I've been thinking this last week about the Irish tale of Mis. Her father was murdered and she went mad with grief, flew away and became a creature of the wild. She grew feathers and dreadlocks and hunted for food with her sharp talons.
The story goes that she could not be tempted to rejoin humankind with money nor food but by seeing the manhood of the gentle harper Dubh Ruis. He was so kind to her and every time they made love she became more and more human, less a wild creature. Eventually she felt ready to go with him back to society.
This aspect of the wild feminine is very dear to my heart. I see in Mis the post-traumatic stress I have experienced myself, the reduction to purely animal instincts for survival. As Dubh Ruis tempted her closer and closer with the promise of love I see the whites of her eyes, the way she would have her escape route planned out should it all go wrong. I see also the way that loving touch and connection is the best way to heal the wounds of the past. How patience and a pure heart wins the day.
I like to think she still stayed a bit wild. Maybe she kept a few feathers, or dreadlocks. Maybe she never got used to wearing shoes. Maybe she would go and howl at the full moon when everybody else was sleeping. Trauma changes you forever, and sometimes those changes are a gift, too.
Amazing dress by @mystonecircle
Stunning photography credit @_lifewithmelly_
