Our Wild

Have you ever encountered a book that has changed your life? The sort of book that sucks you inside its pages and frees the words that are trapped inside you.

A relationship with a book is so intimate; the ink on the page tickles your senses, touches parts of you that have been numbed by the functionality of daily life, and releases the dreams and journeys that your truest self longed for. The world that you create in your mind, as you absorb the words on the pages, is yours and yours alone.

Some of the books I've picked up have had a profound resonance - Man's Search for Meaning by Frankl, Markings by Dag Hammarskjold (a must for diplomats!) and the Colour Purple by Walker have drawn out tears and a huge range of emotions that I didn't know I was aware of. Some kind of maturing, I suppose.

Lately, I'm struggling through a book recommended to me by a friend who combs the treasures of the Amazon Rainforest; it came out of the blue and has been challenging me since: Women Who Run with the Wolves.

My cynical side wrinkled its nose at the somewhat woo-woo kind of read that this book presented, but I tried to dive into it with an open mind. The words are beautifully composed, the stories solemnly curated from the collective folks and legends and tales of Mexico, East Europe, the Arctic. Once you get into the book, it feels less than a book, and more like sitting in the middle of a group of old, wise women passing down their knowledge and love to you through the ages.

At times I found myself thinking 'dafuq am I reading' but at other times, the book stirred a longing to take off my shoes, stick my feet in the mud and raucously dance in the rain; to escape the trap of the concrete jungle and abandon myself to my most primal state, one where emotions and intuition and creativity haven't been dulled by the demands of functional living. To recognise myself as a whole person, not merely a machine whose worth is evaluated by their productivity, as per the 'KPIs' and metrics of society.

It makes me reach out for freedom, and imbues me with a sense of courage to shed the old skin and become shining new. Shed the thoughts, self-limiting beliefs, ideas, relationships, schemes and things which no longer serve me.

We do this so well: our lexicon shrinks to the functionality of daily reports and opinion pieces, punctuated by the buzzword of the day (Crypto! AI! Synchronicity!). Our brushstrokes become the timid lines of a hastily drawn map. The colours we wear sober down to muted browns, grays and blacks in an effort to fit the mold of 'elegance'.

Did you experience this 'dulling of the colours' at any point?

Sitting in the Azulik treehouse in Tulum, surrounded by the greenery of the jungle, I resolved to repair the bridge between myself and nature.

To stick my feet in the soil at every chance I get.

To stop fearing the stares of society and go for the bright colours.

To live up to my name, which means rain, and dance in the downpour.

To scream over the waves and jump in the water.

To use humour and wit unabashedly instead of being overly fearful of bureaucracies.

To assert my voice, my love of the world, and my joy of life in the face of monotony, rigidity, and fragmented rules which serve no one.

What's your list made of?

Ps. Thank you Sofia for the recommendation. And a shout-out to the people who are being authentic to their selves and letting their inner 'wild women' run free!