This piece is a longer version of a memory that I referred to in a recent Wild Inventures column in Martha Beck’s newsletter. It’s apropos of nothing, and in some ways, relevant to everything I think of when I talk about wild inventures. – Ro On a crowded street in rural India, an old man […]
Precious precious wild
Every night when I put Lila down in her crib, this is the last thing I say to her: “Strong back, soft front, wild heart.” I touch her back, her tummy and her chest as I say the words, and then I tell her I love her. It has become like an incantation, magical words […]
