wild

I’ve been in a place of a lot of fear lately, out in the wild. It has to do with a sense of safety, and it’s frustrating because it’s not how I want to feel, or even who I really believe that I am.

I believe that the earth responds to our intentions, our emotional states, and our ability to be present. In every introduction to Wonder Walks, I mention that when I am walking with presence, I see—and I believe I am permitted to see—so much more. I want to walk into wild spaces with trust and openness.

And yet fear distracts me from presence. Normally, the sound of dry leaves waving together is a prompt for me to greet the wind. When I’m in a state of fear, I whip around at the sound instead, on guard against what feels like immediate danger. My stomach tightens, my heart quickens, and my imagination runs wild.

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This fear seemed to follow me all summer in Montana while hiking alone, or even camping with Chema when he would go fishing and wander out of sight downstream.

The question that I’ve been grappling with is: Is this fear borne of intuition in my body that I should listen to? Or is this conditioned fear? We tell our little girls to stay on the path, or the Big Bad Wolf will come and eat us alive. We’ve been told that wild places aren’t safe so that we won’t step into the wild.

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Later in the summer, I spent a week at the North Carolina coast with family. The NC coast is one of my very favorite places in the world. I went for the first time when I was five weeks old, and I’ve been back every summer of my life save two.  It’s one of the places I call home (more on home places in this recent blog post). This summer, as I was walking in the surf on a windy day when the rip tides were strong, I was reminded of the wildness of the ocean. It’s the first place I learned to be free, covered in sand as I ran into the waves, where I learned to move through the breakers and dive under to reach the calm part of the ocean. As I learned to respect the currents and the rip tides, I came to respect and grow comfortable with the ocean’s wild. Yes, there’s the occasional shark attack, or jellyfish sting, but from a lifetime of getting to know the ocean, I know what a rarity that is. It doesn’t keep me from wading into the water.

In contrast, I’m still getting to know the Rocky Mountain West, and it’s still getting to know me. I didn’t grow up around bears, or in forested areas—I’m used to the wide open spaces of the Texas hill country where it’s easier to see what’s ahead of and around you (and, we’ve eliminated most of the predators in the landscape).  

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So maybe I can give myself a grace period with this fear. I can remember that belonging takes time. With time, maybe I’ll dive headfirst into this landscape with the trust that it will hold me in return.

I’m not saying that real danger isn’t out there. But I know that I’ll keep seeking wild places. I will choose fear over taming every time. I’ll keep stepping into the wild.