Sometimes a woman’s just got to go, to hit the open road and ride until the noise stops and all you can hear are the bumps and sizzle of the tires on the asphalt. It’s a mesmerizing sound, like a mind purr, and it gives a great calmness of mind.
I’ve got to go, got to hit that road and hit it hard. Don’t know where I’m going and don’t really care, just have to get the body moving through space and into another place. I’ve got to feel the air of another country on my skin, smell the scents of another region, and hear the sounds of something other than what my life has been every day up here in Vancouver.
This happens to me once, sometimes twice a year. Something comes over me. Call it an instinct or a primitive feeling. I don’t question it, I don’t negate it and, most of all, I don’t ignore it or chalk it up to a childish urge. You know the whole, “Well, I’m a wife, mom, professional career woman. I can’t just go on a whim like I used to” kind-of-crap.
I will always have something wild inside of me. It is who I am as a woman. I am far from tame or domesticated. And that ungovernable thing is not just for the “me” I was in college. As a matter of fact, I’m more prepared now for the wild thing in me than I was at twenty. Honoring this stormy nature keeps me thriving and alive. It is the whole nature of the primal feminine. I trust it and know that, within two weeks of getting this itch to travel, I have to make it happen. I don’t know what would happen if I don’t make it happen but I sure don’t want to find out. So I go.
The spirit of a wild woman rumbles inside each of us. It needs to be there. And it needs to be heard. To connect us to the primal side of life, that side of life that is driven by passion and instinct and verve. When you lose that you lose your center, you lose your lust for life, you lose your wolven self. And all that would be left is an empty domesticated creature looking out from behind a dingy window. Pining. This wild-ass woman sometimes has got to go and feel the edge of life on the brink of the world.
Yes, I mean you too. You have her. You may not have felt her urge to move, but listen hard somewhere deep inside, and your wildness may be calling out to you.
The signs are obvious: you may be feeling claustrophobic in your home, having a hard time catching your breath, or focusing. It’s like you have an itch you can’t seem to scratch. You may be snapping at those you love or dreading each impending moment of the day… these are signs that you need to get a move on it. This is what I call my “down-and-dirty-get-the-hell-out-of-dodge” travel philosophy. It is my favorite way to travel.
I get a general direction or gut feeling and either do something old-fashioned like grabbing a map at the gas station down the street or, if where I want to go is in another state, I’ll book a plane reservation and that’s it. I’ll find my way.
Sometimes I’ll have an ache to see or breathe the same air that I breathed as a kid. Well, I live about 3000 miles from the Jersey shore, so I’m just going to fly into Philly, find my way into Jersey, and have at it from there. Yes, it is a scary and out-of-control way to explore but that is what is so vivid about it. Life is not planned in this universe but unfolds minute by minute with daily decisions.
Do I take a left or a right at this intersection? Do I stop in this town to eat or the next one? You can actually go so far as to not know where you are going to sleep at night. Trust that you will find a bed in a motel/hotel, bed, and breakfast, or with a friend. Not knowing where you are going to end up on any given day and finding yourself in the middle of a place you could not have even imagined is the greatest lesson I’ve ever had in trust and the flow of life. Knowing that I have control over nothing is a sweet gift.
This happened so vividly with me once. I drove across the country from New York to Los Angeles via the Southern route. My car blew up in a little town called Flagstaff, Arizona. I was stranded for three days waiting for a part. When tooling around in a little rental, I found myself gaping into the most unfathomable sight I could have ever happened upon.
I was sitting at the edge of the Grand Canyon, gazing down at the magnificence of God, Allah, Jah, the Goddess. I had no preconceived ideas in my mind of what the Grand Canyon was because I had not built up any expectations. Imagine the visceral impact… breathtakingly beautiful, immense, and spirit rattling.
When you need to, just go. Trust that what you will find is peace of mind. Listen to your wild child inside… know when to go and make it happen, even if it’s just for a day. If you have kids, bring them. Let them taste the flavor of adventure. Stir it up, sister, let her loose… have a vision quest in the mountains, shack up in a motel an hour’s drive from your home, camp beside a raging river, curl up into a warm cozy bed and breakfast in a town you’ve heard about for years but never visited.
If you can’t drive, open the front door and walk. Walk until you can’t walk any further. You will come back to your life with the freshness of sight and perspective. Things that seemed like such a big deal will no longer carry the weight that they did. The things that are important will emerge and make themselves known. Living life on this edge is inspiring, sometimes even transforming… it will let you come back to your world and create the life you want to live.
