Scaring Myself Wild

Life and I have been dancing to a fugue in E minor, repeating themes rising to haunt me and then retreating into darkness. And the darkness calls to me, reminding how great longing challenges us to surrender to the path before us.

I have to admit I wondered if I could feel that depth of longing again, the craving that led me to spiritual adventures deep in wild forests. Sometimes over the past year I felt like a vacuum cleaner entered my soul and emptied it of any sense of beauty or love. Could I space in the tumble and tangle of daily life to yearn so deeply I thought I would tear in two? Or had I left that behind as I lifted the responsibilities of jobs and family and commitments?

Everyone told me that nature abhors a void and the time would fill the emptiness. But nature and time seemed to be busy elsewhere. It was an old friend who told me that I need to find my Mojo and, as the Mad Hatter said to Alice, my “muchness.” He told me his memory of me with a pack on my back, looking over my shoulder at him saying “come on, we can do this” even though we both knew I was afraid. He remembered my wildness, even if I did not.

For the past several months wildness has inserting itself in such odd places. While lifting weights or training for a ½ marathon I can see a world full of options before me. I can choose to leave or to stay; I can run away or embrace; I can move toward something as soon as I move away from illusions and scars that never did really defined me.

That sounded amazing, and challenging, and terrifying. But honestly, emptiness was getting boring, and filling me with the fear that I would never be full of love and laughter and light and wonder. I had been feeling like a ship at sea with no navigational information. All I could do was steer away from the danger buoys and warning lights. It seemed like a safe and perhaps even wise choice. But I was headed nowhere and steering based on my fears.

My family often told me I would “out-grow” my craving for life and my longing for the touch of G-d on my heart. They said the fire that drove me would be tamed and my wildness would be trimmed. And I would be safe so they would not be frightened. But honestly, wildness is still my favorite color.

So I changed my sailing plan, and steered towards the warnings and lights and all that I feared. I breathed in the wind and danced to the rhythm of the waves, and followed my fears where ever they led. My soul began to fill with wonder and desire and passion and laughter. My adventures started so very small, but quickly expanded. My soul not only filled, but it also expanded, as I sailed into the adventure and away from the safety of the shore.

And, without fan-fare or fuss, there it was, that deep hollow in my heart that called and chanted and sang and drummed and danced and whispered. That still small voice invited me back on the journey, without any rules, codicils or addendums. Just a door that opened before me, a wind that blew through me, a scent that captivated me, and a sense that this journey has been waiting for me all along. And I am beyond delighted.

Amazingly, I discovered a new type of navigational tool…scaring myself wild. I highly recommend it.

2 thoughts on “Scaring Myself Wild

  1. Loved reading this one! Your way with words amazes me and with much intrigue!
    Keep it going, live reading your words!

    1. Thanks Diane! I am building a new life as a writer and your words are so very helpful!

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