Women of the wild.

The women of the Wild World are daughters of the ancients. We are sand and sun and sea. We are mountain tops and crystal covens. We are jungle-vine hair and lips that curl up to expose the fierceness of our protection.

Women of the Wild world move in our own ways. We move at our own paces. We travel in any direction we desire. We stay true to our instincts, and we do not ask permission. Wild things live only by the laws of nature. The rest, comes from from the authority of being true to it.

Keenness of awareness, and spontaneous intuition, leads us always to the place where we’ll be nourished for today. The women of the Wild World know that today is all there ever is, ever was, and ever will be. We learned it from the sparrows singing, the lilies and the leopards.

Women of the Wild World have cultivated home within, so we are free to roam and wander, witness the wonders of Creation. The turtle, the snail, the horseshoe crab, are master gypsies leaving long slow trails in the sand for us to follow.

Women of the Wild World come in every shape and size. Some are slight and feathered, some are fanged and muscular. Some of us have eyes that see at night. Some live on berries and lettuce; some of us tear the guts from antelopes with our teeth. In the Wild World, claws and fangs are not exclusive to predatory birds, cougars or lions. Everything that lives there, lives not for itself alone.

The courage of the Wild Woman is epic; it is legendary. Fearlessness is not required, but stoutness of heart is the key that opens the doors of the cage. The Wildness knows when to move, when to hide, when to lunge. It depends upon the instincts of a million years of evolutionary experience. It draws it up through its sinewy muscle as it leaps over a log in pursuit of its prey.

The Wild World can bring you peace, but safety cannot be guaranteed. If it were, then liberated creation would be impossible, and we would never know our own innate capacities. Danger is important, for the women of the Wildness. It keeps our instincts sharp, like claws. It makes us love the dirt and sky. It teaches us to bear witness to what others will not see.

Sometimes we run with packs. Sometimes we are a lone. Sometimes we sleep in caverns. Sometimes we live in trees. Some of us live underwater. Some of us make the sky our home. Some of us can shift our shape, and live in any world, captivity excluded.

Women of the Wild World have fought hard to become. Listen for our songs at midnight when the moon is full, and the songbirds are asleep. Let us enter your dreams and call you to the edge of your captivity, and feed you the memories that will keep your wild heart alive while you find your way back home, to the place that you’ve forgotten. It has not forgotten you.

~ Alison Nappi

Art by Dorrie Joy Artist, “Mycelia”