Reading it, breathlessly many times, I felt this book took me back through a tunnel of time, to moments of gut wrenching angst, deep questioning or immense joy, to crossroads where a force larger than what I can explain pushed me in the direction or progress and good and left me feeling, in my bones, the two words that have now become such a feminist statement: #metoo.
Before we know it … a day turned into a week, a month and one day we remember we had started something good way back in the day but fell off the wagon. This is when, ashamed and unenergised, we reach the crossroads between the trap of magic thinking and the power of one step.
My ritual of tuning out joy started when I was very young, probably quite oblivious to what I was actually doing. Like a magic formula, I made myself shut the door in its face each time joy came knocking, foolishly believing that if I pretended I did not hear anyone at the door, the panic in its wake will disappear too.
I find real connection with fellow beings to be wonderful and exciting and I look for it in every person I interact with. It is both my strength and my Achille’s heel. I don’t understand the meaning of our lives on this planet if we aren’t going to function as what we actually are: one. Connected.
There is a small voice inside that always, always knows. When we get silent, cut out the noise of other people’s standards, expectations and demands, this voice becomes loud and clear and leads you to unimaginable rainbows.
Females (again, of any species studied) don’t fight or flight. They tend and befriend. They take care of their tribe (and other tribes for that matter) and build belonging.