Braving The Wilderness

Not just a pastiche of Brené Brown.

Not just a pastiche of Brené Brown.

I like full stops. Separation. Space. Room to breathe. Room to grow. Permission to feel.

And I am feeling, and this wilderness is dizzying.

Photo by Andrew Spencer on Unsplash

What do we do when there’s no roadmap?

When we’re doing something for the first time, in and for ourselves?

Who do we look to? Where do we turn to?

What does it mean to really, truly, belong?

We all have a wilderness inside ourselves — somewhere deep, dark, and perhaps impenetrable. And I wonder how many of us venture there. I wonder how many of us are scared. If we could — that is, if we had been there, and survived to tell the tale — I wonder how many of us would share.

Curiosity. That’s what we need. A child-like yearning. An open mind and an open heart. This is just the start — and yes, it hurts. Don’t chide me for it. Don’t chide yourself.

Stillness is the key. Beyond fragmentation, the consolidation of mind and body. A moment in time, suspended, breathing softly. A fallacy: because of course we’re still moving. Because time stops for no one. Because we are at the mercy of so much that we don’t know and understand.

And yet, beauty.

Stepping out, wind in hair and palm to forehead. Protection from the elements or an attempt to focus? Eyes, gaze, forward. There is a lyricism to it. A majesty in it. The notion of emergence. What comes out must first go in, and strength is about so much more than physicality.

What makes you feel weak? Transcend it.