Wild Things
Return to what is true…
You were wild once…
There is something we have forgotten… I think we spend so much of our lives being tamed… we smooth our edges, quiet our instincts, shrink the parts of us that feel too hard to explain…
Wildness doesn’t disappear... It waits…
The instinct is always there…
I am learning… slowly, imperfectly… to trust my own wild nature again… to follow the pull… to honor the instinct before the explanation… to live in the mystery
It is not always comfortable…. But… there is a kind of freedom in it that nothing else offers… the freedom of being exactly what you are, without apology, without performance, without the exhausting labor of pretending otherwise.
Run with the wolves…
Return to your wild self… the one who knew things before taught to doubt them…
A poem…
I Don’t Know... I don’t know what my life is. I don’t know what I’m doing… I feel very very alone, but I don’t want to be with anybody. I don’t know if I’m talented. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know if anyone loves me. I don’t know if I can get through today I don’t know what I’m doing here… I don’t know what my purpose is. I don’t know if I’m beautiful. I don’t know if I’m just falling apart. I don’t know if I’m mentally stable. I don’t know if all that has been done to me has taken its toll I don’t know what anything means anymore I don’t know how to process my life I don’t know how to get over my grief, my shame, my mistakes... I don’t know if anyone forgives me. I don’t know if I forgive anyone. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong I don’t know if I’ve been a good mother, a good wife or a good friend I don’t know if I’m a good cook or a good lover. If I knew even a couple of these things… would I feel better…? I don’t know.
Love,
P
This is beautifully raw and honest. My heart is sending yours a warm embrace. Here's to becoming untamed! A few years ago, going though a rough patch, i wrote a version of this I want to share with you.
I know the sky still opens...even when I don’t look up.
I know silence can be medicine.
I know the wind touches my skin without asking who I’ve been.
I know stars burn for millions of years and never demand to be understood.
I know that breathing is enough sometimes…a soft agreement with existence.
I know grief is a teacher made of water, reshaping stone one drop at a time.
I know shame dissolves in light, not through answers but through compassion.
I know love hides in ordinary corners…a dog’s gaze, the warmth of tea, the courage to speak even one truth aloud.
I know we are being carried, every moment, by something vast and rhythmic.
It knows us, even when we don’t.
And I know... not knowing is its own kind of peace in motion.
Dear P,
You are good enough, you matter and you are loved
🤍