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November 4, 2020

For the Wild Ones who Are Never Happy.

There are those among us who take life at face value.

But, there are also those of us who never seem to be satisfied with what is given; our thirst for understanding never slaked by the simplicity of what lies on the surface.

We are the inappeasable ones who never cease digging for greater clarity, understanding, and depth. Life, we say, is but one great puzzle to be chipped away at, year after year, day after day, until once and for all we are surrendered into the great beyond.

Will we ever find our satisfaction, our nirvana, our bliss in having solved the great mystery? 

Probably not, because beyond this mystery lies another, and then another, and still another after. But it is our searching which quenches us just enough to keep looking for more. It is the teasing of achievement which tantalizes our hunger and precludes our complacency.

Sure, there is a simplicity and comfort to be found in acceptance and surrender. To float along the currents without seeking out their source is as honorable a way to live as any other. But it is not for us—not at all.

When we find ourselves confronted with a challenge, we solve it and keep right on walking, not onward to the next task, but deeper into the depths of the forest which stands before us, seeking out the answers to why and how.

These are not questions we ask of the world, whimpering as victims to the weight unwillingly thrust upon us. No, these are words uttered from our lips, minds, and hearts, imploring the mystery of the universe to unfold before us that we might learn something of ourselves in the process.

We ask the sky of the ways in which our wounds imprison us. We ask the river how we might carry our burdens with greater delight and grace. We beg of the fawn and the eagle to shed their wisdom upon us that we might become more wild, more free, more attuned to our instincts.

And we are answered.

Not often, but always.

Our answers come in tongues we don’t yet understand, but find themselves lodged in our minds in such a way that they seem to creep out when we least expect them, revealing their lessons once we’ve grown enough to comprehend.

Our answers come in more questions, beacons of light leading the way to greater knowing through profound unknowing. We are given our due response in little winks from God herself, never answering us completely but encouraging us to keep pondering.

The greatest and only way to untangle a knot is to trace back the thread.

For some, these answers are not but irritating. The ambiguity of the language in which the world speaks enrages their logical minds and brings a swift death to the outpouring of questions.

But for us, the dance is intoxicating, the rhythm itself enriching our lives. We sway to-and-fro with our yearning, our feet never quite keeping up, but our heads thrown back in laughter.

Except when we don’t. Because sometimes we don’t.

Sometimes we labor and fight back tears and struggle onward through foreboding deserts, so parched for any sort of logic or sense that we fear we may never make it through. These are the nights spent staring at the ceiling, or wandering the streets, wondering all the while why we must always ask why.

But eventually, we circle round to the main point of it all and chuckle, because we realize that for better or for worse, we are better for our woes. Whether we like it or not, we are who we are because of the questions we must always ask, and it is our questioning itself which makes life worth living.

So to those who are like me, and must always ask why or how or when or who, never stop asking proper questions; and if you’re not sure what next to ask, search your heart and find the places where your knowing stops. It is from that cliff which you must jump, and jump you must.

The entire universe awaits you.


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