The Wild brings me gifts.
Sometimes the gifts are great ones; a long, deep snow whitening the darkness of Winter, my Brother Orion striding across the skies.
Sometimes the gifts are small ones; bright green buds announcing Spring’s arrival, the first web of a spider awakening from a long winter nap.
Sometimes the gift is a small bird curious as to the boundaries of one world and another, human and not-human, inside and outside, wild and tame.
Given my druthers, give me The Wild. There the rules are clear, the rules are known. They are not subject to whimsy, to one or a few people’s whim, to last night’s bad piece of beef or undercooked potato.
I appreciate the tame warmth when The Wild is cold. I appreciate the tame light when The Wild is dark.
But I do not appreciate the undecisive future of the tame. There are many factors determining the path of The Wild and even the most extreme are known, recognized, and understood.
The tame’s path’s undecisiveness is uncalculable by all but the most advanced mathematics using tools few tame understand or can wield, effectively making The Wild the safer bet for natural longevity.
So if push comes to shove, look for me in The Wild. All are predator, all are prey, …
And all are welcome.
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