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There have been times in my life where the first thing I did every morning was step outside and breathe the fresh air of a place surrounded by the rest of the living world.

The fresh air -warm and inviting in the summer, but crisp and powerful in the winter- filled my lungs before I did anything else and deeper than thought, my body knew what it meant to be alive.

I think suburbia does something to a man.

It does something to a woman as well, and everything in between. But in the esoteric views of core energetic essence, the yang that we often call masculine is empowered by challenge.

The pressure of a world saying ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you. Now it’s time to participate as the activate Will of the universe’ does something for (or possibly to) the yang in all of us. Something between loving  encouragement and what we’d personify as a brotherly dare.

In those days it was something of a mission I had, in a depth of my self, to complete. A communion with the rest of this living world. A connection to all of the things we humans seemed to disregard and use at will. And I suppose, in a way, to prove something to myself.

I had to see the roots of it all and come back with a knowing, or die trying.

At first it was subtle.
Then it became an intense fervorous rush.
Into the wild.
I went alone. Then I went with an immersion course of 10-14 individuals at a time.
Then I went with allies to the hunt. And again, I settled back into going alone.

I found something out there but it’s not always the easiest to articulate.

The knowing is in the cells of my feet where they touched moss and pine needle.
The knowing is in my hands where they dipped slowly into ice-cold streams.
The knowing is in my heart where the roots of human touched me.

My mouth tries.
My fingers attempt.

But this sort of thing is experienced by other parts of the self than brain and intellect. Some of us try to explain. Most accept that it is unexplainable.

I weave the lessons I learned into my life and my conduct like the willow baskets we made sitting around quiet fire in tall tipi.

I bring as much of it into my day as I can,
Setting sleepy feet on cold cobbles,
With the sun peaking around houses
To spread across manicured grass lawns.

I modeled my business and my service after these places that my wild form had met and befriended, for a time…
until I stayed too long in the cities and convinced myself that I must do it another way… the business way.

But that adventure has ended.
Something new is brewing.
It is a culmination of all that I’ve seen.
It is a return to a wild knowing
And a use of the strategies learned
Only when they fit a need.

My hands tingle with the sensation of a universe teeming with energy and life. I can feel my family again. The trees and the rocks and the rivers. My ears remember the birds that used to be as common as breath in my days.

I don’t know what’s next. I don’t need to know.

My soul remembers the tracks of our journey, and it’s time to go home.

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