The Wild In Me

{Unraveling}

I have been thinking about why I am the way I am. Why would a suburban kid with parents who never showed any interest in raising animals, growing food or nature have such an uncontrollable, inate magnetism to that exact life?

Is this an irrovocable call on my life shaped by forces greater than I? Is my genetic code marked by ancestors long dead who gave me more than a persistent mannerism?

When I was a kid, supposed to be asleep, under the cotton comforter, I held a flashlight in one hand and The Hatchet in the other. One after the other, without thinking about why, I gravitated towards titles such as, Little House on The Prairie, The Boxcar Children, Island of The Blue Dolphins, Heidi, The Secret Garden, Anne of Green Gables-- The list goes on.. and on... and on. Did I know, without knowing, that I was destined for a life filled with wild gardens, forest walks, trees, flowers, rising bread and seasonal meals made with what the land gives in abundance?

My ancesty is marked with folks who lived off the land, simply and naturally, in the many distant countries that I've never been to but feel apart of. Is there a place in my spirit filled with memories that I myself didn't have personally? Are there lights on that I myself didn't strike with a match? I weigh these thoughts out and come back to the same conclusion--

I am different for a reason.

There has to be a reason.

Many woman in the homesteading, gardening, living- off-the-land community would say the same thing about themselves. The Internet is an amazing tool that has brought all us "different" women together and connected us by a common thread. That doesn't mean we are all the same, but I think we all share a common belief that life should be full of life. Life should be buzzing, wild with color, filled with birds and butterflies, flowers and trees, branches and brambles, thickets and seeds. A life that makes us feel so damn much but we don't hide from it. We lean into it.

I am observing that women similar to myself are rising to the occasion to be who they were made to be without apologizing.

If the people I used to know in highschool were told that I now live on an elevan acre homestead in Northern Wisconsin, I truly believe most would say something' along the lines of, "that makes sense.” I've always gotten along but never felt like I belonged. It didn't always make sense to me but now, I feel it so strongly that I was made with purpose for a purpose. Maybe you feel that too. I hope you do.

If my rambling have resonated, please let me know by liking or commenting. Knowing your here is nice, for reasons I haven't quite figured out.

Until next time,

Jackie