I wonder if the wild ones are going extinct?
They seem hard to find these days.
I have a feeling it’s because they aren’t up on the stages, under the spotlights, or fighting for an eventual place there. Somewhere along the way, I imagine, they must have finally yielded themselves to this to the most freeing truth- I will never be famous and I’m going to stop trying.
From there, it seems they swerve off course, venturing down secret pathways of abundance many of us will never discover because we’re still clawing our way towards the lights, the camera, the action.
Sometimes, I think, the most visible among us are the least wild.
Visibility squanders part of our soul that was meant to roam and wander the varied terrains of life with wonder and curiosity.
Of course, we don’t realize it at first, but this craving to be seen coincides with a desire to hoard our resources, to be stingy and calculated. Most every act becomes a performance of some sort.
We worship speed and efficiency, and starve our other-worldly desire to explore the unknown with no plan in mind except to recognize the adventure of living as our greatest accomplishment of every day.
The wild ones don’t spend their seconds building platforms to stand on nor do they worry about where they stand at all. Life to them is more than climbing ladders, they’d rather climb trees, seeing the world and their place in it from a new vantage point.
They are devoted to the craft of being human and staying wild. They immerse themselves fully into every experience and encounter, jumping into each day as if it were a new territory, ferociously dedicated to growing their raw passions and childlike dreams, and foraging for truth and beauty to share with those for generations to come.
When you are with them, you know it. They smell like someone who has been out-doors, fresh with the wind of the Spirit, creativity and depth undeniable. They allure you into vastness of the sea, into your current season, into messy relationship, to take risks and fail more, and then to scurry off into sacred hiddenness for rest and reprieve. They beckon you to participation, to walk the trails, instead of staying on the observation deck.
They nudge you towards the impossible, down the dark alleys, behind the closed doors, around the corners, and into the quiet spaces where life seems to whisper your purpose so clearly.
Meanwhile, the culture around us tries to lull us back to sleep, to manipulate us into a stupor of unempathetic existence and secluded isolation with our comfort and our screens and flimsy safe havens.
Step off the race track, out from the spot lights, move down the ladder, walk down your road, and hunt for the wild ones.
They are there. I continue to meet them much to my surprise.
Linger with them in real conversation. Take notes on how they work, play, parent, and move through their life. Pay attention not just to what they accomplish but how they do it. Listen to their voices. Devour their wisdom.
They exude a quiet courage, the kind that doesn’t need the permission of an audience to be daring. In their eyes are stories of how they embraced their humanity, owned their actual life for the adventure it was made to be, and wrote their own obituary in pen because death gives them directions on how to live.
Make sure you don’t lose sight of these wild ones.
Follow them, if you dare.
I am not sure they are going extinct, maybe it’s the rest of us who are becoming too tame.