you were wild once
Within my rib cage, there lives a bear.
And a wolf.
And a bird beating her wings.
Sometimes I find myself barely breathing;
Aching to know what it is to run again;
Lithe and wild through the night as the wolves do.
Noiseless. through the trees.
To remember again what it felt like to have hollow bones;
Gliding among the clouds and leaves.
I am well acquainted with the watchful, thundering bear.
Ample and laden with love and duty,
She lumbered from the mouth of the woods in the moment my first child was born.
I heard echoes of her thunder long before that day though;
Snapping branches behind me,
I knew she was there.
In the beginning, I thought the wolf would have to starve.
The bird would have to be tethered.
if I could only feed one, it would have to be the mama bear.
But I see now.
I see they must co-exist in a careful dance of survival.
They must feast together in the light of the moon; in the wake of an arduous day.
Because without perspective and breath, there is no endurance.
We must show our sons and daughters what it is to nurture the wild bits
To say, each night,
Before sleep comes
“Stay wild my child. Don’t let them tame you.”
I am grasping at straws, trying to replace Facebook
I joined Twitter.
I hate it.
I check my Instagram more frequently than necessary.
It is unsettling to be so invisible and unheard.
But I am staying with the unease in an attempt to pin it down.
Is it the camaraderie I miss?
Or is it the distraction?
Something that allows me to avoid the guilt; the conflict; the issue at hand.
Have I really forgotten how to enjoy my own company;
How to be still and quiet?
And before I stir up too much anger and self defense, let me say this:
It isn’t Facebook.
It isn’t like this for everyone.
But it is like this for me.
It all has its place.
I am just trying to figure out its place in my life.
Truth be told
I was wavering last night.
Ready to sign back in and be done with it.
And I may do just that again at some point.
First, I need to nail it all down.
Who are we without the quips and witticism?
Who remembers us when the constant reminders disappear?
Don’t get me wrong.
There have been a great many acquaintances who’ve turned into cherished friends there.
I am talking about something bigger.
Something a little deeper.
For me, it is all a distraction.
A distraction from the task at hand
A distraction from the messy house
A distraction from the lingering baby weight
A distraction from the self work
A distraction from my light
A distraction from my happiness
A distraction from my wildness
A distraction from the important little bits that make up real life.
Instead of looking at my daughter’s face and soft hair while she nurses
I refresh the page and see what has happened in the last ten minutes.
I look at pictures of other people’s kids
When my own are growing just beyond the screen.
Faster than light.
Instead of apologizing immediately after harsh words were spoken
I forget them and the hurt I’ve left hanging there, to see if anyone liked that funny thing I posted.
Is it avoidance of the gritty stuff?
Is it a place where wild hearts sit sedentary?
Yes, we all feel connected, but are we really?
And to what?
I can’t help but wonder.
go gently + be wonderful
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