year older. Big whoop.
Who wants to live forever? I don’t. Who wants to grow older? I don’t. Celebrating birthdays is against everything the world and society stands for. Just look at all the anti-ageing products on the shelf.
Or maybe we’re saying: Congratulations, I am happy to have you in my life.
But I only see or hear from some of my friends on their birthdays. So… basically they are not really in my life… so what is the point?
There are people who believe that when you tell someone “Happy Birthday” your good wishes will keep them from harm. Which is actually bullshit, a superstition – nobody is that powerful.
What is the history of birthday celebrations?
Well, apparently the Egyptians and Greeks were the first people to celebrate birthdays – but only the days of the gods.
Romans were the first to celebrate their birthdays – well actually just the men. Women only joined the party in the 12th century.
It was originally considered a pagan ritual – until Christians decided to celebrate the birth of Jesus.
But a lot of people see birthdays as the celebration of the self or self-worship.
If it is done for the right reasons and when you are really in my life, I will celebrate my or your birthday with you. Otherwise, I’m not interested.
balderdash, drivel, poppycock, rigmarole, bombast, claptrap, malarkey, hogwash, flummery, hokum, fudge, flimflam, baloney, hooey, bilge, horsefeathers, tomfoolery, tommyrot…
They are all fun ways to express a state of
It’s also interesting to see when the words came into use for example balderdash was first used in 1590, poppycock in 1865, malarkey (1929), hogwash (1440!) and my favourite, bilge in 1510.
Here are some Afrikaans words: bog, snert, onsin, twak, kaf.
Can you think of more fun words?
I always wondered what the fuss was all about when people talked about Moby Dick. I also wondered why would anyone call their book by that name. It is only later when I found out that it is the name of the whale.
I took out the book last year during vacation and it wasn’t what I expected.
I can understand why most people find this book so tiring. There are just an endless supply of poetry in the prose. What I mean by that is there is descriptive language everywhere. Most of the time I zoned out wishing the author would get to the point. Dialogue only starts on page 13!
Honestly I can’t remember the last time I hated reading a book so much. I just wanted to finish it. Sometimes I couldn’t figure out who was telling the story. The moment when Ishmael steps upon the whaling ship it’s as if he just disappears.
Then some chapters actually read like a biology book: going into detail about the anatomy and history of whales.
If you don’t care to know how they used to hunt, catch and slaughter whales then this book is not for you.
You get the sense that when Captain Ahab and Moby Dick the White Whale meet again it will lead to everyone’s doom.
What I did like about the book: I liked Ishmael’s first meeting with Queequeg, the cannibal harpooneer. Those chapters plus the last three were really the only parts of the book I enjoyed.
First published: 1851
Interesting fact: Turns out the fictional white whale got his name from a real notorious albino whale known as Mocha Dick.
*note: Really well-written, but I struggled to work through all those descriptions and detail.
Conclusion: Herman Melville was a dick and his book a pain in the ass.
My hair seriously needs saving.
For normal people it would be a no-brainer. Just pick up the phone and make an appointment.
But for a person with anxiety with a trich addiction, not so much.
How do I explain to a stranger why I have so many split hairs?
This might sound weird to you, but yes I like pulling out my hair. I even like cleaning my brush every morning.
I’m afraid the hairdresser is going to say that she can’t save my hair, that my hair is beyond saving. That it will be better to just shave it off and wear a wig for the rest of my life.
It’s actually very frustrating, putting my life on hold because I’m afraid. I always think up the worst scenarios. Obviously that doesn’t help with my anxiety.
The moment when I have to make contact with the outside world and step out of my comfort zone I go into a frenzy.
I finally worked up the courage just to send a WhatsApp message. She’ll let me know. Phew!