Plexiglass Princess

The king of that country had a beautiful daughter and had decreed that whoever would marry her must climb a glass mountain to win her. She sat on the mountain with three golden apples in her lap; whoever took them would marry her and get half the kingdom.

Repression confused as love and duty resulting in a fear of flying, fear of the wild, fear of change, fear of wholeness, fear of power.  Nothing without the definition and damage of a noble birth.

Sick of that story.  Time to escape.  Out of the tower, off the glass mountain.  No slaying dragons, we are the dragons.  No rescuing princes either.  There is no happily ever after.  The golden apples cannot be given away.  They are the only now we will ever have.    

Build our own tower, palace, kingdom.  With plenty of doorways and stairways and come and go of all kinds.  No oubliettes or trap doors.  No growing up in the shape of a princess-sized box.  Never trust a small person telling us to be small.  Go big!  Big enough to shatter mountains.  

No shame, no penance, no earning our right to exist.  It is the evilest spell, the wickedest poison, to turn us against our own bodies, our own wisdom.  To make us believe we are someone else’s prize.