Self in Northern Uganda, reflection in Land Rover window. April 2010.
I could tell you about climbing on top of a fire truck to watch an effigy burn in Jodhpur. Or I could tell you about dipping naked into Alaska’s ice-blue glacial stream. Maybe I could tell you about the wild Land Rover ride in Northern Uganda, on a path half the width of the vehicle, or about diving off a boat in the Greek Islands to swim to the red hot springs. There was the apparition sighting on a solo trek to Chaco Canyon in the New Mexico desert, the arrival of my two children, each at home on the living room floor, and, more recently, the death and re-birth of my marriage.
I have many stories of accessing my wildness, and what it is to be a woman seeking the full expression of aliveness and connection. I’ve counted on these experiences as affirmations that I am really here. I needed this archive of strong memories to remind me of blurred edges and busted boundaries, of the arresting presence of awe and humility.
But something has shifted now, as I’ve passed through 40′s doorway, and I am making my way into the fullness of myself. While I still want to explore the souks in Marrakesh and journey around a fire in the jungles of Peru, and I have no doubt that I will, the most wild action I can conjure in this moment is to stare at walls.
Some might call it the true hero’s journey, to go as deep into being with every ache and lived experience as one possibly can. To feel everything and to not move away from what arises. For me, the call to retreat now is as strong as any other calling I’ve felt. It is a mute and solo traveling, taking me into an awareness and a consciousness that rides the edge of every fear and wound. The guides have taken me as far as they can, and this feels like the moment when my own inner guidance system must take over, when I become the teacher I was born to be. There is no looking out, only looking in.
I am currently spending a lot of time staring at walls. My breath is caught in the same way it was when I first saw the Andes in Chile, my adrenaline is charged in the same way it was when I rode on the back of a motorcycle with a stranger at dawn, and my heart is as raw as it was when I first knelt at a Guru’s feet.
So, in the truth of this moment, the only wild story I can think to offer you now is one of a woman sitting, still, for perhaps the first time in her life.
Lisa Field-Elliot is currently unsure of her bio. She is known to write, to take photos, and to live for beauty and conscious connection.
She shares her experiences, in words and images, at doorwaystraveler.com.