Wild Man


 Just now, at 5am on a full moon dawn,  when returning to my cot with a coffee, I glance out of the window trying to glimpse the wild man  as he runs naked in the moonlight.  

As I study the edges of light  my Adult Self seizes my childlike hope and quenches it with a bucket of cold fear. Reality shuts my Imagination down, replacing it with Fear. 

How often,  in our day to day,  does Fear smother our Adventurous Self?

Is that Wild Man actually me,  that party of me that seeks a crazy and playful existence?

Many years ago I studied readings of a Men's Movement.  Much of it written by athletic and literate older men, sage and gently spoken.  They urged their followers to evolve and embrace the wild-ness, the masculinity in life.  Tanned women joined the fray and ran bare breasted in the moonlight and all the young men followed them instead.  Now we have a generation of pale faced, soft fleshed boys staring blankly into blue screens. 

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