Living in the wild

As a child, I wanted to be an American Indian child, because of Karl May and his novels on Winnetou, a series of books written about the Wild West that were insanely popular when I grew up. Those books, although written by an author who had never left Germany and literally created all the stories out of imagination, created a deeply compassionate and interesting portrait about American Indian Values. Peoples in the German speaking world actually knew about the genocide that happened in America, long before the United States admitted to it.

Now we are moving to the Wild West. Literally. Both Joshua and I are drawn to this life-style that involves living in wild, spacious territory, with horses and dogs. I can’t help but thinking that I trained for this life very early on. I spent most of my childhood, after recovering finally from my illness that plagued me the first 7 years of my life, outside, in trees, stalking, observing, hunting, playing. I was obsessed with knifes, wanted a tomahawk for my 9th birthday and drove my mother crazy with elaborate but rickety chair/table constructions that I used as a pretend horse.

I can’t help but thinking that this was all in preparation for the life I’m yet to lead. For the first time I’m having dreams that are outside of yoga – or perhaps they are the culmination of my practices so far. I’m dreaming about a life that is simpler, more sane, more in rhythm with nature. That involves horses and dogs. But mostly a life that is based on sanity.