The second in a series of posts I wrote while vacationing on the Outer Banks of North Carolina:

This week, I am unplugging from the internet, escaping from my role as Siena’s mom, and embracing stillness, the ocean, my dear friend’s 40^th birthday, and my husband. We are vacationing in Corolla, North Carolina, on the Outer Banks, where beaches run north and south to what looks like infinity. Today, Matt and I took a long, lingering walk along the beach and were delighted to discover what were rumored to exist here- wild horses.

Now, I grew up reading Misty of Chincoteague, and like every other adolescent girl, I fantasized about islands where wild horses roam and a girl can be swept away on the backs of these graceful beings. But here, in Pat Conroy country? Who knew? The minute I saw the beautiful beasts, clustered together in groups of four or five, the verses of the Rolling Stone song “Wild Horses” breezed through my consciousness, and I found myself humming.

What is it about wild horses that entrances me so? I guess it’s just that so much of our lives are cultivated, ruled by manners and authority figures and expectations. Yet, these horses, with long manes flying and great, grand gallops seem so free, at liberty to do whatever, whenever, wherever. And I’m green with envy.
What would happen if I was equally free to do as I please, without conforming to the world’s restraints? What would I do? When the thought occurred to me, I was walking on the beach with Matt, and the first thought that flashed through my mind was, “I want to do cartwheels, even if everyone on the beach will look at me and think I’m a total loon.” So what did I do? Cartwheels, of course- up and down the beach in the warm, shallow water. When I was a kid, my mother says I used to walk on my hands. I was always doing handstands and cartwheels and round-off back-handsprings from place to place. But then someone taught me “manners,” and I learned to walk on my feet, like every other responsible, grown-up human.

But maybe I lost something in the process. Maybe, in training the wildness out of me, they took away some of my spontaneity, my spirit, my joie de vivre- my mojo, really. Maybe cartwheels are my attempt to reclaim the wild horse I used to be.

I know, I know. I can’t go around doing cartwheels throughout life (“Why not? Why not?” little Lissa asks.) But perhaps I can release some of the “shoulds” in my life and indulge the joyful impulses that overtake me from time to time. Perhaps, if I stop “shoulding” on myself, I can get closer to the essence of who I really am and how I really want to live my life. I suspect that the real Lissa is just a wee bit wild, like these beautiful horses that roam the beach around here.
What about you? If you let go of all the “shoulds” in your life, what would you do? What kind of work would you choose? How would you raise your family? How would you behave around those you love? What crazy impulse would you indulge? Who would you be? Please, tell us your story!

With wild, crazy love,

Lissa