I’ve lost my wild heart once. Twice. Too many times to count. Lost her to heartbreak – thinking that another could hold her for me forever and being devastated that this was not so. I’ve lost her when I handed over my agency and sovereignty and ownership of self. I’ve lost her most often when I’ve forgotten myself, when I’ve denied my own truths, when I’ve pushed down the need to create for so long that my heart…she finds better things to do.
The funny thing is, that the losing and the finding are interwoven. We must lose our wild hearts from time to time, I believe. We must so that we know why we need them. We must so that we remember that in order to be found we must go into the wilderness. Sometimes, it is only in the getting lost that we can find our way back home. Here are 12 places to search for your one wild heart:
- Near the ocean. Under the crashing waves. Inside of a handful of azure sea glass. Tucked beneath the pier. Swim out to find it or dive down deep. Build a sand castle and let the waves knock it over. Watch it come floating out into the sun.
- Inside that shoebox of love notes and birthday cards and ticket stubs, you know the one – tucked at the back of your closet behind your winter coat and those boots you think you’ll wear but never do. Sometimes we hold on to past hurts so long they become our present. Take the lid off. Let the memories breathe. Rip and trash and burn. Watch the ashes rise. Wild hearts can die in tight boxes. Set it free.
- In between the lines of the final stanza of that poem that brought you to your knees, or tucked into the middle pages of that old book. Take it off the shelf. Read it out loud. Give it the cadence of your soul dancing. Watch it come back to life.
- Inside her tightly clenched palms. Beneath the edge of his mattress. Behind that stack of dusty boxes in your parent’s attic. Sometimes it’s not that we’ve lost our wild hearts, it’s that others don’t want to release their hold. Tell them that they must let go.
- Crammed in between layers of inconsequential ramblings in your journal. Right there, in the midst of all the mindless meandering. There is one line. One word maybe. It’s red hot and burning. If you are ready to see it will glow with truth. Leaf through the pages, find the starting point. Rewrite it at the top of a blank page. See what comes next.
- Inside of your yes. Open your mouth. Soften your body. Practice the sound. Say it with heat. Say it with desire. Say to to her or him or them or just yourself. Say it only when you really, really mean it. Say it loud in the center of the silence. Say it with your mind and your soul and your body. Yes is an invitation into the wild. Yes opens the doors. Yes signals your readiness to begin.
- At the core of your holy no. In the space that is the opposite of reluctant acquiescence. There where your power resides. In the center of your autonomy and agency and absolutely sovereignty of self. In the space where your voice rises clear and true and solid and whole in response to an unwelcome invitation, pressured expectation or an attempt to do harm. No is a call to your wild heart that wholeness is needed now.
- In the crush of bodies on the dance floor. In the heat and the sweat and the body on body on body space where time loses meaning and you meld into the others and the boundaries blur and the edges spin and there is no option except the deepest embodiment. When the bass pounds in your chest and you move without hesitation. Your wild heart is dancing in your chest. Do you feel it?
- Deep inside the silence. In the middle of nowhere. Where there is no company except for the trees and the flowers and your fellow wild things. Deep in forest or on desert mountain tops or rushing rivers or country fields overgrown with life. In the places where the go-go-go finally ceases and your wild heart pulse can be heard and recognized and once again known. Into the wild and all the way home.
- In the salt heat of skin on skin. In the sex and went and want of it. In the giving and receiving of body and desire and touch and kiss and taste. In the primal and the unfettered and the surrender to need. There, right there, in that spot that brings you to your knees – feel the return of your wild heart until the whole room pulses with it’s red hot beat.
- At the heart of your tribe. Your true community. The souls who make you more of yourself. The ones who know your true face and your true voice and your true name. The ones who sometimes, without us even knowing, agree to hold our wild hearts for a time, until we are ready to return to ourselves.
- In the beginning and middle and end of the story that needs to be told. The one you are avoiding because it hurts, or it liberates, or it breaks or wails or changes everything. The one that is ready but that you will will not welcome. A story untold will hold a wild heart so tight it loses breath. A story untold will stop the revolution. A story untold sounds just like a heart does when it breaks. Tell the story. Tell the story. Tell the story. Your wild heart will return.
If you are ready to search for your wild heart. If you have been feeling lost and without moorings. If you feel the steady pulse of creation in your chest but have been denying and avoiding and ignoring the call – please join me for a guided 30 day journey into your own wild heart. On Valentines Day we once again commit to a fierce form of self-love. In just 5 days, the winter session of 30 Questions To Bring You Closer To Your Wild Heart begins. Inside the space of this course you will find inspiration, encouragement, a push to go farther and deeper, a growing community and tribe of wild hearted writers and an invitation to write your way home.
For only $30, you can become a part of this growing community, with a Facebook page, Instagram, Twitter and blog, devoted solely to the uplifting and amplification of the voices of those who have taken the course. Nothing would make me happier than to have you join us on this journey. Your wild heart awaits. Learn more about the course and enroll in the winter session.