Wild-Adjacent
What happens when coyotes crash your second shift
Look, I swear this isn't turning into a weather blog, but hold on to your hats (or fling them off your sweaty heads if you live near me) because Atlanta just went from 20 degrees below "normal" (whatever the hell that means anymore) to 20 degrees above normal in a single week. I’m unfortunately used to the climate whiplash. But here's the thing that's keeping me up at night: it woke up the coyotes.
When Coyotes Come Calling
They stalk along this narrow strip of green space behind my house, a precious sliver of wild that somehow survived the constant urban creep, protected by a creek that runs through this part of the city. It always starts with just one exploratory call out and then these short, excited yelps start to meet it, spreading through the pack like fireworks. Soon their howls are bouncing off our houses and the office buildings on the other side of the creek until you can't tell if there are five coyotes or fifty, their voices everywhere and nowhere at once.
And then the neighborhood dogs join in, because of course they do. And I am willing to bet, every single one of us - knee-deep in our second shifts of dishes or spreadsheets or whatever manner of adulting we're attempting to close out a long day or prepare for the next one - just... stops. I find it impossible not to put down the responsible human things and listen. I imagine us all in our homes, collectively holding our breath at this reminder that wildness still exists just beyond our windows, refusing to be tamed by city ordinances and property lines.
Tricksters in the Night
Coyotes, those mangy hounds, are classic trickster figures in myth. They're the ones who show up to flip the table on your carefully arranged reality, who make you reconsider everything you thought you knew about order and reason. They're that friend who you worry might cause some trouble, but invite anyway because at least it won’t be boring. (You know the one.)
I love being wild-adjacent - close enough for the thrill but not so close I can't retreat to my cozy human den. These nighttime serenades both electrify and break my heart, reminding me how precious these scraps of wilderness are, how desperately we yearn to howl in the cover of night, to put out our wild call and have it returned to us so that we know we belong to something bigger than one lonely cry.
Invitation to Enchantment
This month, we're diving into enchantment - not the Disney princess kind, but the kind that helps you find power and delight in the darkness and uncertainty. (Though if you want to wear a tiara while reading this newsletter, no one will know.)
I have to share what Sharon Blackie - my favorite enchantment pro and teacher - says about this, because honestly, when I read her work I think "why even bother writing about this myself?" But then I reassure myself that if all I do here is create more Sharon Blackie followers, I've done my job. She says that enchantment…
…rummages and roots on the wild edges, but comes home…Ultimately, to live an enchanted life is to pick up the pieces of our bruised and battered psyches, and to offer them the nourishment they long for. It is to be challenged, to be awakened, to be gripped and shaken to the core by the extraordinary which lies at the heart of the ordinary. Above all, to live an enchanted life is to fall in love with the world all over again. This is an active choice, a leap of faith which is necessary not just for our own sakes, but for the sake of the wide, wild Earth in whose being and becoming we are so profoundly and beautifully entangled.
So, how’s your psyche doing these days? Could it use some nourishment? This month, I'm inviting you to get entangled with me along those wild edges. I mean, let's be real - we already are, whether we want to be or not. The only choice is whether we engage with this wild uncertainty as a source of strength and wisdom or keep pretending we can figure it all out. I suspect that the “land of being on top of things” is way more mythical than any enchanted forest.
Each week, we'll explore a new facet of enchantment hiding in plain sight in our lives. For now, just notice it. Pay attention. And come back here to share, because enchantment revels in our appreciation and will show up more for us when it knows it’s gotten our attention.
Some questions to ponder:
When was the last time something stopped you in your tracks with wonder?
When did enchantment shake you to your core, and how did that feel?
How might you stay open to enchantment today?
One last bit of Sharon Blackie’s wisdom from her manifesto on enchantment:
"To be fully in your body is to be fully alive. Get out of your head and into the world."
What can you do today to get out of your head and actually inhabit your wild, wise body? (No pressure, but the coyotes have some suggestions.)
With love and a hint of howling, Tricia
P.S. Check back here Friday at lunch. I'm trying something a little more participatory that I hope will be a fun, easy end-of-week ritual. No required howling, I promise. (But, if it's just me doing it, that will be... deeply awkward, so really come back here on Friday afternoon and participate please!)