The Call of The Wild

The natural state. The one that instantly connects. Brings you back. It’s been too ‘every-day’ of late. I’ve lost the natural breath and I’m holding it. I know, as every time I’ve closed my eyes and kissed my lover, I've seen trees. Green and lush. Whether it’s just his natural Air speaking a no-word language to me or it’s a reminder of a place I was last free and at peace, doesn’t matter, to me it’s one and the same. The wilderness and the wild in me intertwine, and a pull makes me take action. Too many tall grey buildings and what they represent affecting my energy, though I swore it wouldn’t. I feel trapped. Back in the hamster wheel of an endless, pointless, day in day out motion make the constellations in me rage against the monotony of colorless imagination on how to create a meaningful society, but I know my rage is but a reaction within me. The fixed inbreath fixed on fixation. So I make it a habit to go out underneath the cold nights’ stars. Breathe in the stardust that reminds me of origin, of home, the cocoon-like ease it brings knowing I’m not even born yet, out here where cosmos is so visible, the wisdom on how everything breathes together, and the restless Soul is comforted and eased. Breathing out then deeply somewhere between the New Moon rising along with Venus, surrendering again into where I have arrived at. He tastes like Stardust. Thank gOd. Shifting gears, after the total dissolving, letting go everything, surrendering, throwing physical things out, not clinging to any attachment, owning close to nothing, no past, anticipating no future, entertaining no ego-illusory story of the mind, back to step one; then the instant shift that followed, that it’s enough, the innocent child with the wisdom now of an adult who has seen s(t)o (o) much, being kicked back into the World; rebuild, touch down, find home, stabilize, have structure and never ever lose your independence again at the same time. Erased all feeling from former wounds, though not the memory of them, the Spirit ever so much younger though the body older and worn. Roaming free means something new entirely, the emotions you thought would imprison you have transcended into joy, they can never harm you, you are free. You are a new born to this world rising for you again. Use your time wisely. Be daring, be bold, but now knowing yourself how will you express? How will you live? The Fixed Inbreath objects wildly. The pull of too many diverse wants of expression. Balance needed. Objecting to the model of decorum and tranquility; the collective’s expectation of how to express Sacred Feminine? I’m not a Wolf nor Flower, I am the Eagle, I am me. The Moon child. The Happy go lucky. Can I just stop defining and be? Is the irritation a reaction within me? Called out to the Sacred place, to bathe uninterruptedly in the Sun, my tears tell me I’ve been away for too long. The Well has dried up, though I longed for her Water to cleanse this state, but tears are water all the same. Here I am nothing and everything at the same time. In the now Winter naked space of the Sacred Union Circle, I see Her part is wet again. Perhaps it’s where the Water went. She has regained her strength and I am being given back my offering to her as a token and gesture of cyclical karma. Her strength is in that ring now, and I get to wear it. We are somehow exchanging vows. I pledge to marry the new, to be always wed to Mother Earth in my own expression of Femininity, thus I carry the World Mother in me as she carries me. Reconnection. The whispers on the Wind, the embrace, the union, the answer to my confusion. Peace comes at last. Stability and structure are the new building blocks, the merging with another soul, the commitment, the sharing of hearts, it’s still a journey. The journey goes ever on. Even one with roots, family and home, daily routines, co- existing with the mad, the wild, the free, the untamable. Breath comes back to its mutable rhythm. I see all the women I am, the Young, the Old, the Wise, the Mother, the Freyja. The latter make me see myself through his eyes. The rocks he piled mourning my many deaths; the rock balancing act. The constant cycle of life-death-rebirth of this transformative journey our love-relationship offers us. I did die a hundred times since I met him. The karmic layers being peeled off. I hope he knows these deaths are necessary and priceless, they cannot be activated without the right trigger. That his presence, tireless trust and hope for me have made me shed layer after layer of limitation and fear and made me come back to a life that is true. A life that honors me. He could not have given me a greater gift. A Fall cannot come without first a Summer. A whole life of not dying is hardly worth living. The Winter delivers the Spring. It was always so. How simple and easy it is to understand life when connected to Earth. The peace it brings. I must get out more often. Perhaps bring people to cross their own inner bridges... It’s time to give back the gesture.