The Beginning of Wild

There isn't too much I want to say about this right now, but I do want to state my intention for a new kind of exploration. I've been wanting to, needing to, get in touch with my writers mind on a way bigger level. I've spent years dipping in and out of commitments to this practice. I know it's real love because it has not faded. Writing is not a phase and it always shows back up with open arms. That doesn't meant that sometimes it isn't a little grumpy with my failure to notice it or my wistful, lustful desire that burns out like a match, but eventually it always lights the candle and I continue journeying on into its humble and beautiful embrace.

I've decided to take a gander down the aisle of wild because it is something I'm curious about and confused about, and, perhaps more on the mark, it is something I found myself face to face with earlier this year. I had a breakup that sent me tailspinning into some wild territory. I admit the intensity of it caught me by surprise--bless, I do hope I get to make a proper amends someday--but within the throws of my insanity came some, dare I say, gifts. First off, I don't know what love loss is like for ya'll, but it became very apparent to me that loss over here might fully bring up loss over there. Not to mention it came during a time when I had lost father number 2. Nonetheless, there feels like an honoring to the short beauty of this strange and mythical experience and relationship that wants to be addressed.

The first honoring came in the maniacal writing of an essay which is as of yet unpublished, though hopefully this new declaration to wild will push this baby through. I kept trying to understand what the writing is even about but now I think it has to do with being wild. Grief makes you wild. So does love. And what does wild really even mean? I actually don't know. I could tell you what the dictionary says, I could tell you what it means to feel free on a dance floor, but how many times do I corral my dog back to the curl because he wants to walk in front of traffic? He is wild because he doesn't care about the rules we've decided upon as humans, though I like him alive so I enforce said traffic rule. But also, he knows where the door is and he makes no mistakes when it comes to feeding time, so wild can be quite subjective, I think.

In any event, I really don't know what wild is on a visceral level because I live in a city and there are many, many social rules on tops of the other ones. So perhaps this is my both public--it's on the internet-- and private--no one knows this exists, yet--to say that I am on a journey into the wild unknown. And again, this comes as a nod to the ways life's strange lessons lead you to many uncharted and previously unsought after places. So thank you, creature of this world, and thank you spirits of the other world, and thank you to the words that seek me because without you I am lost, I am astray, I am on my knees in the dark trying to make sense of an unkept world. Words are the only ways I can find my way back to land and something that passes for internal safety, and definitely it connects me to my number 1 deceased father.

Wild is free, so here we go.