I run to the wild as I cross the grounds of distractions and prophesies of this world. I embrace all the beauty I see and I walk through my conditioning, erasing myself in bits and pieces.
I always loved erasers as a child, the nice round ones, the ones with animal faces, the ones which smelled nice and the ones which attached themselves at the end of the pencil. How wonderful to write something and then being able to erase it to write something new. How wonderful to be running in the wild and allowing the wild to write something new on you.
Is the run and the runner the same as the wild and wilderness? Is there a commonness in the act of erasing and the act of writing? Is it me who is erasing or is it me who is the writer or are we both the part of the wild? As the run continues, I feel the friendliness of the surrounding and the joyful presence guiding me. The runner starts to merge more with the running. The wild embraces him and he feels at home. The energy starts overflowing and the beauty finds a new expression. The conditioning fades away. It’s the point where I know I am the eraser, the erased, the writer and the write up.
As I flow at this point of togetherness I see myself born again…wild and beautiful.