Wildness exists. We see it in the scorching sun, the changing leaves, the torrential rains coming down in voluminous, grey sheets. We hear it in the hiss of snakes, the crack of thunder, in our own voices when we are angry, upset, joyous. We taste it in fresh water, crisp autumn air, in a home-cooked recipe passed down for generations. There is wildness in everything, in all of us. Take a moment; breathe. The wildness is still inside you. Let it stretch. Let it survive. Let it sing.
I wrote the above in the woods today, when me and the rest of our small, introspective senior class went to a nearby pond for the day. Today was "Walden Day", a senior celebration that has been happening at my school for over a decade, inspired by the experiences and writings of Henry David Thoreau. We go, we read quotes from the book Walden, and we write responses to questions that Thoreau himself seemed to be asking when he wrote the book. The question I was meditating on above was: "Does wildness still exist?" Here's the end of the passage I wrote.
Do not smother wildness in fear that it will overtake you. We are easily overtaken creatures. Embrace it. We are too fond of lines and structure. Let yourselves be messy, and hurt, and excited. It's not quite as scary out here as you think. It is wild, but you are wild too. There is where we all belong.
I went to a poetry reading last night (something I'll also write a blog post on soon!), so I was feeling quite lyrical when writing. It was very powerful to be able to sit with myself in nature and think, then let the words spill out onto the page. It sometimes felt that the whole of the forest was pausing in contemplation with me. Here is my answer to the question, "To what extent do we find only the world we look for?" My answer is kind of meandering; I apologize in advance.
We have tunnel vision. Wake, eat, work, eat, work, eat, sleep. Each day is exhausting, so we push forward to the next exhausting day. We hardly think of the roses, the water, the earth beneath our feet and between our toes. For us, it is forward, forward, forward. We lament our lack of time, space, and contentedness. If we stop and look around, we can see it's all there, waiting for us. Breathe. Walk around in it. It is yours to move in: the curiosity, the unseen.
After each writing time, we would come back together and read. It was great to hear that many of my classmates were feeling the same way I was, often responding to the questions similarly but with insights I had not thought about before. It made me realize how much I truly appreciate my senior class. I'm very lucky to be graduating with the people I'm graduating with! The final question was a hard one, and one that was especially relevant to us, since we're all graduating in seven months. "How will you live deliberately?"
Stop. Breathe. Go. It is not as simple as you think. At the same time, it is exactly as simple as you think. You are more than the sum of your parts: you're a body, a soul, and a heart. I'm here, and I will not go gently. I will not allow my anxieties to keep my from my dreams. I will not let distractions hurt my confidence. If I want to love, I will love. If I want to travel, I will travel. If I want to write, I will write until the words no longer sing to me. I promise to be true to my feelings, to listen more, to spend more time in the moment. Here. Right now. I can feel my wildness.
No comments:
Post a Comment