Be Wild, Be free

August 1, 2011

FREEEDOM oil pastel sketch, digitally enhanced



One of my all time favourite women C P Estes,  who seems to write from a place that touches my soul, posted  this poem on facebook this morning,  it sure resonates with me.  It is a  poem about choosing a new life, letting the wild wolf lead you on a new journey…………..

So many of us get stuck with the demons, as we get older we allow the demons to keep us small, never straying from the known.  But there is a time in our lives when the wolves and the demons can beckon us, let the wolves win, let them steel you away, take you to that place of wildness where life looms large, where uncertainty makes us grow and rise to any challenges that comes our way.  We may get tipped off the path, fall now and again, but our wildness and the keen senses of the wolf will keep us alert, alive and full of passion.

The call came to me in my 40’s, thankfully for me I chose the wolf, life turned on its head, I grew beyond measure.  It take scourage to run with the wolves, try it, you will never look back.



My children grown, the old folks safe in the TV room.

I climb onto the sled made of my chest bones, sinew from my guts,

bundles of food and water wrapped in my own scarred belly skin.

All is fastened down with rope made from years

of my long hair taken from my brush.

My wolves bite the air. It is snowing like a dunja slashed.

My wolves nudge, nudge; they know we are going at last.


O my children, look out the window and see

your mother riding over the edge of the world.

O my Mother, O my Father, raise up out of your bandages

and bottles. See me vanish straight into the stinging sun.


But no, my parents rattle and creak in their sleep;

my offspring are busy with where to place noses while kissing. . .


My family so sleeping, they do not hear the traces as they pull

from out the frost, snapping taut, flipping snow shatters.

My lead males rise in their shaggy frocks;

their paws make mice sounds in the snow.

and we are off in a silver spray,

over the edge of the globe,

my mighty ocean of fur and steam,

stealing me for a future time and place.


The plumes of my wolves tails fly us forward

and we ride, we ride, through ponds of stars

that sashay back and forth on their sky ribbons

as my sledge runners divide them.


Now begins a storm of paper sheet—

barrels and barrels of scrip,

reams and reams of white page,

brown bag, envelopes, all these

dropped by mill hands with muscled arms

and rolled-up sleeves

who smile down on us and cry,

“Go on! Go on!”


All the paper I never had.

All the time I never had.

All the flesh and guts of my life

stored here on this sled,

and I have been lucky enough

to be stolen by wolves

for a future time and place.


As one gathers more years, the mind

can be carried off by demons

or stolen by wolves…

and both will inevitably show up.


Choose the wolves.



and, I would say to you too dear souls:

Leaping wolves will ever make life bigger

even though the sledge might veer and tremble as it flies…

whereas squatting demons will ever keep life small…

otherwise they wouldn’t be called demons,

for they do not rise in harness for your ends, but instead

want to force you into harness for their ends.


I know you know the difference.

Carol mother earth 4 small file

As we begin to journey with the feminine energies, we begin to connect with our true selves, learn to distinguish which voice is speaking, the chatter in the head or the voice from your heart, your soul voice, the wisdom of your intuition.  There is a wonderful story,  an old eastern european fairy tale about Vasalisa and her little doll, how she is sent on a journey to meet the Old Crone, the Dark feminine,Baba Yaga.  Its all about INTUITION and DISCRIMINATION, gifts beyond measure.  I recommend you read this story, a beautiful version can be found in WOMEN WHO RUN WITH WOLVES by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Click here to purchase

” The way to maintain one’s connection to the wild is to ask yourself what it is that you want. This is the sorting of the seed from the dirt. One of the most important discriminations we can make in this matter is the difference between things that beckon to us and things that call from our souls.

Nowhere can this be seen more clearly than in the choice of mates and lovers. A lover cannot be chosen a la smorgasbord. A lover has to be chosen from soul-craving. To choose just because something mouthwatering stands before ou will never satisfy the hunger of the soul-self. And that is what the intuition is for; it is the direct messenger of the soul.”

Clarissa Pinkola Estes (Women Who Run with the Wolves)