I believe in returning to the Wild. I believe in granting myself permission to get naked in the woods and go swimming in the roaring rivers as much as I need to. I believe in my children's foundational memories smelling like pine trees, campfires and muddy feet. I believe in taking breaks from the domestication, as a means of reunifying with the essence. I believe in chapters that lead to other chapters and trusting the blessing of blank pages ahead. I believe in my sap-soaked palms. In my palo santo spine. In my outpouring of connection and contemplation and love. I believe even when I don't fit in, I belong.
I woke up this morning before the sun with skin still dusted with stardust, and in the sanctuary of these woods I found this drumbeat in my bones, "Remember your wild. Remember your wild. Remember you're wild."
Today I bow to all the wolves who walk in sheep's clothing in the domesticated tangle of motherhood and livelihood and grace. May we never forget to sing out to the moon. May we always remember (the magic of) who we are.