May we enter into lightness of spirit and slip frequently into the feel of the wild.  ~John O’Donohue

Like an ancient drum beat pounding out a sacred rhythm, there is a primal resonance when I’m near the ocean that feels familiar and draws me close like a moth to light. It touches some instinctual magnetism within me that longs to slip into the feel of the wild, now and again. There is part of me that does not want to be domesticated – that does not want to conform to the constraints of convention. Perhaps it is the inability to grasp water in my hand, to hold onto it too tightly, which rings true with my experiences in life. It reminds me of a tale about a mother duck paddling across a pond with six small ducklings following behind her. An observer of the tranquil scene ruminated about how nice it is to have one’s ducks in a row. Out of the blue, a golden eagle swoops down, ruffling the water as it snatches one of the ducklings away.

The story is meant to illustrate the futility of trying to order our lives too rigidly because unforeseen forces conspire against our best-laid plans. The ocean is no different. One moment it can be deceptively calm and serene, the surface flat and shimmering like a mirror. The next moment it can rage with towering waves and currents that demand sailors to be ware. Though there is a predictable nature to the ocean with tides and currents following the cycles of the moon, the rise and fall of water precisely measured based on location, date and time, the violence that lurks within the watery depths is always present, powerful enough to send a boat crashing upon the rocks or spiraling downward to the ocean floor.

There is something reassuring about the ocean’s refusal to be managed or controlled. It is a place where storms are expected as well as the doldrums and the only requirement is to be open to experiencing it all. Life is like a wild animal, a friend once said, and will not be tamed. Embracing the untamable nature of things, whether it’s found in the wilderness, the ocean, or within myself, offers a certain freedom from my self-imposed expectation to “calm the waters.” There is so much I don’t know, can’t plan for or predict. The ocean encourages me to accept this reality and take each moment as it comes without the need for it to be different – to accept life on life’s terms instead of trying to make it conform to my idea of what it should be – to enter into the lightness of spirit that comes from being a bit wild.

Question:  Where are the wild places in your life?