Untamed.
Not domesticated or otherwise controlled.
Wild, savage, feral, natural, free, uncontrollable, undomesticated, unbroken, not broken in, untrained, unused to humans; rare, brutish.
I’m not surprised that these words come to mind as I begin to write this afternoon. I am, however, taken aback at just how deeply they speak to my soul – and at how far back I have to travel in my own memories to sit with this portion of myself.
As in gardening, some tough crusty looking dirt gives way quickly to the gentle prodding of a hoe – loosening softly and opening up to fertile ground for growth. Other land is formidable, sticky with clay – requiring shovel loads to be lifted, tossed back in place – and broken up by the repeated force of the tip of the shovel. Blending is required, with other soil, until a fertile space is actually created.
I have built years of growth into that second type of soil. My ability to adjust to the world around me is so intensely a part of who I am because of my environments, my choices, the world that I choose to live in. I am the over-achiever student who struggled for good grades. I am the doting daughter, the hard working employee, the caretaker of mom. I am also the daughter encourager, husband supporter, youth group leader, and willing participant at work, at church, in our home. The soil additives I have worked into my heart include loving devotion to my family, friendships, hard work, discipline, sacrifice, and patience……to name a few. These experiences, the people of my life, the goods and the bad – they are all tilled into my soul and clearly identify the woman I have become. They are the accumulation of my work as a human. As a participant on this planet.
They represent the clay of me. Re-worked. Improved. Sculpted. Adapted. The soil in the greenhouse finally ready for any and all exotic plants to grow. These are my accomplishments, if you will. My steps into the world around me. The footprints for which I am known.
Buried, though, is the immediately fertile ground of ‘me’. Carefully covered. As I dig deeper to understand my soul, I have discovered a lovely abandoned greenhouse under the jungle that resides next to my cultivated soul.
It is the same luscious bursting of greens that consume the underbrush and forests of rural Ohio on an overcast day in spring.
It is mud between my toes and hair un-tethered in a ferry boat breeze. It is slow rhythms and earthen smells and the texture of rosemary as I stroke those tiny leaves and take in their smell.
It is unresponsive to time, not unaware. It is lounging in a good story, holding hands while reading, luxuriating in words.
It is also a quick temper, and a lack of apology thereof. It is passion, and fury, and a loathing of mediocrity, repetition, small talk, and any taming of the weather through forecasts and concern. There’s a touch of belligerence here – it vines through most of the rest of the forest – reminding all to think – to breathe a life of their own – to be specific and intentional and most of all aware.
This forest that exists in my abandoned greenhouse has always existed. It knew me before I was born into it. In this forest I am safe and deep and solid about who I am, and where I draw my lines. I built the greenhouse to nurture this soil, to protect the younger shoots, to assure preservation of the important plantings within. The broken windows, rusted hinges, weathered tabletops are an improvement to the original – though they speak to years of neglect. The shell is weary, but the soul, that soul is surprisingly intact.
At the core of who I am, there is a beautifully untamed soul. She is not domesticated. She is wild, feral, natural, and free. Regardless of the cultivation you apply, I am as uncontrollable as peppermint; as undomesticated as the whales of the deep; unbroken by the world around me. Maintaining the rare, untrained, unused-to-humans self that I was brought into this world owning – being – living as: throughout.
I will continue to look like the cultivated soul that I have prepared for the world. But as my life continues to morph before my very often surprised eyes and heart – I will unleash the truth of my ‘person’ more completely. I will share the depths of childlike wonders and deeply held beliefs. I will open the greenhouse during nights of rain, days of wonder and under the watch of Orion. There will be poetry readings and smarmy movies where the underdog wins. Romance will be touching and soft and insanely sweet. Soft dog heads will bow to your touch and your passions will be flamed by supportive banter and encouraging words. Dramatic self reflection full of self-pity and shame will wither on the doorstep as you open the glass door and step inside.
Real is beautiful, and fleeting and steamy.
Join me in the moss, in the musk of the land, in the fragrance of deep forests and small marmosets. Join me if you can do so……
Intentionally.
wanderingoutinleftfield 
Great post 🙂
I love your writing style. The metaphors are so relatable. If you find yourself in the Orlando area please call on me. I could take you through some beautiful natural areas to explore. You definitely need to start publishing some of your work.
Thank you, Dawn! I’m wanting to publish- just haven’t figured out how…..yet! Thank you for the lovely offer. Orlando might be tempting this winter!
I was raised by wolves and trees and forest spirits. Hearing the call I left the wood, but kept it in me, in my quiet, unspoken soul. A part of me always longing to return, to escape, to find solace and solitude in the empty, untamed loneliness. But, it was love that called me out. Like Peter or Mowgli before me, love of the King, of wife, of child, of family. Now I with feet in two worlds and heart divided stand. Growing ever older and finding it harder on this earth to rediscover the past, I feel a distant yearning murmuring. This worm. This aching, gnawing hunger. This wild call. Perhaps it will always unsatisfied be left here. Rather, as Lewis wrote: “Higher up and further in” we will finally find home.
…………..and all find what they truly seek!
This is the second time that you have written in response to my writing – and your words flow with such ease. There’s a challenging thought and depth in each sentence. Such a joy to read. THANK YOU.
Thanks for stirring the pot of memories and writing thoughts, etc. You make me want to echo. Appreciate your sharing and bravery in it.
Please continue to echo. Noticing the bravery helps a lot, as well. The sharing seems ‘mandatory’ currently, but it is nice that the writing is reaching others in new ways, as well.