A Wild Reverent Rapport

Four days in the near wilderness of Algonquin Park reminds me again who I truly am beneath, behind, beyond the idolatries of ego and the trappings of modernity.

Getting down to basics, returning to Nature, reviving the body where trees breathe cascades of colour into the cells, restoring the soul with crisp air and cold water and clear songs of owl and loon and a distant wolf in the night, take me into a wild reverent rapport with the courtesies of an interconnected life.

Modernity manufactures deficit swathes across broad bands of soulscapes. It’s a clear cut of the wildish self out of holistic harmonies. Loud. Rude. Crass. A rock in the way of the road? Blow it up. A forest in the way of the mine? Cut it down. A swamp in the way of a parking lot? Drain it. Animal people or human people, insect or fish people, plant or elemental people ousted from their ancestral homes? Ah. The price of progress. But what have we lost?

Modernity has got us bamboozled with its sleight of hand technologies that make us think how great we are with our internet and electric wires and almost instantaneous self gratifications. But did you know that Nature orchestrates solar systems and galaxies into harmonious orbits, bone and skin damage into radiant repair, seed germination and DNA replication in perfect measure, without our needing to know how? Did you know that our cells emit light? 

The wild intensity of a vital longing or a keen psychic stalking after a passion have been modified to fit a day planner–or eliminated altogether. The inspired life is ceded for the benefit and pension plan. And the light emissions from your cells, the life bright biophotons, fade.

Kids are scheduled right out of all make-believe from their own imaginations and adults are often either the walking dead going through the motions or the energized bunnies of a pop culture craze hopped up on paradigms of productivity and behavioural adjustment.

The healing of a junk culture may require not more planning and measuring, not more efficiency and control technologies. The healing of a junk culture may demand a rewilding of the soul; a re-enchantment with the more elusive curves of the psyche; a renewed appreciation for the vibrant instincts and vital intuitions that flow—like rivers through changing landscapes, around obstacles, over rough patches, across shallows—and carve out favourable pathways without the need for straightening up or hammering to.

A collective healing may require a renewed willingness for captivation with things of mystery and magic; the humblings of awe that include its dread with its raptures; a commerce with elusive edges and evocative ambiguities; a living outside the egoic technologies made to harness and enslave everything pliable, trophic, natural.

The deep healing of a culture’s soul requires a restoration of a sense of charm and the charmed—in every soul. The rewilding of a stiffly scheduled society requires the trophic rejuvenators of play and playfulness.

Rewilding means a return to a wise reverent rapport with the living flow in all things.

Let it be. You’re standing smack dab in the midst of The Now Field. How could this not be doable?

{photo by me of Loon Canoe, an old ally of mine, retired now to a sling beneath a porch, but still a bearer of stories and birther of worlds}

 

A Wild And Singular Life

Whatever the universe may do in some distant future—spin, shrink, disappear, start over—the universe, right now, is vibrantly expanding. Expansion seems to be its driving urge.

From the Big Bang, right down to the explosion of binary cell division that resolves into a complexly evolving fetus, The Universe seems intent on expanding more and more life, complexity, beauty, abundance into its vast body.

From the exquisitely patterned developmental stages of a healthy disposition, into the full throttle thrown into wish fulfillment, we are coded with an expansive desire for growth.

From crystalline structures in snowflakes, frost patterns on windows, and sparkling symmetries in rare gems buried in layers of rock, fractal iterations throughout Nature insist on unfolding and expanding our wonderment.

You are one of those unfoldingments. You are the desire of the evolutionary impetus to further itself. You are the smouldering ember of desire’s next big bang.

“Tell me,” writes Mary Oliver, “what is it you plan to do with your one, wild and precious life?”[i]

That’s a crazy sexy inspiring question. That question can set the heart on fire. It can set the mind to scanning the psychic landscape for those embers of potentiality that, when tended, burst into destiny’s living fire.

If you don’t feel any spark in you, try this exercise: take Mary Oliver’s question with you as you walk through your days and weeks.

What is it I plan to do with my one, wild and precious life?

Repeat it like a mantra, a prayer, a favourite song lyric.

Write it on binder covers, notebook margins, journal headers, doodle scraps.

Post it on cupboards and mirrors and fridge doors.

Post it on Facebook and Twitter statuses.

Let it seep in, remind you, become you. Just let it in, over and over. Then let go.

Let go of outcome agendas.

Let that question expand your mind, fill your heart, and inspire your whole being to transcend current limitations.

What you impress upon your subconscious mind over and over begins to arrange itself in patterns beyond the conscious mind’s imagining.

Let that question in. What do you plan to do with your one wild and singular life?

Let the answers flow. Become what you most singularly must become in your one wildish soul.

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[i] Oliver, Mary (1992). New and Selected Poems, ‘A Summer Day.’ Boston: Beacon Press, p. 94.