What feelings does this word evoke? What sorts of memories does it recall? Which of your senses start to tingle? How would you represent what this word means to you?
I have had Born Free stuck in my head most of today. That, I think, has a lot to do with it. Wild is the opposite of tame is not being in a cage is being free. Freedom is something that I have been thinking about, on and off, this year, but it has been more about being free from the constraints that I place upon myself. (Oh. Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains. Except I don’t quite believe that, because being born into chains – literal or metaphorical – is a long way from being born free.)
Wild is somewhere that I’m not ready to go, just yet.
Wild beasts. Les Fauves. Tiger, tiger, burning bright.
We were talking, my housemate, his mother, and I, this morning, about cats we have known; specifically, the cats that came into our families having been neglected in kittenhood, and how they have been alternately affectionate and vicious, as ready to scratch your face as to sit on your knee. That is a difficult place to be, between wildness and tameness, never quite trusting anyone else to look after oneself, and never quite trusting oneself to manage alone.
But then there are wild flowers and wild strawberries. I know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows – actually, it’s more of a cliff. And there is something there about going where one pleases, and doing what one pleases.
I don’t know. Lots of stuff here, and it doesn’t want to sit down and curl up neatly. Which, I suppose, is not all that surprising.