From the back cover: «This book is my glowing invitation to you – to live a rich, succulent life! I explore love, sexuality, romance, money, fat, fear and creativity. It’s a little bit like reading my diary – with permission. Succulence is power-full. And so are we as women.»
Succulent Wild Woman by SARK has got to be one of the strangest books I’ve ever read, to be quite honest. First of all, it’s written in handwriting, some of it in color, with small doodles here and there. If you’re a right brainer, you’ll probably love this playfulness. If you’re a left brainer – probably not so much, as it seems chaotic at times and not to mention that the book looks a lot thicker than it really is. It’s 184 pages long – but to be quite frank, with printed letters, it wouldn’t be half. At least it’s an easy read.
It does what it promises. It is just like reading a diary at times, with little anecdotes and histories. You even get to know the author’s number of orgasms using a vibrator. She holds nothing back.
This is somewhat liberating, as she doesn’t pretend to be something that she’s not. All her shadow sides come through, all her insecurities and fears and anxiety… everything. And this, in my opinion, is so extremely important to get access to the wild power within – not having to be this picture perfect loveliness of success in order to make it big in the world, but instead reaching down, inward, grabbing whatever is there and dancing with it.
On the other hand… Isn’t there enough anxiety and fears? I’m not sure I want to read about them, my heart is yearning for inspiration and fearless women to look up to. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m so comfortable with my own darker sides that it gets a little tedious to read about everybody else’s need of therapy. Not that I don’t find that interesting in and of itself, I love to read about psychology and different kinds of therapies – but not when I’m looking for inspiration to use in my own life.
If you’re still insecure about your shadows, this will be a great read. Then, she reaches you were you are, and takes you by the hand to show you a way out. I’m quite certain that you’ll find some healing in here. If not… it only serves to remind you of how bad the world is when you really should be moving towards a better one.
One other thing that bothers me, is that she seems to confuse radical self-acceptance with neglecting to fulfill the body’s natural need for nutrition and exercise. And I speak from experience, I used to be quite an adept in this kind of scenario. I did have cake for breakfast. I did watch exercising shows on TV, believing as hard as I could that the benefit lies in imagining myself doing it.
That did not bring me to self-acceptance. That brought me to a place of constant inflammation pains in my body, constant diarrhea, insomnia, mineral deficiency and a terrible experience of being literally mocked out of my job because I couldn’t perform and was sick too often. Do not go down that route. I repeat: Do NOT go down that route. It will not be OK.
Instead: practice your radical self-acceptance by making sure you give your body the nutrition, the rest and the activity it really needs, in spite of society trying to poison it in every chance it gets. Try bringing your own raw food cake to a party for the radical effect, or turn down wine for cranberry juice. You don’t need to hurt yourself to love you. Trust me.
I also miss reading about the true wildness. You know, the part where you go out in nature, eat wild and natural food, smell the dirt, connect with the elements and dance under the full moon sort of thing. She does have a part about sleeping under the stars, though, and I really liked that. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that she doesn’t get to the wild parts much. She deals with the hurting parts, where society has hurt her and many woman like her, but the wildness of it all, the one that should be fundamental and before the hurt… is disturbingly lacking in her text. It’s like she defines herself too much by named hurts, being mostly concerned about fixing and mending and healing, instead of digging deep down and past all that, to what was there before society.
The book has a few bright points, though. I found her tales about travelling alone truly inspiring. I might do just that one of those days. I feel the freedom just thinking about it, and I’ll admit to dreaming of a hotel room on my own quite often (you know, those lovely places where the bed makes itself up and someone makes you dinner without making you do the dishes afterwards). And the part about journaling made me want to grab mine and write my heart out – so yeah, there are some truly good inspirational nuggets in it.
Heck, I might even get myself a vibrator for my 36th birthday (which, incidentally, is today! *snickers*).
But will I be reading this book again?
No. I won’t.