*Warning: Naughty language ahead! 

 

“Reaching higher, going farther away from the settled, the routine life, you again become wild, you again become part of the animal world. You again live like a tiger or a lion, or like a river. You again soar like a bird into the skies, farther and farther away. And each moment, the security, the bank balance, the wife, the husband, the family, the society, the church, the respectability—all are fading away and away, distant and distant. You become alone.” ~ Osho, from Courage, The Joy of Living Dangerously

 

Some men are born feral.

Feral men have always walked the solitary path, off to the side of the norm, rejecting other people’s projections of who they should be.

Wild men live to breathe air that belongs to no-one else. And if that will mean a life of solitude, then so be it.

A wild man will not compromise.

A wild man is determined. His purpose on earth is like that of the forest beast, to roam, to seek shelter away from the confines of society, to adventure with a life fully lived as the end result.

He will not be boxed into another’s beliefs. He will not succumb to the usual ravages of the human soul. He has too many mountains to conquer and too many rivers to swim to live a life of quiet desperation, chasing a traditional dream.

Such a man hones his body with physical activity, his strength is his livelihood. Wild men like to turn trees into furniture, rocks into shelters and prefer to do so with their bare hands. They can feel the sacred energy of the material in their hands and that energy feeds their imagination and their skill.

Wild men think deep, love unconditionally and speak only when they feel the need to. Otherwise, they protect their feral nature under brooding eyes and sensitive smiles.

Loving a wild man is like loving the moving clouds in the sky. There will never be a moment when you’ll feel that he’s completely in your grasp.

And you don’t want that moment to come, because then he will no longer be wild, and you’ll fall out of love with him immediately.

Feral men will ruin you with their messy hair and incomparable beards, their hands rough, their backs wide, their legs capable of holding you astride until you beg release.

When a wild man makes love to you, it is to bring you to his side of things; to break your resolve to leave him and his unconventional lifestyle.

When he fucks you it is to bring you to an orgasm so deep that you will never forget his imprint on your soul. And he will do this until he’s learned your body’s every secret; your most vulnerable places his domain.

A wild man learns from his mistakes. He is not opposed to making them as long as they result in something he can tear apart and re-build into a victory later on.

A wild man reads books that lead him further astray. Stories and poems that leave him in tears. Tears you will never see, unless you learn where his Achilles’ heel lies; and for that you’d have to be willing to walk through fire with him when he’s at his best and his worst.

A wild man does not dream of giving you a ring. He dreams of nights spent with you tucked safely in his arms, of walks through fields where the grass is so tall that he fears losing you and holds tight to your hand. He dreams of never having to leave his hideaway from the world, instead, he wants an endless stream of nights to lie naked under the stars with you, and kiss you deeply in places you have never given to anyone else.

A wild man wants nothing from the world yet gives of himself to others, gruff when you meet him and soft when you say goodbye. But you’ll never want to say goodbye because life without him would mean losing that connection to the Universe that is always evolving into something more profound, something like floating on the ocean with no land in sight for years. Just you and water and fear and hope and a decision to live like today is all you’ve got. Like death has no meaning.

He will give you this. This impossible way of being that strangles you and liberates you all at once.

When you love a wild man you must listen to that little voice that tells you the road you are on is not going where you planned.

When you love a wild man you must leave behind dreams of twisting him around your little finger or handing him ultimatums that he will quickly decline. He needs a woman who knows herself and is stronger than she looks. He may like your tiny hands and whimsical smile but when he roars with frustration he wants those hands to hold all of him and not tremble.

You must find solace in his unspoken words.

You must know your own strength and walk in it.

You must love your own journey as he loves his.

You must be tender when he least expects it and tough when he thinks he’s finally managed to bring you to tears. Your tears, if honest, will always bring him to spend a day lost in introspection. When false, it will draw his distrust, and he does not trust easily.

You must be real—authentic. He will respect that because it will remind him of the natural world, where everything is as it must be. Nature keeps the wild man ever vigilant, ever respectful of her unpredictable mystery.

A wild man wants to respect you above all. He wants your mystery to envelop him like a shroud from which there is no escape, he wants to be lost in you as he is lost in his own dreams; he wants to know that in you, there is safety from being asked to change his course.

And that is his weakness—loving you so much that he fears you will one day point to your path and with hooks so tender that he does not know they’re there, you will pull him to a place where he will surely die.

Because your love undoes him. Because your lips confuse him. Because your breasts make him question things he thought were written in stone.

To love a wild man you have to let him go. Just dream a day where he’s not there and make your peace with that. After your tears, after your anger, you will see that with him or without him you are still whole.

And if from your wholly empowered place, you see his weaknesses and his strengths for what they are: symptoms of a man who must live with the wind in his hair, and the horizon at his disposal, then you will see that the wild man is just like you.

A human being who trusts in their destiny, and seeks it at all costs.

Then, you may join him on his quest. Relax into his embrace. Find joy in his feral nature. Walk beside him as he leaves what’s expected behind and carves his own path. Lie down with him in the tall grass and feel his weight upon you. Give in to his need to love you wildly.

To love a wild man you must also follow the road less traveled. The road to a life less ordinary. Whether that road always winds with his must remain a question.

There is no “knowing” when you love a wild man. There is only what could be: questions.

To love a wild man you must trust that what will be will be.

You must crave to become alone in the wilderness of life.

 

Relephant Read:

How to Love a Wild Woman.

 

Author: Monika Carless

Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: Author’s Own