I am WILD. Not because I have tapped into some old energy while comfortably sipping on green tea kale smoothies after a generous but not too exhausting class of kundalini yoga. Neither am I WILD because I went to a trance workshop and learned to rise my vibrant female energy and I am certainly not WILD through quiet meditation on some healing 528hz tunes, although I must confess, I have tried them all and some have even become part of my regular routine. Also, I am not WILD because I am wearing handmade dresses from tribal textiles and I smell of patchouli and decide not to die my silver turning hair. I am WILD because I have to protect, at all cost, something that I’ve just found and which I dearly treasure: myself.
I am WILD with pain at having to adjust, compromise and keep myself back because I think that would keep me safe. I am WILD from anger at having kept myself small, not expressing my thoughts and keeping it all normal, shaping for decades my actions to the mould of already existing ones. I am WILDly exhausted by my countless thoughts of how I could fit better, how could I stop looking, feeling, being different and by my continuous striving to be always perceived kind and lovable. But I am also WILD with passion for things I cannot yet clearly identify but which I feel growing strong inside, I am WILD with a sense of justice which makes me protect the weak and explain the misunderstood, I am WILD with a yearning for beauty which stems from the core of who I am. And yes, I am WILD with love for these forces that keep me alive, which make me dance to ever-new tunes.
I am WILD and in my veins cascades the blood of my ancestors, the tears of all the people I was touched by and the rain of several continents – I run these waters through me and cry them out, sweating the labour of countless eyes looking in other pairs of eyes. My bones tell me of my WILD effort to stand tall, be it in the face of storms or reaching for more sunshine, not my effort – but that of countless generations of males and females, of animals and plants. My sinews are keeping me WILD and together but also take the form of hanging lianas in the tropical forests, reminding me that I belong there where I need to, that I am free to move if I need to, that I can sustain but also let loose.
I am WILD because I am getting old and know, and feel, that time is getting even shorter. I feel I must be wise, as never do we step in the same river twice. I am WILD and I am brave. Even when I feel fear strangling me, I am melting away while my muscles tense up, I stand in what I feel, I do not judge myself for it and WILDly run forward. I will go to that meeting, I will get things done, I will get out of bed, I will say my own truth, because I am WILD: determined and steadfast, terribly stubborn.
I am WILD because I have not nourished myself enough and now I feel depleted. Because I forgot to remove the weeds from in between the useful plants and I feel now taken over. I am WILD because I need to protect that which is good for me right now– now that I can confidently make this distinction, remember it as valuable and keep it clean.
I am WILD because this is my nature, the sound of the tiger’s roar, the hardness of the bear’s claw and the soft but sure touch of the elephant’s hoof, all in one. I am WILD as the nettles are and of the same nature of fragrant tropical magnolias. I am both strongly rooted as a burdock plant and dependent as a rare orchid. Most importantly, I am all these things at once, gentle aggression and unimaginable tenderness. Ambiguity is my fertile soil.
I am WILD because I cry at night and laugh at day and cradle myself and comfort others. I am WILD because I do not need company, but keep my own, but love being with others, and sharing, and I do talk to plants and animals and stones and they always talk back. I am WILD as the rain gets me alive and the sun kindles my heart. I am WILD as I pray and I charm. I remain humble but proud, WILDly standing in my own circle of growth.
Written by Caro.