15/07/2025
Whilst deeply entangled in shapeshifting stories of Selkie, wolf-woman, bear and bird, the archetypal wild woman has been walking beside me often.
To be honest I’ve loved having her around
With her dancing step alongside mine I’ve been seeing the world through her wild eyes. Instinctual, alert, and attuned to the unsaid.
My son has become a mirror to this part of me. His frowns, his boundaries, his unfiltered expressions all reminders of the wild self I was taught to hide.
The more I sit with curiosity, the more I find myself wandering deep threads, some to untangle, some to reweave entirely.
Maybe you’ve felt her too, the wild one. stirring just beneath the surface.
Maybe it’s in the way your body tenses and braces when your truth is silenced.
In the sudden ache for space, silence, solitude.
She’s not always loud and snarling
Sometimes she’s a whisper in the bones.
A deep knowing in the gut.
A question that won’t leave you alone.
What parts of you have been exiled in the name of being good?
What truths live in your frown, your stillness, your refusal?
The wild doesn’t demand we burn it all down.
She asks us to stop pretending we are tame.
She doesn’t need you to be loud.
She needs you to be honest.
To feel the no in your body and let it
mean something.
To honour the pause, the instinct, the edge.
To speak, even if your voice shakes.
To rest when the world says produce.
To move the way your body is asking to move
She needs space, not permission.
She needs truth, not performance.
She needs you rooted, real, and listening.
What does your wild self need most right now?
