The funny thing is that today we have everything we used to dream of.
We can order food without leaving the house. We can start a film within three seconds. We can talk to someone on the other side of the world whilst sitting on our sofa.
And yet it sometimes feels as though we have less time than ever before.
Perhaps because convenience isn’t the same as freedom.
There was a time when I thought that freedom meant that everything had to be possible. Today, I think freedom is exactly the opposite.
Knowing what’s important – and having the courage to let the rest go.
Freedom does not lie in having more options. Freedom lies in being able to choose what you won’t do. An evening when you leave your mobile phone behind. A weekend with no plans. A walk with no destination. Not because you have to, but because you feel like it.
Last week I was sitting on a terrace where everyone was looking at their phones.
Not just now and then. Constantly. Whilst waiting for a coffee, during a conversation, even as the sun was setting. I only noticed it because I caught myself doing the same thing. As if something more important were constantly happening somewhere else.
A few days later, I was standing here, amongst the trees.
The fire wouldn’t catch straight away. The wood was a bit damp and I felt my first reaction was to become impatient. As if even a campfire had to be efficient. As if everything these days has to produce results as quickly as possible.
But fire pays no heed to that.
It simply does what fire has been doing for thousands of years. It takes its time.
Whilst I was sitting there waiting, something happened that never ceases to surprise me. Nothing grand. Nothing life-changing. Just that feeling that space is opening up again. As if a window were opening somewhere in your head and fresh air were flowing in.
Perhaps that’s why people long so much for places like this. Not because a treehouse is so special, but because life out there has sometimes become so full that we forget how little it actually takes to feel good.
An evening round a fire. Mud on your shoes. A conversation that doesn’t have to go anywhere. Children who disappear into the woods and only reappear when they get hungry.
These aren’t spectacular moments.
But when I think back on the things that have stayed with me, it’s almost always been these moments. Never the busiest days. Never the most impressive experiences. Rather, the moments when I was fully present.
Perhaps that is what we mean by ‘wild’.
Not loud. Not extreme. Not living life at a hundred miles an hour.
But being mindful enough to occasionally make a different choice from the crowd. Not to walk straight past beauty. Not to always fill every moment. To leave room for boredom, for inspiration, for a conversation that lasts longer than planned.
Because ultimately, it’s not the busiest days we remember.
It’s the days when we felt truly alive.
Welcome to the woods.
Bram & Karen
Stay Wild.
