Living the Wild Life

My idea of a wild life used to look like that of a youthful party. Something that consisted of dressing up and nightlife and bars. I spent a number of years living this type of unfulfilling wild life. I would come home to the rising sun to hear my father lecture me about the time I was wasting. Of course, these lessons can, and would only be mine to learn, and only when I was ready to receive them.

As the years past, I did indeed realize there was not one single thing filling my soul in the high heels I was wearing, or the drinks I was sipping, or in the clubs in which I was dancing. I found that it all ended the same, in a somewhat fake and all too often self loathing space. I didn’t actively decide to seek out change, but it somehow found me. I didn’t decide to suddenly exchange my high heels for hiking boots, but there they were, quietly making their way into my closet.

The wild life for me is now filled with early morning communes with nature. The wild life is coffee made over the campfire before a hike in the brisk air. The wild life is now a sunny afternoon paddle on a quite lake in the North Woods. The wild life is now dreaming about through hiking the triple crown of American trails. The wild life is fulfilling and dreamy. It’s full of natural wonder and inspiration. It’s stepping into adventure and exploring new places. My cup overflows with the joy that this wild life brings me in a soul filling, self loving, genuine space that no high heel, drink or club, could ever, ever, bring.