Wolf Snow Dawn
On vulnerability and being where I truly belong
Welcome to Inner Source.
As we start a new year, I wish to renew my commitment to life and for living, for being ourselves with all our faults and flaws and for accepting other people as they are. So I invite you to pause, take a breath and make some space for stillness; to feel your entire body and all the powerful things it has to say, then go out there and live it all, kind souls.
On the final day of Beth Kempton’s Winter Writing Sanctuary I sat for one last time on the brown leather sofa of our Airbnb and opened the laptop. For the last three days I have indulged in my writing time away from home, before spending the days with my son and his girlfriend celebrating his birthday. What has unfolded has been a proper weekend away - long brunches and lunches, watching an evening rugby match in the cold January air, a few beers in a lively pub with his friends, a visit (my first) to Bath (more eating!) and a trip to the cinema. All in all, a thoroughly lovey time.
On the long drive back up North, I tried to make sense of the words which I’d left on the page earlier.
Nothing comes to my pen as I try to write a clever story about a wolf. Some form of lyrical metaphor-resplendent tale of a strong, independent and fiercely resilient woman who remains embedded in her role as protector and nurturer.
It’s too cliched and obvious as the words stutter onto the page about fervent howls and giant yet graceful paws carrying her back to her pack after a night-watch. Right now I am wishing I’d picked another selection of prompts but I also know I need to stick not twist. Otherwise I’ll remain stuck in my self-doubt of not being good enough at descriptive writing.
All week, the pangs of only half doing the daily colour-study tasks have gut-punched me. Away from home these past few days means even if I was so inclined, creating a colour page in my book is nearly impossible rather than merely unlikely.
I return back to the crafted sentence I want to curate about my mysterious she-wolf, standing on the snowy hillside vehemently protecting her pups and her lifelong mate.
My she-wolf returns at dawn after the night terrors and nightmares hold her captive in my lungs. Crying out to be heard where only silence prevails. Night’s blackness gives way to the morning light. Vulnerability at birth naturally withdraws but how affirming of her place in this pack to return there; lay out all her fears and dreams unburdened of the threat of judgement, assured only of love in return. The powerful creature I observe from afar, shrouded in mystery and mythology simply wants to belong. There is no lone wolf. The false idea of a maverick beast taking on the world single-handedly, unbothered by or needing companions or support. A wolf separated from its pack is an outcast, not a hero. She does not howl at the moon, she calls to her pack.
Reflecting on the last couple of weeks, I feel a sense of contentment about the place I have arrived at. My own personal wranglings to find peace with the season led me to write an essay before Christmas on releasing the ghosts of the past. Two weeks on, I can recognise the shift in my reactions to my reactions.
Vulnerability at birth naturally withdraws but how affirming of her place in this pack to return there; lay out all her fears and dreams unburdened of the threat of judgement, assured only of love in return.
The ease of the last few, albeit busy, days rest so lightly on my shoulders and in my heart I can let go of all my questions. There is no need to keep wondering where I am, I can simply be here.
With gratitude
Jacqui
Love this
This is beautiful and brave and honest. I enjoyed it 🙏✨