The Goddess Willow
If you check in with this blog from time to time you know I like making up stories about the goddesses, none of whom I have ever met. I look at sets of Dave’s and Emma’s photos until something catches my eye and suggests a tale, and I take off from there.
With Wisdom it was that magnificent old tree and her playful and flirtatious posing. With Amalie, Shanti, and Maia it was beautiful portraits. With Asparte it was the tugboat behind her and knowing that the tug captain would certainly be checking her out with binoculars, which you can’t see in any photo, but which Emma confirmed to be true. With Ripple it was the spirituality evident in her adornment and dance.
Today I came upon Willow, and there is so much that is suggestive in her photos that I could easily have dreamed up a story about her. Instead, I became intrigued in a different way.
Willow’s tale seems to be one in which truth, wherever that lies, is stranger—more interesting—than fiction. Who is this woman?
Look at the wealth and detail of Willow’s tattoos. I’m dying to know what the winged A, or possibly V, on her right wrist stands for, or maybe it’s not a letter at all. Look at the beauty of her forms. Willow is an artist, and her body is her canvas. I am particularly impressed that she decided not to use color in her tattoos. It would have distracted from and diminished the beauty of her designs. Here is a woman with taste.
And Willow doesn’t stop there. She includes three scars in her decorations, and scars like these are not easy to come by, by which I do not mean that they are painful to acquire, though I’m sure they are. What I mean is that there are a variety of methods to scarify, and it takes considerable skill to create scars that are as regular and controlled as Willow’s. I am horrified and fascinated by them, but even though I am shocked I notice how beautifully they meld with the plants that grow around them.
Willow is, clearly, not a woman who does things by halves; she does them by threes or twos, as evidenced by the black rings piercing her labia.
I want to state, explicitly, that I do not show this picture to titillate. If you feel that way so be it—there’s nothing wrong with that—but Willow has made her body a work of art that she takes most seriously, and I think she would want all of her art be seen. She probably has few opportunities to display her life’s work in its entirety.
And if you think you’ve seen it all, guess again. Look at this gloriously tree with its leaves, branches, bark and roots. What incredible detail, and I love the tree’s placement—the clear field upon which it is drawn. The tree is alone, as one sometimes finds in the midst of a farmer’s field. It is a tree that grows with undisturbed majesty.
For completeness I show the back of Willow’s right arm and the plant that grows there, and I admit I’m not oblivious to Willow’s breasts, which are also a delight.
What is this sword? Where did it come from? What does it represent? Why did Willow choose it? I don’t believe its choice was an accident; it must be symbolic. Who is she angry with? What does she want to cut off or to cut herself off from?
There are 1,162 photos of Willow on HippieGoddess, and two things struck me about them. One is that Willow is frequently looking directly at the camera—at her viewers. She communicates that she wants to engage us. I like that.
The second is that in the total collection of over a thousand photographs there are only a few, perhaps only two or three, in which Willow is smiling. I do not draw conclusions from this, but I wonder: is she unhappy, serious, private, or something else?
I searched over a thousand photos to pick a portrait of Willow. A smile would have been uncharacteristic, but I suspect there is more to this woman than is suggested by her single-minded seriousness. Therefore I selected this last photo, in which there is enigma.
Portrait of Willow as Mona Lisa.
There are many goddesses to look at on HippieGoddess, and in fantasy I want to meet many of them. Actually, in fantasy I have. But in real life Willow is my first choice.