Types Two

Sometimes I wonder if there are only two types of people in this terribly modern awfully Western world.

The first are stackers, domesticated and well trained. They do what they have been told and stay locked into the sharply cornered boxes built for their safety, growing into their square but never beyond it. They crave comfort and hate anything that disturbs it, avoiding the rough edges and wild curves at all costs. They tut and control because it is all they know, shouting danger at the outsiders as warnings stain their pursed lips.

But the other kind are disciples of the wild, charging out of their comfy caves and into the full force of nature. They will not trade well hemmed safety in numbers for their free spirits, holding the elements as higher gods. They still trust their animal instincts and have refused to let fear or control steal their birthright.

We share secret joyful smiles, beaming at each other as the wind steals our superlatives and hurls them out to the pounding sea. We don't mind if our hair gets wet or our fingers get cold so we can feel fully alive. We lure our lovers out under full moons at midnight and drag our kids to headlands in wild storms. They learn, as we did, that the wild offers something untamed and beautiful that also thrums in us. And that its call is the only one that will teach us to fly.

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This is love. To fly towards a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First, to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.
~ Rumi

Words and pic. Kerrie Basha 2020