Living my wild life
I once had an intuitive tell me that I would not be happy unless I was living a wild life.
“HELL YEAH,” I thought, even while my life was sweet and conventional, the way I’d always played it, safe.
The off-ness of the comment confused people, they just couldn’t match it up with the person they saw in front of them.
But it wasn’t off to me. It was right on. And I knew it. In fact, receiving those words was like diving into a warm sea of recognition. When for so long I’d been fine, just fine, on the shore in my self-constructed, hurricane-proof house.
And then came the pain from wanting to be seen, to feel my self alive. To escape on a boat and rock it so severely that I’d fall into the embrace of those warm waters that loved me. I thought an escape was necessary. Until I realized- I didn’t want to leave my life, I wanted to show up for my life! I needed to be seen with my own two eyes.
It is mightily uncomfortable to allow pain to wash through me and flood all the structures that keep me safe. Oh but the insights and gifts that flow through that wash! And then the greatest, most unexpected one of all: this water that washes loves me too. It sees me, adores me, and moves me.
My wild life was begging to be born. Wild, creative energy ready to be released.
And slowly, ever ever so slowly, I was no longer on my knees in supplication but on my knees in glorified gratitude and grace, prone in the green grass hugging me, holding me.
With more than a pulse, with the breath of God flowing through me.
From the outside, nothing looks all that different (yet), I create my wild life every day here and now in the sacred spaces I cultivate, becoming as liquid as the water that drives nature and swallows up hurricane-proof lives.
At the ready for transformation.
I am enthralled by where the flow will go.