The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Saturday, September 3, 2011

I'm not thinking of wild in the context of unruly or disrespectful. I'm thinking of wild as free of unimportant restrictions. Not immoral, but natural, unsuppressed. As not tamed or dulled away from an authentic representation of one's true self. Wild, as a word has so many negative connotations. I'm thinking of it as a field of flowers or a waterfall ... or a night sky. I'm thinking of it as a natural state. Not as rebellion, but as basic, innocent ... Not in need of restraint or manmade convention.

I'm thinking about the story of early creation when God walked in a garden with his creation. A time when it was safe to sleep under a canopy of ancient lights ... A time before painted lines and table manners. That kind of wild.

I think this is why the wild horses are so appealing me.

I wonder how life might be were we free to be just who we were created to be. Seems like so much is lost wondering if this behavior is okay with strangers ... Am I laughing too loud? Is my stuff impressive? Do you like my hat?

I've liked the long walks on the trail. It's visually quiet ... Restful. I'll think about this some more. I guess what I'm thinking of is something like not watered down.

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