by Rebecca Heisterhoff



…not in the stories of others. Not even in the study of history. The kind of knowledge I mean can only be found in the present; in this moment. And it can only be felt. It belongs to you, like the color of your eyes or the texture of your hair.

You will not find the entrance to this knowledge on any map. And there are certainly no shortcuts on the way. No tricks, no masks, no effort – no force will ever bring you close enough to catch it’s tail.

This knowledge is unique and at the same time it is part of the structure called life. Interconnected with everything that was and everything that will be. It is a knowledge that will reveal itself to you when you find a way to counter it. Quiet. Gentle.

Imagine yourself in a clearing in the woods. Waiting in silence. Patient. Just for a while. Imagine offering something. A part of you. Trustworthiness. Continuity. Curiosity. Compassion. When you leave, you don’t do it without the promise to come back. And you come back. Every single day you visit this clearing in the forest. Once you might only stay for one song. Another time to dance for an hour. Sometimes you just sit there quietly.

Maybe, one day, you’ll bring a canvas and colors to the clearing. A notebook. A drum. On other days you bring shells. Cookies. A poem. From time to time a prayer. A question?

One morning you wake up – you stopped counting the days a long time ago – and you realize that the clearing has become a part of you. It is no longer necessary to leave the house. Your heart is the clearing. The forest has become your body, your body has become a forest. A wide wild forest full of life, in which you know every lichen, moss and pebble.

Your soul has become a sea. A sea in which iridescent shadows live. All of a sudden you inhabit everything that can only be felt. Because your body knows. Your heart remembers. And your soul has attuned itself to the pace of life. There is no substitute for wildness.