The Myth of the She Wolf

Have you ever heard the myth of La Loba? Let me share it with you. 


As the tale goes, there once was an old, ragged woman who lived in the desert caves of the New Mexican desert. She spent her nights searching for the bones of animals, especially wolves, who have long passed from this world. She had a surprisingly strong, burly voice and after she collected the bones she would return to her cave and sing to them. And as she sang, her life and passion and joy would settle into their bones until alas, they leapt back to life! The dead wolf, now a live wolf, would run into the desert night, turning into a beautiful woman, disappearing into the horizon.


I admit this may seem like an odd way of sharing with you my current life situation but here, let me explain. You see, tomorrow evening I begin a new Journey, a great Adventure, a long Expedition into the Adirondack Mountains. My job? Working with teenage girls who have much pain. I will be leading a group of eight girls, every other week, into the their worst nightmare; woods, bugs, nor mirrors, no bathrooms and dun dun dun... no cell phones. And to be quite honest with you, I am absolutely ecstatic! My goal, with the resources and support of this wilderness therapy program, is to care for them in a way that brings transformation. I will love while challenging, I will listen and speak when necessary, and I will teach while learning. 


And I plan on singing loudly! Ok not literally, for I am the first to admit my mediocre voice, but with the strength I receive from my family and community and the Truth that fills me daily. . . 

When I was a loaf of bones, dried out

Gathering my bones like loose fruit -

sure she had all those precious seeds -

she carried me in her arms back to her cave.

My eye socket saw that dim heaven

like a star that one can’t find a second time.

When my last limb was set down I shone

like a white carving in front of a breathless fire.

La Loba raised her small arms and sang softly.

The sage burned stronger. I felt my bones

swell like a river as the flesh began to spread

over them, along the belly and lips, rippling

on my spine, softly, above the dust.

And the touch of it, amazed - hand on hip,

both touch and thought as I felt my body stretch.

The old woman sang louder and I saw colours,

a glowing orange or a black cinder, a tongue

that leapt above me and said, This is passion,

red as a heart. My hands reached upwards,

as if towards a heaven sensed in the air.

Louder and louder the music moved me

and swept through my lungs like a wish.

I rose from the bald dust with a memory.

Still I heard the song but saw no-one

only my still legs and white arms. Looking up,

I saw the song float like smoke above me.

It chanted so deeply, as if the earth had sighed.

Wrapping my arms around my body I opened

my mouth as the sound moved closer.

It sang to my breath and it sang to my hips,

breaking over me like a host of prayers.

And as it came in luminous bursts

through the desert, from death,

I heard it was coming from my mouth.

-By Leanne O'Sullivan

Love and Peace, La Loba

My address for the next week is 82 Church St Saranac Lake, NY 12983

As soon as I can I will be getting a P.O. box and plan on sharing it with you!

she told the mountains that I was alive.