19 November 2014


Over the past couple of months, I've really become connected to the wild woman that lives within me. I have been actively learning what it means to practice body intuition in all its forms, from how I nourish and move my body to how I share my body with others. I'm learning what it means to be FIERCE in protecting myself and in standing up for all girls and women. I'm listening to those instinctual feelings that come from a totally different mental drawer than logic. I have taken some big risks, choosing to take action when I get that "knowing" feeling in my belly. I'm feeling much more connected to nature and my home environment than I ever did before. My senses have been awakened and heightened on all levels. I feel emotions more deeply and can pinpoint parts of my body where energy is stored. This helps me feel more connected to my purest sense of self and less connected to my ego.

Look at these definitions of wild:

  1. (of an animal or plant) living or growing in the natural environment; not domesticated or cultivated. synonyms: untamed, undomesticated, feral
  2. uncontrolled or unrestrained, especially in pursuit of pleasure

Keep in mind, we are all animals. So... living in a natural, unfabricated and unrestrained, environment. UNTAMED. And in pursuit of pleasure. Talk about being unleashed and following your desire... 

Perhaps it seems nearly impossible to imagine maintaining that natural, instinctual state in today's world, with the current systems and realities in place. But there was a time when we all were closest to that truly wild state: when we were children.

Think about a 5-year-old girl, running wild and free on the playground. Climbing monkey bars and hanging upside down, darting around the grass, falling and scraping her knees, squealing with joy and reckless abandon. What happens to that fun-loving, risk-taking, free spirit? How does she become so contained and tame? Her spirit gets squashed by the opinions and expectations of others (the movies she watches, her parents, friends, religion, school system...). Suddenly that spirit is no longer guided by its untouched, sacred intuition. It becomes all about what society deems acceptable, and what your best friend thinks. Your first girlfriend/boyfriend becomes the gospel. The media tells you that you are broken or have some sort of problem that can be fixed with money and time. Now the wild child is so faint that you can barely make out her light. Underneath the heap of chains and cages that are regulation, expectation, and judgment, we lose sight of her. She starts to become what others want her to be instead of who she really is at her core: wild.

I was that wild little girl for some time. I climbed on top of the newly delivered rugs in my grandma's furniture store and belted out Achy Breaky Heart at the top of my lungs. I rode any and every roller coaster at Circus Circus. I told people what I thought without pause or filter (and without being asked). I took leadership roles whenever I could, from playing school and movie theater with my little sister, to organizing a girl band with my Spice-Girls-loving friends. I participated in class without hesitation. I was completely in my element.

But at some point I lost sight of that wild child. Looking back, I have (too) many distinct memories of times I let myself be trapped or controlled. I stopped sharing my opinions and talents so freely. I felt embarrassed when I raised my hand too often in school. I agonized over which outfit to wear. I quit softball because my fear of others' judgement literally affected how well I could play. I looked at my body with scrutiny in dance class. I dated a guy who picked on my physical appearance so much, pinching my waisting and regulating what I was eating, that I became obsessive about my diet and exercise regimen. I worked jobs that took advantage of my time and made me feel like my opinions were best kept to myself and my emotions left at home. I gave up all of my power. I allowed myself to be tamed into what others deemed acceptable and desirable. The wild little girl from my childhood wouldn't even recognize me. 

I encourage you to reflect on your childhood memories - both the times when you felt reckless abandon and the times when you started to become more self-conscious and started to care more about what others thought and wanted for you. Trace back to your wild roots and reconnect with that free spirit. It takes a lot of deprogramming to strip away all of those layers down to the wild part of us - our most pure form. After years of practicing to actively let go of what others want me to be, and instead tapping into my intuition to ask what want to be, and finding ways to nurture and grow my free spirit (yoga, dance, weight-lifting, hiking, Burning Man, camping), I am finally starting to connect with that inherently wild core. How can you tap into that sacred place within yourself? Something that I find very helpful is surrounding myself with people that allow and encourage me to be my wild self. People that don't impose judgements or try to reel me in and contain me, but instead those who will dance with me or cheer me on as I go. I'm so thankful I've found a tribe, which continues to grow and expand the more wild I allow myself to be. What kind of people do you surround yourself with? How does it affect your ability to be your wild self?
"So, I say to you with affection, imagistically - be you a Black wolf, a Northern Grey, a Southern Red, or an Arctic White - you are the quintessential instinctual criatura. Although some might really prefer you to behave yourself and not climb all over the furniture in joy or all over people in welcome, do it anyway. Some will draw back from you in fear or disgust. Your lover, however, will cherish this new aspect of you - if he or she be the right lover for you. 
Some people will not like it if you take a sniff at everything to see what it is. And for heaven's sake, no lying on your back with your feet up in the air. Bad girl. Bad wolf. Bad dog. Right? Wrong. Go ahead. Enjoy Yourself." -- Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.
Go on with your lovely wild selves!!! Feels better. I promise. AAAAAOOOOOO!

Phantogram - Howling at the Mooooooon

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