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  • Writer's pictureeschaden

Wild Life...

I had a great weekend. I think I might have already mentioned that...but yesterday I was enthralled with the wild life that surrounded my trip home. I saw whales (lots), elk (with and without horns locked), Great horned owl (one), a barn owl (one), deer, birds and finally, upon arrival home goats, dogs and cats.

There was much flora and fauna in my weekend which always results in a good time for me. I am happiest when my time is spent in nature, cavorting with beings that I can only know from a distance. And trees. I love trees and any time spent amongst the redwoods is time well spent...always.

Driving home yesterday, I had a lot of time to reflect on this wild life of mine. How tethered I am to some things that I really want to let go of (old ideas, people, ways of life) and how very much I am grateful to begin where I am in new relationships and wherever I am going has been and continues to be a wild life. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My life seems to be this walking the fine line between ferality and domesticity. I need both but find myself drawn more and more to the quiet, simple, yet dangerous life lived in the wild. Willing to trading nice clothes and shoes and crap that I think I need for other freedoms like long walks with giant old woods, time spent with people who are smart and interesting, wandering around in nature, being present, and feeling alive and joyous for no other reason than I am there, alive, happy and sober.

The day came to a close, with me sitting with someone I very much admire and adore, watching the sunset from the tailgate of my Jeep. The sun receded rather quickly but then it if it was not ready to let this particular day be overtaken by night. I felt that way too, my day being magical and amazing. And I too felt like I wasn’t ready to allow night’s entrance. I wanted to spend forever right there on the gate of my truck, soaking up love and comfort and peace and my life. I was that wild life that is reckless in its simplicity and seeking of comforts that are off the grid.

Later on, something happened to me as I saw a great horned owl swoop down in his search for a twilight meal. I was there. I saw it. I could hear the rush of his wings even though my car sped past too quickly. I could see him alight a fence post flummoxed in his dinner quest, at least momentarily. I saw his magnificent outline in the day’s fading light. And I was there, living this most amazing wild life. Sharing it with another who takes delight in such things. Both of us witnesses to the majesty that only a Great Horned Owl can command.

The rest of the drive home was filled with laughter, intimacy and song. We laughed, we talked, we sang, we shared. Each with each other soulful parts of ourselves that we keep hidden out of fear, longing, regret and a sense that these things that make us who we are, somehow diminish us. But, at least for me, last night as the day faded into the blackness of night, I felt invigorated and pulsating with life. The playfulness of light and shadow supportive of all that I revealed, and all that I took in.

After I dropped him off, I drove home alone, bearing witness to more wild life on my way. Seeing the barn owl, the deer and walking into my home that is never without something to pet, or clean up after, and feeling whole, complete and wild in my own life. Ferality and domesticity finding balance for a moment, even if it never comes again, I felt it last night as I crossed the threshold of my life.

I fell asleep dreaming of the life that I currently have that supports weekends such as this. A wild life, that is full and brimming with love, tenderness, passion and appreciation for all that I have, all that I am and all that I might become. And finally feeling like perhaps, maybe, possibly, I might have finally found someone with which to share this wild day at a time, one moment at a time, one experience at a time, one Great Horned Owl at a time. The possibility of loving again is born anew with a savage abandon that feels untamed, alive and feral. And I begin again, living, wilding and being grateful for the jagged trajectory of my life.

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