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Life is too short for boring stories

The flames raged violently skyward. I had kindled a big fire, here by my lake, on that special night, and they had come to celebrate together, all the special women. They did not ride on brooms, and there were no black ravens or black cats on their shoulders. But the animals had joined us, lying by the fire and feeling well. No, it was not wild and ecstatic dancing around the fire. The women sat or stood around the fire. They talked. Now and then you could hear a laugh. From time to time, a song was sung, and the meaning of the common band lay around us like an invisible bond, without constricting, just connecting. No, they were not all red-haired, but as different as women are, and yet they were similar in many ways.

It is the woman who sits down with you when you are lonely and gives you a word or even a common silence, but in the mere presence of you, frees you from deep loneliness.
It is the woman who listens to your story and helps you to understand, who does not point the way, but still helps you to find him.
It is the woman who takes your hand and helps you when you fall and you cannot get up.
It is the woman who cares for your wounds, the outer ones, like the inner ones that make you whole and healthy.
It is the woman who shows you the light again in the deepest darkness.
It is the woman who gives you warmth and hope in the bitterest cold.
It is the woman who accepts you, in all your imperfection and inadequacy.
It is the woman who welcomes you and allows you to be near, until you are ready to go out into the world again.
It is the woman who carries, supports and strengthens you.
It is the woman who does not value and does not punish, but leads you out of the confines of a supposed guilt and back to your possibilities.
It is the woman who, in her affection, is able to open her eyes to the essential.
It is the woman who can make life seem new to you in a single word, a gesture, a touch.

And when you go away from her, you forget what she has done for you, until you need her again, until she will be there for you again. You know that she will be there for you no matter how far you are from her, no matter how much time passes, she is there for you.

It does not count as long as you’re fine. Maybe you are a little bit ashamed sometimes when you think that you needed her help. Maybe you’re trying to erase that thought from your head. It was nothing more than a moment of weakness in which you let yourself be helped, in which you meant to depend on her, but now that you were well again, now you could not understand that it existed, this moment of weakness and openness. You are strong and independent. Never again would something like that happen to you. Never again would you depend on her or anyone else.

They talked quietly, the women, around the fire, and they knew how to help their powers and their possibilities. You would come back and she would be there for you.

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