the ugly earring

ug‧ly [uhg-lee] offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance

Category: woman

forget yourself a few times and see where it gets you

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So, Sister, forget yourself a few times and see where it gets you:
Up the creek, alone with your talent, sans everything else.
You can wait for the menopause, and catch up on your reading.
So primp, preen, prink, pluck, and prize your flesh,
All posturings! All ravishment! All sensibility!
Meanwhile, have you used your mind today?
What pomegranate raised you from the dead,
Springing, full-grown, from your own head, Athena?

image: here
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the more she hides and abandons her femininity

woman

“For me, a woman who is absorbed in her work, who does not care about gaining one’s favour, strong yet subtle at the same time, is essentially more seductive. The more she hides and abandons her femininity, the more it emerges from the very heart of her existence.”

― Yohji Yamamoto

this image: unfortunately cannot find the source.

 

woman as a river between

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I am sand. My eyes grainy, tears brown,
and what of the different tones of bees or flies,
how a sting can kill us?

I’m speaking the language of smokers,
lung-full and wary, breathing a refinery chore,
my eyes black pits, Historically

I was fruit, voluptuous and campy, some might say
exotic, cheekbones native, my hips swaying.

image: here
poem: woman as a river between borders, sheryl luna

a rebozo

“Silk rebozos worn with the best dress – de gala, as they say.
Cotton rebozos to carry a child, or to shoo away the flies.
Devout rebozos to cover one’s head with when entering
church. Showy rebozos twisted and knotted in the hair with
flowers and silver hair ornaments. The oldest, softest rebozos
worn to bed. A rebozo as cradle, as umbrella or parasol, as
basket when going to market, or modestly covering the blue veined
breast giving suck.”

image: just one of the amazing from here
text: from Caramelo Sandra Cisneros

living

“I have known the joy and pain of friendship. I have served and been served. I have made some good enemies for which I am not a bit sorry. I have loved unselfishly, and I have fondled hatred with the red-hot tongs of Hell. That’s living.”

image of Zora Neale Hurston (and her hands!) by Carl Van Vechten

spilling rubies

“Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.”

image: susu laroche
text: Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With The Wolves: Contacting The Power Of The Wild Woman

and had been

She was not ugly or absurd, in herself, only a little dried and hollowed, with straw hair tightly and tastelessly curled, and skin somewhat roughened, as if she had been for a long time facing a harsh wind. There was no blood in her cheeks, and something like dust lay over her face. People who looked at her knew that she was old, and had been old always.

image: here
text: Alice Munro’s first story
(thank you erica lorraine)