I just finished reading Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. To say "wow" would be an understatement.
The cover of the book says it was an Oprah book club pick, but I didn't know that when I ordered the book. It was the August pick of a fellow book club member, and so far, in my fifth month of the first book club I've ever been a part of, I have loved every book.
This was no different. From the first page I was intrigued. Who, in their right mind, would decide to walk over a thousand miles, up and down mountains, carrying everything they needed to survive on their back, no matter what their life circumstances? But by the third chapter I was wondering if I could do what she did. By the end, I felt like I needed to.
The writing was good enough to draw me in and keep me turning pages, while painting a picture so vivid I could feel the pain of every step in too-small boots, and the thrill of fear in each unexpected encounter.
The first striking and profound moment for me in the book was a quote by someone she met along the road. While comparing their experiences in what prompted her to attempt this feat, he stated, "I'm a free spirit who never had the balls to be free." (pg. 78) That statement struck me so hard it felt like a slap. I had to stop and read it again, and then again. And then I had to email the quote to myself.
Because that is me. And I realized why the story resonated so strongly with me. I have always thought I was strong, brave, determined to do whatever I needed to do to succeed, but then blaming my lack of success on circumstances beyond my control. But the truth is, I'm afraid. A free spirit with no guts.
She speaks about an encounter with a reader of some sort. Not a palm reader, or a reader of tarot cards, but something along those lines. Even while she scoffs in disbelief, she describes how the woman told her many things that struck a chord, and in that detailing was a bit about her father. How her father was broken in some way and passed that brokenness on to her, even though or especially since she had not seen her father since she was a very young child.
The woman tells her how a father's job is to teach his children how to be warriors. To give them the courage to go into battle when circumstances require it. And by failing in his duty, she would be put to the test, she would be required to be a warrior, she would need to conquer, and in the crucial moment, she would hesitate. She may fail, she may not, but the moment would be lost in that hesitation.
In this too, I feel the sorrow. I feel that lack of courage, that hesitation, in every moment of every day. Is it because I have never had a father? Possibly. But always it comes back to this one point: fear.
And finally, she speaks about her divorce. I love how she loved her husband, even as she instigated the divorce, even as her actions made the divorce inevitable. How she realized that there was something within herself that needed repair, and that the repair could only be achieved in solitude. And finally, she spoke about a moment when she was filling out the divorce papers when she was asked what her name was going to be and she picked a word from the dictionary that best matched who she was, and where she was in her life. How she couldn't keep her married name, but couldn't go back to the name she had in high school. Such freedom! Such bravery! Such creativity!
