What wild means to me
Photo taken by Regina Hunt
Wild is being out on the land, any land, where I can feel the air moving about me and witness the trees dancing in the wind, hearing its whistle and feeling its movement on my skin. Where I can walk at a pace that matches my mood and the terrain. Amble? Take that hill? Sit and be still? When I enter a wild space, whether a local green park, deep forest, mountain or a meadow of wildflowers hosting pollinators I am instantly aware of God’s presence, as if She were waiting for me to show up in this place. I breathe deeply to take in the presence of the living beings around me and open myself to being seen and encountered by them and I am not disappointed. Wild is a place where I can go or be and speak my truth. I may be conversing with a tree, mirroring the movements of a gray heron across the canal, feeling the swoop of cormorants landing gracefully on the water. In those moments my wild self hears what I am seeing and responds. There is a bald cypress tree on one of the canals near me and she and I have been friends for many years. Her name is Tree 548 – her name badge says. I know her as Beautiful.
She is like a grandmother who is always present and willing to listen to whatever I need to share. She soothes my soul and encourages me. The majesty of other beings who share our planet makes my heart sing with gratitude. They may be rugged mountains, a bubbling brook, or my garden, and when I am among them, I am at peace and feel myself as the self that God made me to be. I am authentic, no pretense, no mask to hide what I’m thinking or feeling. I am enfolded in pure Love from the Source.
A journal entry of my experience from my first wander:
I went outside to eat a sandwich before going to the Chinaberry grove where I had intended to go. When I walked out the back door to sit down, I noticed all the plants and flowers seemed to stand taller and closer leaning toward me. All the Salvia moved closer to me and there were Monarchs on the milkweed. Everything was in its place but for a few minutes they all focused on me, watched and waited for me to speak taking steps toward me saying “we’re here for you.” They knew that I had received difficult news, and they were with me supporting me, making their statement of support by drawing closer and standing taller.
“You know, don’t you?” I asked and in chorus they replied, “yes, we know and we’re sorry that this is happening for you. We’re here for you. “Stay with us today. You can go to the Chinaberry grove tomorrow. You need to be here today.”
“Thank you for loving me and knowing so I didn’t have to say the words. I am not ready to say the words. It’s going to take some time to be able to do that.”
I notice that one Monarch seems to be staying near while the others have moved on for now. She moves from milkweed to salvia to horseweed to cannas staying close to me. Small bees fly around and near me as if to say, “we’re here, too.”
I feel some resistance in the form of “you should be out somewhere seeking wilder places” but I push that aside. I need to be here in the comfort of my space with my sister/brother plants that offer me such beauty and comfort. I’m in awe of their compassion toward me today. They know I need them and they’re here, being who they are – dancing in the breeze for me, showing their vibrant colors in an effort to bring their natural beauty to my attention – reminding me that in this darkness light can still shine. I’ve loved them from the moment they arrived and were planted, but this garden attained new meaning today. They love me in return by their knowing and being present, speaking their words of comfort in their own language. Now the blue jay has arrived and perched in the nearest tree. He seems to be crying the tears that won’t come just yet. They’re in me, just not ready to fall. Another bird arrives. I don’t know who he/she is but he/she is singing a mournful song and I feel that it’s meant to soothe my trouble heart.
My Monarch is still here. She has not left me. I feel her moving around me. They usually move from one garden to the next, but today she has stayed here with me. I am grateful for her presence as she stays near me and calls her friends to join us. Today has soothed me and I received the gift of understanding and connection from a source I had not anticipated. Isn’t that the way God works?
Regina Hunt is a trained spiritual director, former change management and training consultant and longtime friend of Retreat House serving in multiple capacities. She also works closely with Faith and Grief Ministries working with various grief groups. She recently graduated from Seminary of the Wild.
Regina Hunt is a trained spiritual director and former change management and training consultant. You can reach her here.