Dear You,
I get frustrated with my dog. His instinct is so strong that it often takes over his more rational sensibilities.
Why has the neighbor’s cat become his archnemesis? Why do the children on the beach look like sheep to him and what makes him gather each one up with an invisible thread until they are all huddled together like a ball of yarn?
And why on earth does he look so satisfied with himself when the postman decides to throw packages over the fence rather than risk it?!
In his sleep, my dog is free to bark, round up, and snap at the heels of anything his fantasy conjures up but during the day his behavior is heavily curtailed, and he is not quite himself because of it.
Instinct. It’s certainly not tamable in any of us and yet we are disappointed when we act on it.
When there’s an instinctual need for more space, more curiosity, more creativity, more independence, and more vital fire in one’s life, we get disappointed with ourselves for needing what we need. This is because our needs don’t usually appease someone else’s expectations or fit in with our life’s circumstances.
However, instinct knows when it’s not being honored.
It cares very little for how patient we are, but a great deal for how often we howl. It cares very little for how long we sit at our desks, but very much for how long it’s been since our hair was dusted in cook ash.
I’ve met few so in touch with their instinct that kids were put to bed early and partners were put to tea-making, just so they could stargaze alone for an hour…
Ignored instinct makes us wonder why our morning stroll suddenly turns into a full-day hike, or why we gather stones in our pockets for projects we haven’t even planned yet. We become confused by our ‘uncivilized’ behavior, why we start to avoid the water cooler, why we forget our phones at home knowingly, why we linger out in the rain while everyone else runs for cover, or why we keep driving when we should turn off the junction for home…
Suppressed instinct makes us sit on our tails which becomes impossible when we get a whiff of gossip about a woman who went wild and sailed her kids across the Atlantic, or about that reckless man who left his job without a plan, or about those pensioners who swapped their house for a bus and traveled the songlines of a forgotten land.
It’s hard to contain an instinctual wag…
Instinct rises defiantly strong when one’s own creative needs become secondary to keeping house. Or when one’s love for the wild becomes seen as an inconvenience. Or when passion is doused in procrastination. Or when one counts their years before they dare do anything at all.
We are no different from the hound who is taught that his instincts are wrong, or that they pose a threat to what’s orderly.
And no matter how hard we keep our instincts tamed and quiet; they find us in our sleep - in order to keep us sane.
Some things we just don’t need to learn – in fact, most things we need to spend a lifetime unlearning.
At times, we too, feel like sheepdogs without sheep.
But the good thing is that we come home to ourselves through instinct. The same instinct that makes a seed into a sequoia, the caterpillar into a butterfly, the wounded human into a whole one. Gut instinct is truly stronger than all our tamings and can be used to guide us home to what is whole.
You are in constant communication with your instinctive nature despite it often going against the grain of what is expected. I’ve found that the more it grates against the culture, the smoother it will be for us.
Just as we have a psyche-instinct to walk our authentic path, we too have an imperative soul-instinct to know ourselves.
When we shift our sense of self from the ego to our essential being, we move away from thinking our way into what we need - and move through the world reliant on this deeply authentic instinct that has little social etiquette.
Rather than try and locate our instinct (psyche-instinct), it’s far wiser to try and locate who we think we are (soul-instinct) and allow authenticity to naturally swell upwards into our lives. This will ensure that we do not become uncouth or feral but move from a deeply self-willed and soulful place within.
I once met a woman in a shoe shop who had one of the greatest gifts of advice I can remember, especially from someone who wore pigtails in their grey hair…
You don’t need to find better-fitting shoes, dear, but a better road to walk barefoot on.
Perhaps I project my fears of losing contact with my instinctual self through my dog. I worry that suburbia is restricting his free spirit and that he’s becoming ‘unmanageable’. I ruminate on whether he needs more training or better discipline and I feel like he should behave more in tune with the social expectations of a rather unforgiving culture.
Or perhaps he, like me, just needs to live a life more in tune with his instinctual needs so he can be fully himself. Perhaps he is too longing to find out who he is among the rising light that reaches across the horizon rather than the rising hum of 4 am traffic.
If I can’t create this life for myself, I can certainly try for him - and perhaps I will benefit most from it. Because we seem to need the same things, although I am far less tolerant of fences…
Until then, we will have to find our flock in children, and our need to roam will have to be satiated by the local park. We will come to know ourselves amongst others who are our best sherpas back to what’s still unloved within us. We will find our way, both inwards and outwards until they eventually become one.
The greatest shift we can make in our lives is an identity shift. Reidentify with your self-less nature and return to intrinsic wholeness.
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