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Writing Blog 2

I Will Always Be A Wild Thang

Roderick Campbell

by Janne Robinson

I will always be a wild thang.

You can find me at the nude beaches, stark ass in the sun.

You can find me doing yoga, sans mat—covered in sea, falling out of head stand, laughing—eyelashes sandy, hair a mess, smile soaring.

You can find me covered in ink, shouting yes to the moon as the fire groans and the words come.

You can find me ripping down unpaved roads, following coordinates for a hidden lagoon in the jungle drawn on the back of a grocery receipt.

You can find me driving 4000 kms across the outback of Australia, sleeping under naked stars beside termite dunes in the red hot night.

You can find me in the back of a pick up in Peru, sitting on rice sacks with a stranger falling asleep in my lap while we climb up, up into the next moment of our lives.

You can find me sticking thermometers up the butts of untamed dogs in the recovery area of a rabies campaign in Guatemala, covered in ticks and pee and anal secretion, devastated and happy and full.

You will find me holding up the entire line at the grocery store to ask the clerk how her day is really, really going.

You will find me offering the stranger in 32 E a head massage for her headache and a long day—for human connection and touch is as much of a necessity as air and water.

You will find me drinking Ardbeg Uigeadail neat and making naked snow angels on New Year’s Eve—to celebrate a year being alone with my worthy and deserving heart.

You will find me crying for it all—for my heart will not close, no matter how hard I try, no matter what anyone say, she is always torn wide open.

You will find me singing, butt ass naked, creating space for my flowers and getting dirty in my garden while Ray Lamontagne plays.

You will find me banging pots and pans on my deck at seven am to set boundaries with black bears who overstep their welcome.

You will hear me say loudly, not quietly, that I am so free, I am a little afraid of being loved.

You will find me curled on rocks, savoring the last bites of sunshine with my non-to-go pottery mug clasped in my hands.

You will find me flustered, stubbornly buying paints and swearing I am Picasso for 48 hours, shouting to the world, “We have unlimited untapped artists within us—today, I choose paint!”

You will find me where there is coffee—good, black coffee and people who also like coffee.

You will find me wherever my heart longs to be in that moment.

You will find me alone, or with company I truly relish—not just who is around, there. Life is too short for those who bore us.

You will find me saying no, for boundaries are how I survive.

You will find me hitchhiking and trusting humans first—because life is easier this way.

You will find me in the sun, for I might need her even more than I need coffee.

You will find me curled in a ball beneath the waterfall—soaking in the negative ions and letting it all go.

You will find me skinny dipping with glee in the moonlight, watching a mother turtle fight and push and give birth to 30 eggs under the full moon.

You will find me covered in soot and ash, with wine by the fire. I’ll be drinking in the smoke—for it’s my favorite perfume.

You will find me butchering Spanish, playing charades and drawing in the dirt to communicate—for trying is worth looking like a fool.

You will find me walking tall, like an old cypress tree. I am proud and happy with what I am creating on this planet.

You will find me in that old brown rusty rocking chair, drinking black tea with too much sugar listening to Chopin.

You will find me buying local, fresh cut wildflowers to fill my cabin—for a woman should never have to wait to fall in love for flowers.

You will find me having the hard conversations, for I have no desire to keep resent in my pocket.

You will find me with a soft heart every time I witness love in strangers—for I love love.

You will find me stone-faced and serious, calling you on your shit after you let out a rape joke while others stand laughing.

You will find me falling in love often, because there are so many beautiful humans and I want to know all of them.

You will find me asking for what I want in bed, for I cannot be shy at the expense of my pleasure.

You will find me carrying six thick books in my backpack, for the greats are my bibles, my loves.

You will find me working from a hammock, for going slow is sometimes going faster.

You will find me cutting kindling with my teeth in the woods, in the damp, heavy rain.

You will find me in towns with bad roads, for bad roads bring good people.