Man had the place to himself. Then, something good happened: Woman. True, things went south. But don’t blame Woman. Man became wild, and wilder, since the Garden Fiasco. There is redemption in our wildness.
Elijah, David, Andy in Shawshank Redemption, were all wildmen. William Wallace, Indiana Jones, the Smothers Brothers: they were all wild. Our wildness is redemptive.
We need to be wild, or wilder. We are wild, or wilder, and honorable, wise, dependable. We are warrior poets. We bring order out of chaos. We fight when we need to fight. We fight fair with our wives and our children so that they know that we will fight for them, because we love them. Wildermen have stories to tell. We make it safe for our wives to tell us their story; we make it safe for our childen to live out their stories.
Wildness flows with wisdom, pain, joy, longings … through guys who get up in the morning and go to work, and work what needs to be worked; and pay bills. Wildermen are called out to be good men . . . who come home at night after work, and hug their wives, and bring some love and smiles to the kiddos.
A number of years ago, I was up on Rolling Creek Trail with some wildermen. There really is a Rolling Creek Trail, and we really were there … sitting atop gigantic boulders with mountains surrounding us. One of the wildermen brought a can of pears. They tasted great, up there on those boulders, under the sun.
True wildermen are not tame, and are not sissies. And we do our best to not get stupid.
When the storms come, and the flaming arrows fly, the confusion brews, wildermen will lean into it all, pressing into God, and buck up. But that discussion … storms flaming arrows, confusion … will happen next time. See you then.
Wilder Man On Rolling Creek