When I set out on this journey just about four months ago, I thought I had a general idea of the wildness I was in pursuit of. I knew the Lord had spoken the word “wild” over me, and I was excited to set out on an adventure of a lifetime to pursue living wildly.
I guess I had this idea of wild being this somewhat rural, feral, and rough around the edges feel… maybe it meant rolling around in the dirt, or showering in lakes, or living off the land, or tackling a bear with my bare hands (ok maybe last one a bit of a stretch), but you get the picture. I expected to feel most wild when I was climbing to a rugged mountaintop or exploring uncharted backcountry with blisters all over my feet…
0 Comments
Why is freedom so hard sometimes?
Why do I feel captive while running wild? Well, I guess that’s the thing… I’m not running wild. I’m stuck. Frozen. Paralyzed… I see the open meadow in front of me, full of blooming wildflowers, and glistening streams… and yet, here I stand in the grass. Frozen. Stuck. Paralyzed. |
Note From Author:God talks to me through nature. I hope and pray He talks to you through my writings here.
Stay Wild Friends. |