In the wilderness, there are no easy exits, no signposts or pavements. We are insignificant in the expansive and intimidating cathedrals of power; tiny unseen scratches on the primeval rock face of time.
It is a place of sweeping vistas and magnificent contrasts, where extremes can suddenly change form without warning, into sudden storms or a burst of light across a dark plain. Volcanic eruptions, endless deserts, crumpled mountain ranges; the molten creative spirit is unpredictable – awesome and beautiful and deadly...
Wild are the creatures that can survive and thrive in the wilderness and have wildness in their heartbeat and the beating of their wings. Wild is an acceptance of natural forces greater than ourselves and a degree of acquiescence to those forces, which means being crushed and absorbed if necessary, but also the ability to swim and merge and allow the wilderness to create an updraft on which to glide.
We have not forgotten these forces and the power of gliding with them. We are still afraid of being in the wild places and the dangers are still very real: mortality, loss of control, the inability to protect ourselves… And also the thrill, the challenge, the reward of temporary alignment – everything we undertake comes down to the balance of these things.
We are still wild, living in the wilderness, inside, when we see without distraction. There are unpaved places within us that can expand without warning into overwhelming internal scenery. We have to adapt and surrender constantly to survive.
I love this and don’t want to become tame – I want to dive and swoop and glide and take my chances of being obliterated. So I am drawn to wild places where the powers of creation and destruction are pure and raw; I feel small and do not worry, because I surrender. I am a tiny mirror that beams with excitement in recognition of my wild reflection.