The Importance of Staying Wild...

…and What That Has To Do With Singing.

It began innocently enough– I bought a cool t-shirt with “stay wild” printed on the front and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what wildness means, and what staying wild means to me. And what it might mean to you, and to the singers that I work with.  

I believe authentic artistic expression lives in the realm of the wild. And I absolutely love what Dr. Estes says in the quote above (I believe it’s from Women Who Run With the Wolves), that our wounds and our stories and our loves, our passions, are doorways into the realm of the untamed, portals to take us deeper into our creativity. I mean, think about it– no one else has your wounds. No one else has your same loves or stories or desires. And you are here to express your unique version of those things. My friend Camilla, who is a wonderful painter, says wildness for her is “...childhood and the drumming sound of cicadas and crickets, being barefoot…digging in the mud, rifling through the backyard as if it were acres of wilderness…An innocent state of pure imagination, inner peace, and safety without effort.” An innocent state of pure imagination— I love that.

I know this for sure: if I’m thinking about what other people (friends, family, society) are going to think about what I write or sing or even how I present myself, I will not write or sing or present myself from a free place. So wildness for me means a quality of freedom, a lack of inhibition, an honesty of expression that is entirely unique. It feels like a connection to a part of me that is untouched by anyone else’s opinions. I think this is what people mean when they talk about the subconscious from the perspective of creativity– it’s where the wild lives.

What does it mean to you to “stay wild”? Do you feel connected to the wilder parts of yourself?  Do you have regular practices that help you access those parts? 

I think we need regular practices. I think we need to find ways to regularly turn off the noise of other voices so that we can hear our own wild one. This is an obvious example, but I know that when I give myself extended time away from screens and out in nature, I can feel into that other part of myself. When I can’t step away from the busyness of life and get lost in the woods or play in the sand, then sitting in meditation, even for a few minutes, helps me tune in to other realms, freer places. A simple daily journaling practice, especially if it is an unedited, stream of consciousness expression like the morning pages practice from The Artist’s Way, can work wonders. And I’ve learned that physical movement like yoga, running, swimming, or even walking, is another way for me to free my mind and set it loose for a little while. Or you can try a movement and journaling combo for an extra dose of freedom: recently I did an anger-releasing exercise from Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act, that suggests beating on a pillow for five minutes (set a timer) and then journaling for five pages immediately afterward. I only filled two pages of writing (I was tired!) but it was super cathartic, and I definitely felt freer and lighter afterward.

However we get there, I believe firmly that wildness is what we’re seeking to access when we sing, and when we create. If we’re missing that element, if we are too much in our “thinking brains”, we end up sounding contained or controlled or careful, or all three! If that’s you, then maybe it’s time to stop everything, play in the mud, and then go back to the practice room.

Next time we’ll talk about the polar opposite of wildness– training– and how we can get these two opposites to play nice together, because that’s where the real magic happens.