How do tender little souls feel when they arrive on this planet and see what a balls up humans have made then try their darndest to fit or take shape or else just feel so lost and think what is this place? This prompts me to reblog this post from January.
I think it is a real sign of growth when we can weep for the child in us who never got to fully live, who often had to be buried or hidden deep inside or who was forced to don a disguise of coats of shame or soot and ashes to survive the invalidating, unfacilitating environment of childhood. Images of this soot covered slave or servant child appear in the book Leaving My Father’s House by therapist Marion Woodman. In it, along side stories from several of her client’s lives and psychological recovery stories, she shares a psychological interpretation of the fairy tale of Allerleirauh a young girl who running in flight from her family becomes a servant girl to the King, cooking in his kitchen a number of different soups.
In time in the course of this fairytale she attracts the King’s attention and dons three different dresses, the…
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Emerging From The Dark Night 