Wise and Wild
My feet are free,
To breathe,
To dance upon the earth, naked,
In the beauty of turquoise waters.
They tread paths old and new,
To meet the grandmothers beyond.
Collecting emerald seaglass,
On the sun-kissed sand.
A rythmic connection,
sprinkling stardust, weaving magic,
Each step, a whispered song,
As I wander where I belong.
My feet rejoice, and so do I. Four solid days, no shoes, no flip-flops, not even socks. It's a rarity for me to go barefoot outside my home for more than a fleeting moment since childhood.
I feel unbound, truly alive, liberated.
My soul yearns for connection to the earth, a longing I didn’t know was buried. Fear stopped me from being free. Past traumas and deep experiences shaped my behavior.
But here, on this sun-kissed shore, with sand between my toes and the ocean's song in my ears, my body, my soul, my inner child are all deeply rested and renewed through this newfound freedom.
The magic of having space and pauses allowed me to flow with my own rhythm, listening to my inner yearnings. Choosing NOT to attend yoga or Satsang.
Instead, waking up to the sounds of the gong and crashing waves from my bed and heading to the beach instead of the temple.
Watching the sunrise peak over the horizon.
Arriving at the Grandmothers.
Connections and serendipitous moments abound.
Receiving a young boy's gift of ocean treasures.
Meeting new friends who feel like old ones.
Drinking contraband caffeine with other rebels.
And a Thai massage from a fellow yogi on the wet grass.
Discovering a small female hippo buried in the sand, she was planted, not buried.
Encountering a new Krishna, as I grieve my Krishna.
Being seen and singing a duet with the stars.
Standing in the ocean, harmonizing my voice with beautiful, strong women of each stage of life.
As I unpack from this trip, my soul still floats— lifted by the life experiences dotted with lessons and ancient wisdom. I am reminded of the rituals of women's circles, of the calling of the winds from North, South, East, and West, and celebrating the four seasons.
One fellow traveler stands out vividly in my memory: Gigi, a captivating woman in her late 70s gracefully embracing her crone phase of life. She exudes a radiant charm. Petite with a beautiful gray braid elegantly pulled to the side of her face and neatly tied with a hair tie, her romantic feminine clothing dances in the breeze as she walks with her cane down the beach. Her eyes twinkle with laughter.
Gigi's stories transport listeners to the heart of her experiences—be it her captivating tales of ten-month African safaris or her life living across the United States in stunning places. Yet, she also candidly shares stories of loss and trauma, offering a glimpse into the depths of her vulnerability and the power of her unfiltered honesty. In Gigi's presence, one cannot help but be mesmerized by the tapestry of her life, woven with resilience, wisdom, and an unwavering spirit.
I tell her she is my spirit animal.
Despite undergoing back surgery just a few months ago, Gigi remained undeterred. Her resilience was evident as she fearlessly embraced the waves while body surfing in the turquoise water and gracefully snorkeling alongside the turtles, using her own gear brought from home. Despite the challenge of a mile-long walk down the beach, supported by her cane, Ellie eagerly made her way to Starbucks to order a venti latte. With each sip of the piping hot coffee, she savored it, expressing gratitude that lingered for hours afterward, reminding me of the magic found in life's simplest pleasures.
She is such a joy, and an inspiration to me.
As I transition from my role as a mother to becoming an empty nester, I find myself stepping into what others call the 'Wild & Wise' phase. Closer to 60 than 50, I notice changes in my body—bulges, scars, wrinkles—and gazing into the mirror serves as a stark reminder of time passing by.
Where did the time go? Are my best years behind me?
Observing Gigi over these past few days, I've come to a realization: no, my best years are not behind me. There is an abundance of experiences yet to be had, regardless of age. There is so much to look forward to.
At ANY age.
I've learned that the Crone stage can be just as beautiful and fulfilling as any other. The scars carry my story, and it's not over.
Gigi offered me advice that I'm taking to heart. She told me she regretted not fully leaning into her Empty Nest phase, always thinking she had more time. Then the grandkids came, and she felt 'Tethered and Torn'—tethered because she loved her grandkids and wanted to support her children, yet torn because she longed to travel and be free.
Reflecting on the phases I've passed through—the maiden and the mother phase—I realize how quickly life moves. As a young and free maiden, I often worried about the future, striving for more without appreciating the present. My mother phase was even faster-paced, filled with excitement and challenges, from city living to suburban life, from babies to school and activities, and navigating through illness and caregiving, compounded by the pandemic. I was healthy and strong, my mind was sharp, I was surrounded by long-life friends, yet didn’t realize the significance of how rare and special that was at the time in my life. I took it for granted.
I ask myself, what am I taking for granted now?
Gigi's words have struck a chord within me. Embracing this new phase of being 'Wise & Wild' feels like a profound shift. I'm saying yes to scary things, recognizing that a bit of wildness has always been within me. A sign in my bedroom reads, 'You keep me safe. I'll keep you wild.' In my youth, my wildness sometimes veered into recklessness, leading to feelings of shame and guilt. But now, I'm learning to embrace my wildness with confidence and self-assurance.
Adding 'Wise' to the 'Wild' is a game changer."
As a wise woman, I've come to know my limits and preferences. I discern what is reckless and understand how my actions and energy affect others. I can confidently stand alone or within a group, authentically myself. I've learned when to say no and when to wholeheartedly say yes. Most importantly, I've learned to love myself and release any lingering shame.
I am ready to fully embody being Wise & Wild.
And perhaps, in doing so, I'll experience the honor of feeling "Tethered and Torn" one day.
Moreover, I am unafraid of the Crone phase. Witnessing many strong, beautiful crones leading the way, and carving out paths for those of us to follow. I hope to be body surfing well into my late 70s and beyond.
Gigi shared another nugget of wisdom with me: when life changes, it often comes from one of four places—
a call from beyond,
a call from within,
a push from behind,
or a wind from beneath your wings.
Wherever you find yourself in life's seasons, take a moment to pause. Look into the gaps, finding gratitude, and embracing the gritty, messy bits of each phase.
May the wind beneath your wings guide you through each phase of your life.
Collected Sea Glass, by Vicki Donaldson Einsel