Thursday, May 26, 2011
I read this quote today. It's from a poem. I do not read a lot of poetry. I spent many hours with the Norton Anthology of Poetry during my first year English Literature studies at the University of Sydney. I didn't love it. I spent many hours with The Canterbury Tales during my year 12 English studies. I didn't love it either (though I confess the Wife of Bath sounded like good fun at a dinner party).
I do love this quote. Though I confess that, sitting here in my study, wrapped in my Slanket), I connect with the 'precious' aspect of the quote moreso than the 'wild' at the present time.
How many of us live 'wild' lives, I wonder? What constitutes a 'wild' life? I suspect that it doesn't involve suburbs, school runs and vacuum cleaning. Or does it? Does a life need to be 'big' to be 'wild', or is there wildness in living small?
Poetry is designed to make you think. So what do you think? What makes a life 'wild'?
[image: tiny porcelain house beads from lofficina/etsy]