Wild Creature

A mystic is a wild creature.

She is made. She is deliberately forged by something mysterious. She is created for a purpose. She spends all her life seeking, for there is nothing else worth doing. She peers and gazes until she falls from the edge of the world, and into the next. Over and over.

Each time she returns, she is a little different. What she sees must change her. She dies every day. She is reborn in every moment.  Can you even begin to fathom the terror and the faith commanded from such a being? Can you even begin to understand what such a life can do?

Don’t date a mystic, if you want the life you have. If you are comfortable and cozy, stay away. Whatever you have built around yourself to create comfort: it cannot stand in the blazing fire of a mystical woman. She is no trophy. She is no bodily pleasure-maker. She is the seer of souls.

She is the womb that births the divine into the flesh and bone of matter.

She doesn’t mean to burn your village to the ground, but she has seen what you are meant to become. You are not a peasant shearing sheep, as you have thought. You are a king dressed in rags who has amnesia.

It is her assumption that you have come to be reborn. If you haven’t, turn back now, while the world you know still exists.

If she touches you, and all the voices on the wind go silent, if you feel you are in a snow globe when you embrace her, she is your destroyer. She will destroy the false idol you see in the mirror. She will smash it open because it is your prison. If you wish to stay there, she will shatter you another way. She will leave.

A mystic may not for long engage with that which is too small for her, unless she is nurturing a seedling into its destiny. But the seed must be capable of fulfilling its own potential.

Everybody wants the magic, but nobody wants the Mystery, the schooling: a thing that must be lived in a place where book knowledge has no meaning, for all books are manuals to the world you already know. That means, the well-honed intellect — the masculine theory of reason — will not save you, cannot free you. It is for a world whose time is over.

The Mystery, by its very nature, must show you what has never been seen, never been written, never been known, because before you were forged, it was impossible. The arts of women have been called the dark arts for too long, and they are the keys to infinity. Infinite form. Infinite being. Infinite life.

The art of far sight.
The art of inner knowing.
The art of sign-reading.
The art of deep feeling.
The art of song and circles.
The art of intuition.
The art of frequency translation.
The healing arts.
The art of kitchen witchery.
The art of communion.
The art of sacred story weaving.
The art of creation and manifestation.
And others too wild to name.

If your dreams are not filled with the Mystery, you are better off with a normal girl, because a mystic will see things that are invisible to you. She will feel things that you cannot feel beneath the layers of numbness you have wrapped yourself in.

She will call upon your true self, your real soul, and she will sing it down into you, into herself, and life will never be the same.

Fromhttp://www.rebellesociety.com/2014/12/21/why-you-should-date-a-normal-girl-versus-a-wild-mystic/

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“The right man will love all the things about you that the wrong man was intimidated by.” ~ unknown

Her beaming smile was the first thing that caught your eye. Or maybe it was the way she was covered in dirt and singing happily all on her own.

Whatever little thing it was that drew you in, soon your gaze and heart were captured by a wild- hearted woman.

She’s the type of woman who dances in the rain and swims naked under the moonlight.

She will stop everything to help an animal in distress and will fight alongside those who’ve been wronged.

She is strong and beautiful—and can be hard as hell to love.

Loving a wild-hearted woman means checking your ego at the door: know that you’ll never own her heart.

You see her heart is wild as she wanders on her own path letting the wind guide her way.

She believes in karma, crystals and good coffee.

She is a nomad, always stretching her wings and ready for the next adventure.

I am sure many people said trying to love a wild-hearted woman is a waste: we are too strong-willed, too much for any man. Many are intimated by us—by our strength, our intelligence, our fire.

Yet you followed your heart and set out to win the heart of this wild-hearted girl.

Where other men where intimated by her, you were awed. You loved her for her intelligence and strength.

Her fire made yours shine even brighter.

You recognize her need for solace yet are always there when the silence was overwhelming.

You never try to clip her wings, but sit with a calm and soothing presence when the flight gets too rocky.

Her roots are never firmly planted, her feet always ready for a new path.

Her heart craves the adrenaline of new adventures.

You stand beside her, never looking to lead or follow—you are simply her partner, her lover, her calm to a sometimes raging storm.

You seek to love her and never change her, only adding to her spark, to her flame.

You succeed where others failed because you never once judged her or wanted to change her.

You always embraced the wild, treasuring the rarity of a love like this.

You dared to love a wild hearted woman; in return you have a wild once-in-a-lifetime type of love.

From http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/07/what-it-means-to-love-a-wild-hearted-woman/