There is Something Wild in Me

I think sometimes I belong to another place and another time. One not quite so civilized and without as many rules. One where the love is fiercer, the laughing louder and not at tables with fine china where we worry about bothering the other guests.

I think sometimes I belong to the night air and solstice fires and a brawny, bawdy people who care for the land and each other.

I belong to sunlit days and chapped skin and tangled hair and wild night skies, infinite in scope and beauty.

I belong to a Love wild and free and not constrained by supposed to’s or have to’s or rules in a book. I belong to a deeper sense of right and wrong and fierce compassion and relentless grace and justice for even the smallest among us — especially for her.

I belong to oceans crossed not in cruise ships but with tenacity and faith and doubt on wood rough-hewn by human hands.

I belong to suffering and loss and agony and pain and rising, somehow, again, like the phoenix from the ashes, not pristine and absent the fire, but rising anyway, with the fire within.

I belong to community and family and the Village and women helping women and children clinging to literal apron strings as the grandmothers with ample hips move and push and kneed today’s bread.

I belong to the rocky shore and the rising breeze and the fierce storm on the horizon that whips my hair and promises no quarter.

I sit in my wicker chair with a soft cushion, and I drink my coffee from my porcelain cup. I listen to the birds and the branches and the tap tap tap of my fingers on the keys, and still I know, there is something wild in me.

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ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
16 comments
  1. Beautiful! I feel the same way. 🙂

  2. That’s all of us, at our roots, I think. Beautifully written.

  3. I could hear the bagpipes and drums playing as I read this.

    When I was single, before I had four small munchkins to feed and tuck into bed, and was therefore confined to the house at night no matter what… I would go to the beach on stormy nights and run and run in the dark, along the ocean’s edge, as the rain whipped my face and the surf tossed around my ankles, until I was out of breath and couldn’t run anymore. It was very soothing and I miss it.

  4. Oh, my word! So, so beautiful! I don’t think I’ve read anything so powerful and touching to me in a long time. Thank you!

  5. *ancestors, not descendants. That’s the kind of morning I’m having!

  6. Are your descendants from Northern Europe? I have a similar English/Irish thing going on here – and I take great comfort (spiritual) and otherwise, in a lot of the Celtic liturgy available from the Iona Community and the Northumbria Community. Sometimes these things are in your SOUL….praying the same prayers as people did centuries ago around the hearth as they embraced the Trinity may help you feel connected to the feeling you describe, I suspect.

  7. So true! Beautifully said.

  8. Holy shiznit, this is my favorite writing of yours EVER. And luckily, ha ha, as I just read it aloud to my 3 y/o in the bath. #morelukethis

    1. Um, more like this

  9. YES! We are kindred spirits you and I.

  10. A burnished gem of a post.

  11. To a new era of wild, beautiful community that spends as much time outdoors as in and celebrates in song and story. And with good food and drink, of course.

  12. Beautiful, beautiful. I could see it and feel it all.

  13. You also belong to the poets. Beautifully done!

  14. If you build it… they will come.

    I’m there with you Beth.

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