How long do we stifle the cries of our souls in the persuit of the approval of the Man? How much longer can we go on like this? With the discomfort of our dreams and inner callings pushing us towards a reality that feels so distant and out of reach. Yet so familiar. I remember it. Somehow I remember the way it should be. Like a dream that lingers on after you wake – it’s energy like a cloud that I can’t quite grasp.
I’m agitated and I’m uncomfortable. I try and go on with my day. I potter about the house and I stand in line at the grocery store and smile. Somehow I get from A to B, waiting for the light to go green before unconsciously moving on with my day. I’m burdened with a million ideas and the paralysing inability to squeeze passion or pleasure into my day. How could I be so selfish to prioritise joy. Joy. Happiness. Ugh. How unproductive.
My soul is pulled towards the streams and mountains and little patches of moss and the way the trees twist around each other, intertwined and endlessly connected. But there’s no time. I must stay busy. So I wander where I can.
I drift aimlessly outside. My feet are grounded to the edge of the garden, invisible roots stretching down towards the earth from the soles of my feet, keeping me firmly planted there. My little patch of wild. My pocket of safety in my world of busy.
It’s like the plants are pulling me in. Speaking to me silently. Hushing me. I’m calm. I’m still. I’m quiet. I feel safe. I know I need to keep moving but my feet are rooted to the earth. I feel a gentle hum and my eyes glaze over. Nothing. No chatter. Nothing. Quiet. Stillness. Safety. The pants are pulling me home, gently reminding me that I belong with them. We are you and you are we. Infinitely connected. Deeply wildly. Cyclical creators. We are magic. We are nature.
They gently rouse me from the sleep that I’ve been in for what feels like years and the fog clears briefly. I remember. I remember myself and I remember my peace. I remember the girl that sat under the trees and wrote stories of far away places. I remember the women that stood before me, whispering their wisdom into braids and tapestries. I remember me. My soul. My true, wild self.
So I tell her to wait for me. I’ll be back soon. And I sigh and pull myself away – back to the busy and the clocks and schedules and rules and expectations. But I’ll come back for you soon my beautiful wild self, I promise I’ll be back.
If you are feeling disconnected from your wild, creative, intuitive self lately, I recommend working with your third eye chakra. This can help you to feel balanced and connected with the divine within yourself. I have a blog post about the third eye chakra here that I would love to share with you, if you feel called to this 🙂