Wild Spirit Free

My intention is liberation--- the liberation of the soul from systems that weigh it down and binds it up in  rigid rules, conformity and performance. My intention for this piece is to show the soul knows the way to its divine purpose. My intention is to show how being wild, deep and creative can be a gift once you learn to trust and listen to your soul’s inner guidance and voice. The soul knows, even without knowing why, that we, as a human collective, can all be uniquely ourselves and still be undeniably connected. Let your spirit be free.

First, I have to share my story.

I remember being told I mumbled as a little kid, that what I said sounded like gibberish. What no one saw was how much I had to say from day one, even before I had the speech development to express it. And even when I did have more words, the feelings were so big, the little words I had, didn't come close to expressing them. Joy, deep sadness, fear, anger, trepidation, and wonder ---those are some “feeling words” that come to mind now. They were visitors, filling my tiny body, clanging and vibrating. I could feel them with my entire being. They were as big then as they are now in my adult body, needing somewhere to go, some way to be expressed--but only expressed in fast-paced babble, or wept out in a fountain of tears, or exuberant leaps of joy.

  Today, I am liberating the girl who had so much to say, who felt all these big emotions within her entire body but couldn’t find the words to express it or make herself heard. I am telling her story. I am giving her the gift of self-expression, It is long overdue. I am going to let her wild spirit free.

 My parents thought I was deaf when I was a toddler because I didn't respond to my name. What no one saw was the state of wonder I was in while looking at a bubble, or white dandelion head. What no one saw was me immersed in a world of wonder and delight as magical as any fantasy world, I didn't need wizards, magical creatures or a secret world, I was just deeply present to this one. What no one saw was my rapt attention, awe, and sacred presence.

What no one saw was how I was struggling with sensory sensitivity issues. The tags in my shirt felt like razor blades.  Socks that weren't smooth and soft felt like walking on pebbles, I could feel each little nub of cotton individually, it was deeply uncomfortable and if the sock’s seam wasn't perfectly aligned on my toes, it felt painful.  I would rip them off, give my feet a reset and start over. For a long time, until the age of 12, I wore baggy clothes and leggings because only real denim jeans existed at the time they were thick, hot, stiff and felt like wrapping my legs in sandpaper. leggings were not in fashion in the 90s, as I was informed by my fellow classmates.   My mom trying to comb my hair was a nightmare---it was a daily battle. I have very fine hair that gets easily tangled and knotted, and it felt like she was ripping it out, the pain felt like needles, all over my head feeling each individual strand being pulled at once.

In this case my parents did notice the behaviors--the fights to get my socks on in the morning, hairbrush battles, my mom needing to buy underwear that was 3 sizes too big for me. I have gained weight as an adult but when I was a kid, I was quite thin and was swimming in my clothes. but my parents didn't really notice it being an issue or weird. I guess they accepted the constant fighting about socks as a normal childhood thing, seeing me as sensitive or difficult and just trying to do the mission of every parent, getting out of the door. What they didn't see was the underlying connection, that I felt everything intensely.

When I was a child, I let my joy and delight lead. I chased my delight down a very tall sand dune at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park on the coast of Lake Michigan. I was fearless, running with full delight, full heart and glee. I’m sure the dune was high.  I don’t remember being afraid of it because I knew I would just slide down. I remember the delight of the slide down and the climb back up. Now as an adult, in this memory I  notice my dad struggling who had to follow is “wild terror” child down a sand dune.  I don’t remember my body ever being one bit scared of this wild adventure. I was full of energy never ending. It was joyful energy. Creative energy. Wild untamed delight.

Like running down the sand dune, I followed delight and glee everywhere without hesitation as a young child, a young spark. In preschool one day, we were making self-portraits. Before me was a long table made for preschoolers, low to the ground, with a pre-outlined silhouette of a person in front of every little blue chair. I loved art as a kid. In creative abandon, I started to color mine---purple splotch here, blue splotch there, yellow wherever my crayon landed. I even remember inspiring another kid into creative play with me. We were giddy and giggling over our masterpieces.

This is the first time I remember getting in trouble for my creative spirit. I am going to be honest ---I’m not sure exactly how it went. Did I start before instructions were given or if I just didn't follow them? I didn’t mean to outright disobey. I was always wanting to please as a child and would have done so. But as a little kid of five, I might have heard the spark of creative inspiration first and have been gone to the world, throwing myself into wild creative play. I got in trouble and was made to do it over again.

Apparently, we were supposed to make an accurate depiction of our image-- -the right hair color, the right skin color etc. What they didn't see was how accurate the first self-portrait was - showing my wild, deep feeling, creative spirit. My creative wild self, deep feeling self would learn to disconnect from this self, to feel shame for being so different, for having learning difficulties and for being so sensitive and it would take make me years, to find her, to reconnect and to come home.