I feel her rising up inside me more and more frequently, closer to showing herself each time. I never know what will call to her, or what I’ll do (God help me) when she finally answers. The spirit cries out before the action springs forth. She paces deliberately to and fro within my heart and mind, not trying to find a way out, but pacing…pacing…waiting for me to be aware and willing.
She talks to me in the urge to drive until I run out of gas to see what exists for me there. She tells me not to live the damage I’ve sustained, but instead to devour it, absorb it into us to use as the fuel it’s meant to be~to propel us forward into the wild. She rises up from somewhere deep inside, far beyond my soul, and when we are one and the same~for that breath of a moment~I am free, powerful, and eternal.
She throws back her head and howls into the silence when I’m lost in beauty, in pain, in rage, in defense of all things beloved. She growls and whimpers when I lock myself again into a daily life that restricts me and fears that conflict me. She lifts her head in challenge, scenting my desire for the natural order of things, which in no way resembles the life I lead.
She is the Mother, the Lover, the Warrior, the Destroyer, the Queen that I’ve watered down to the weak, palatable, watercolor version of me the world sees as acceptable. There are times she trembles in fury at my acceptance of lesser than.
I’m beginning to agree with her.
“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”~George Carlin
She is changing me.
The nights she remains silent, I’m heavy with an unbearable sorrow. No longer willing to be the lap dog, I begin to feed the wolf, and the more I feed her, the stronger I become. She urges me to find my pack, so that we can run together in spirit, if nothing else…there are others lost in a paralysis of civilization that must be set free; who refuse to be put down.
“For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.” ~Rudyard Kipling
I am the evidence she exists. She is the reason I exist still. I hear her howling, listen…she calls me by name.
I look into the mirror, and as my eyes change~so does my reflection.
“To look into the eyes of a wolf is to see your soul.
Just be sure something you want to view is there.”~Unknown
I am the evidence. There are others like me.
Hear the Howling.