The Call of the Wild

It is sunset.  Dusk. The twilight colors of soft peach are peering above the tree line as I stand on our stone walkway, gazing out across the meadow at the ridge tops.  Something called me to come outside, and I went. I had been inside most of the day, surrounded by furniture, unmoving, contained air, and other frozen, human constructs.

But…when I went outside, I heard it.  The call of the wild.  The coyotes were singing in the twilight, somewhere over the mountain. Their song surged out of them, into the night. They seemed to be singing of their day, of all that they had smelled and seen, all that they had heard, and witnessed, and hunted, and accomplished. All that they felt. They sang to the sky, to one another, to nothing, perhaps, in particular.  They sang just to sing. They were filled to the brim with life, and it flowed out of them so naturally, filling up the world. I felt a great joy and yearning course through me, as if all of the magic of the world, the wild, unexplainable mystery of the world was rising into the sky and floating up to meet the stars. It freed me.

Later, as I turned to go back into the house, I thought, perhaps this is why people turn against those of the wild, because they CAN and DO express it all, because they do sing their hearts out, whereas we do not, unless we are a performer and paid to do so – or else someone locked up in a mental ward. Maybe we resent it, all of the societal constrictions and restrictions we have placed upon ourselves and are trapped by… if we stopped and sang our hearts out, as the wild folk do, if we sang out all the wonder and beauty or pain and loss of our day, we would be viewed with fear, embarrassment, and terror, and perhaps even carted away. So, the night is not filled up with our song, our serenade to life. It is the wild folk who sing of this. It is they who wander through and sense, moment by moment, all of the magic and mysteries of this world.

And yet, hearing the call of the coyotes, I was filled with wonder…so, so happy that there are still some wild folk left to sing into the night, to revel in that song, unrestrained, to say it all, to sing to the moon.

A fervent prayer rose unbidden within me…..May they all be protected, and teach us, these free ones – may they thrive.  Please, please Great Spirit,  protect them, one and all.

1 Comment

  1. Savannah on October 31, 2017 at 10:17 am

    This is so beautiful and inspiring, Ayal!

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