welcome the wild

This is me. Not very wild looking am I. But it's not just my fault. I'm sure it's partly my environment that helped make me this way. There are certain restraints on preacher's kids. And well, such kids either comply or break free. Example: I never went to high school prom, or any other dances for that matter, much to the consternation of my football player boyfriend one year: "What! No prom??" I offered that he should take one of his friends who happened to be female, which he did. Magnanimous of me, no? To be perfectly truthful, I went to dances in the high school cafeteria a few times after football games, but I stood in the darkness at the back, away from the rotating disco ball above the dance floor and watched, smelling the weed on my friend Jeff's breath as we talked. Jeff didn't dance because, I don't know, maybe because he was high, too shy or too cool. We in my family weren't supposed to dance as it was too worldly. So, I've got Baptist feet. (The Methodists, in their church across the street from ours, danced right in their basement!) Happily, dancing commenced when my nieces and nephews started getting married. We Baptist-footed siblings have tried our best to move and not embarrass our children too badly at those weddings. I don't think we've succeeded at that, but we sure have a good time. (Sadly, this came after my parents had left the earth. I think they would have enjoyed watching us, and maybe dancing themselves too, in another life/world.)

I've been learning to put my arms around chaos for a while now (yay Beato! yay chaotic oscilations! yay Bishop!), to be more uninhibited, reckless. Since moving to the farm, I feel myself aligning more with the cycles of Nature. But outwardly, I don't seem to veer much from disciplined order and self-control. What's up with that? It's time to start some Druidic jumping over bonfires!