I can trace back through my entire life, and see how even when the fear kicked in, She was always there, an aspect of myself taking soft sure footsteps. Carefully placed footsteps, made with the entire foot, spreading out and gripping the terrain, reading it. Accepting guidance from the cosmos, fine-tuning her compass to the constellations.

Feet searching for roots. Feet searching for texture and temperature. Feet reading the surface for clues as to what lived and breathed underneath. Spirit open for the gift of feathered wings sprouting from the solid trunk of a tree rooted for eternity in one place.

The under story. Animating force. That which bursts into being when the slabs of concrete shame fall away.

Recently an old dream haunts and reminds.

A gentle woman with long dark hair shows me a bit of earth. I watch to where her hand is indicating and see some leaves and then a stem, and finally a bud make its way up through the earth and into bloom as a beautiful flower, in the sped …

Something is different these days. It is as if my little girl self finally arrived at the intersection with my Wild knowing self, and after extensive nurturing by this wise woman, the little girl feels safe at opening her eyes, relieved to be waking up from her nightmares, and perhaps even a little excited.

After being sung to, rocked and soothed for so long to a place of release, the little girl self has climbed down off the Wild woman's lap and is ready to get outside.

The song of the wise Wild woman rests within in me as I venture out. Home is no longer clinging to the safety of four walls shutting out the outside. Home extends out the front door, out the garden path, up the mountain, to the river, ocean--wherever the dance may lead. The seeds I have sown are safely in the womb, there is no need to open the womb to see if the life-force has taken. It is time to trust. It is time to let go and let the life-force insure survival. It is time to wake up from all of this intense fe…