Wild

I recently spent an evening with a writer-in-arms who brought attention to my frequent - and affectionate - use of the word ‘wild.’ Well aware of my verbiage designations, I asked if he felt my employment of the word was redundant - he said no. Curiosity is delicious, isn’t it? Presented with this wildly tangled ball of yarn, I decided to pull at its thread - as it’s not words alone which fascinate me, but the relationship between words and their writer.

My wildness is peppered through the prose of my blog and Twitterfeed, and turns up most often as a one-word acknowledgement of anything reaching beyond my literal understanding and/or dripping with unapologetic authenticity. Wild is resonant with the primal force of not just having a life, but experiencing life. It’s ownership over flaws and an intimate relationship with your shadows - as a wild spirit is raw and untamed. It’s comfortable in its skin of both shadow and light - in fact, the wildest souls wear both tragedy and triumph with equal resolve.

Wild is not a definition reserved for rule-breaking or shameless acts of defiance - it’s not sneaking out of your house to get drunk with boys or screaming your war cry through the rolled-down window of a speeding car, as the tangles of your mane whip wakes in the wind. Wild cannot be reduced to the shallowness of behavior, as it isn’t an accusation or judgement - it’s more, it’s deeper. It’s the steady rumble of hunger in the belly of a hunter, pulsing through veins and driving you onward to seek, to learn, and to understand. It’s eating when you’re famished and sleeping when you’re tired, without apology for satiating your humanness. Because you are human and your humanity is fucking beautiful.

I am not the flower you plant in a garden; I will not be confined to a pot or pruned to conform. It’s not a gardener who designates the depth of my beauty and I do not open my petals for the aesthetic pleasure of observing eyes. I bloom when I choose and wear my wilted foliage with pride, as its a part of me. I’ve weathered both rain and drought - and still, I survive. I am full with wonder and burning with life, and I stand before the sun. Tall, proud, with quiet confidence and a steady resolve because I am a wildflower, rooted with the earth and unapologetic with my wildness.