I don’t want to be tame, there I said it.
But how is a woman to love or be loved in this world, how is she to live a fulfilled life as part of a community, can she ever use her godgiven power to give life, to become a mother, if she keeps her wildness?
Can a free woman love or be loved?
Can a woman stay free and yet take on the responsibility of giving life, nurturing it, tending it?
I want to travel, have a career, climb mountains, surf, and be full of sexual desire all my life.
I don’t want to give up this part of myself.
I don’t want to become a virgin or mother or crone or whore. I want to be all of them.
I don’t want to choose between Athena, Aphrodite, Hera, Hecate.
I don’t want to be a sinner or a saint.
I want to be a well dressed business woman who can offer herself all the comforts of life and the reward of building a career, becoming a leader, responsible, masterful.
I want to be a backpacker who left the pearls at home and wears the same pants for a week in a row sometimes, who carries all her possessions on her back, who owns very little except for the world unfolding at her feet, who is so unbelievably free.
I want to own a house and have a full 401k and travel the world continuously. I want to carry my baby in my backpack and stay childfree forever a girl in my heart. I want to take a lover when I fancy it, and to love one man for the rest of my life.
Freedom and responsibility are two sides of the same coin.
But wildness, the deep knowing that stability is an illusion and there is nothing less stable than your own illusory, transient self, that is more priceless than gold, and it could fit in a backpack or a briefcase, it could take me to the top of Mt Kilamanjaro and the top of the corporate ladder, it could sustain me through orgies or maybe, make every day an adventure till death do us part.
I want to be wild, I never want to be tame. Does this mean I will never give life? That my breasts will never give suck to an infant? That no one will ever truly love me because I refuse to sacrifice my deepest self for him, for the family, for the community?
Does wildness mean living alone in the woods of my own solitary heart forever?
I hope not.
Maybe wildness is the deepest root, the longest love.