As often happens, it’s hard to figure where to start tonight, as I have several things to write about -- my wolf nature being one of them, so I’ll start there.
The more I’ve been delving into my novel again, the more my wolf side has been coming to the forefront of my psyche.
Last Wednesday I had the strongest mental shift into my wolf mindset that I’ve had in a very long time. It was almost overwhelmingly powerful, and when it occurred, I had trouble thinking straight for a long time.
It took place while I was with my kids at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. They have two wolf exhibits there, both very realistically done. One has a mated pair of arctic wolves looking at a nearby herd of musk oxen, who are backed into a defensive position. The other has a pack of about a half dozen wolves all together looking into the distance at a herd of caribou. I kneeled next to both dioramas and let my mind flow into them, seeing the wolves and the prey and feeling as if I was there. The one with the pack affected me the strongest. I felt as if I was truly there, like I had left my human existence and become the wolf that I am at heart.
My kids were very understanding, as both of them sometimes experience similar things.
The next night, I had a dream in which I was human, but I was with a pack of thin, half-starved wolves who looked like cartoon representations. At one point I saw a hawk flying overhead and I called to it, and it came down and almost lighted on my outstretched arm, making me sure that it knew me.
A few days ago, I spent several hours before bed talking with my novel’s editor about how the last two chapters should potentially play out. We met online years ago back when the novel was just a short story, and he offered to critique it. He’s also a wolf therianthrope, and over time we fell in love and planned to get married. That never happened for a variety of reasons. For one, I’m more than 20 years older than he is (which would make me a cougar. Rowl! *grins*). Also, he’s devoutly Christian, and I’m very Pagan (although we both do shamanic work – and yes, he’s integrated Christianity and working with spirit guides, and I greatly admire him for that). Both of those could have been handled with love, however. The problem that killed the marriage plans in the end was the fact he needs to stay in Kentucky managing his parents’ business, and I won’t move away from the Denver area because of my children. He and I still love each other very dearly, however, both as humans and as wolves.
He’s my wolf mate, by the way. And I mean that in the truest sense. We’ve shared dreams in which we’re both wolves, and we discussed them the next day, having shared the same experiences. And we’ve repeatedly shared shamanic trances during the years, during which we’ve been together as wolves, and we’ve not only mated but raised several litters of cubs. The experience of giving birth to my first litter was detailed in one of the chapters of my novel, but I have the protagonist experiencing it. We had two litters during the springs since then as well. We’ve explored together as a pack, hunted together, played together, slept together and killed together. The memories of that life goes beyond human words.
Human.
*sighs*
That’s what I’ve largely been in my mind the last two years. In early 2008, I returned to SecondLife after a long absence. I soon became hooked, and it took over my mind, to the detriment of both my wolf nature and my novel writing.
But now my novel is coming alive again. And so is my wolf mindset.
I kept getting hit by hard mental shifts into lupine thought patterns during the morning after my long talk with my editor/mate. My Master noticed after awhile and asked if something was wrong, and I told him what I was experiencing, and he patted me on the head and said, “Nice doggy.”
Master understands having spirit guides. He has several, and he takes them very seriously. He also have very distinct past-life memories.
But I don’t think he really understands the idea of species dysphoria. Of the idea that my spirit isn’t fully human. And so I think he doesn’t quite know how to treat me when I bring the matter up.
I’ve been finding that confusing situations are becoming more and more troublesome for me. Places with too many lights and noises. Situations that require my human mind to handle a lot of input. Saturday night was extremely busy at the Sanctuary BDSM club, and I was a crying wreck by the time we left. This morning, Master sat me down to explain a lot of things related to computers and the daily schedule and using a note-saving device on my computer and arranging the monthly calendar and deciding the week’s menu and … I overloaded. By the end of the conversation, I could barely think straight, and I wound up bawling in his arms. Master told me to drink some tea and take some time off. He was very understanding. But then I messed up something while preparing tonight’s meal (it needed two red peppers and I had only gotten one), and I started crying because I was afraid that Master wouldn’t trust my abilities, and he had told me this morning how valuable it was that he could rely on me to get things done right. Master saw me and comforted me again, and eventually things settled down, but all in all today I wasn’t exactly the most emotionally stable person around.
The thing is, when it was all over but I was still tense, I went to my room to rest, and I realized exactly what I wanted.
To run. Fast and free. Through fields and forests.
As a wolf.
*sighs*
I have no doubt my feeling of being a wolf today was heightened by the fact that I spent hours last night reading books related to the “Werewolf: the Apocalypse” roleplaying game. The books are often written as if they’re real, and they bring out a very strong emotional response in me. In particular, I identify with a werewolf tribe known as the Red Talons, who are all wolf-born werewolves who despise the fact that humans have taken over the world. I sought out roleplaying groups to play the game several years ago. Not everybody feels comfortable with somebody playing a Red Talon and taking it seriously, like I did.
“Werewolf: the Apocalypse,” by the way, was a roleplaying game about various tribes of werewolves who were fighting against the coming destruction of the world by an insane deity bent on corrupting life through pollution and evil. It had quite a bit of shamanism alongside very strong environmental issues, and I loved it.
The thing is, I truly identify with the Red Talons. I see humanity as a disease. I loathe my human body.
The Red Talons supplement had me laughing in places and crying in others. The place where I cried was the description of a character who experienced her first change into a werewolf after a tragic event in her life. I’m crying now as I write this. Entitled “Autumn Wolf,” here’s the description: “Born in a splendid forest, you remember hunting rabbits in the woods with your brothers and sisters as a pup. You remember watching leaves fall during your first autumn and the smell of the forest change as the air grew c older. You remember the hunger as snow covered the land and howling mournfully because you thought you’d never eat again, and then the joy as spring returned and the prey emerged to feed you. But most of all, you remember the machines. They came as the leaves fell during your second autumn. You never actually saw them move, but you wandered from a copse of trees and saw what was left of the forest. It was bare as a meadow – worse, because meadows house mice and rabbits to eat. This housed nothing, just the burned stumps of trees and the bodies of any creature left in the way … and fallen leaves. And looking in horror over the shattered remains of your home, you howled in anguish. As the howl wound down, you found yourself screaming with a human throat.”
I can understand the idea of that wolf very, very deeply.
The place where I laughed might be disturbing to some people. It was the description of a particular character with a taste for human flesh, and what it was like for them to experience their first change from a wolf into a werewolf. It was only a brief laugh, I have to say, and it didn’t affect me nearly as deeply as the description of the other wolf, but it’s possibly worth mentioning: “Born on the outskirts of a city, you and your meager pack foraged for food in human garbage. You ate what and when you could, avoided the humans, and lived your life. It wasn’t much, but it was all you knew, even if something inside you yearned for more. And then one night, a pack of humans came for your pack with thunder and fire, and slew all of them except you. You ran, but then a bullet sheared one of your paws away. As the humans approached, you wished that you could have eaten that day. Another crack of thunder and bite of pain, and all thoughts of food were gone. You erupted into a whirlwind of blood and fury, and tore the humans to pieces. When your fury was spent, you remembered how hungry you were. You don’t hate humans in the same way as many Talons do. You understand that they need to be destroyed, but would prefer to corral them into herds somehow so they don’t go to waste. After all , they’ve made such a mess of the land, they should have a hand in cleaning it up, even if it’s just by donating their screams.”
Yeah. I’m a bit twisted in ways. Such is life, and me, and being a wolf in a human body.
On a final note, there was a little bit of silliness … and not so silliness … at dinner tonight.
Master was talking about cheese, and I mentioned head cheese (which is made from the residue of the boiled remains of a pig’s head), and Master said it disgusted him and he’d make me eat some if I brought it up again, and I told him I’d probably enjoy it because I’ve eaten three mice before, heads and all and … Master stopped, cocked his head and wanted to know what I was talking about.
About five years ago, when I was new to the realization that my therianthropy was real, and I was letting my wolf nature come out with full force, I’d often find myself craving to eat rodents and other small animals I’d encounter on woodland hikes. Of course I couldn’t catch them, and even if I could, I knew my human body wouldn’t be able to handle their diseases and such. So I meditated about it, and I felt Coyote encourage me to try a different approach – using “feeder” mice from a pet shop (mice bred to be used as live food for boa constrictors and other large snakes). And I did it three times. I had my own office, and I would get a mouse, let it loose in my office, then, about lunchtime I would stalk the mouse as it scurried around the room. Then, with a pounce, I would clamp my jaws around its back and neck, squeeze tight and break its body, shake it in my teeth until it was dead, and then swallow it whole. It was an incredible experience that felt so wonderfully natural and normal. I stopped only because I eventually found out that there’s a high rate of salmonella in feeder mice.
Master thought that was rather strange, of course, but the conversation moved to other things.
After dinner, however, while I was eating some leftovers in the kitchen, M’Lady asked me why I often take my food there alone instead of sitting next to her to eat, and after thinking about it I told her that I think it's my canine instincts to take my kill and eat it away from the rest of the pack. M'Lady (who knows that I believe I have a spiritual connection to wolves) responded that maybe I could take it under the dining room table for that, and I smiled and said I didn't because I was afraid I'd get the food on the rug, and Master said he could put a tarp down for that, and I asked very happily if that means he might start feeding me from a bowl on the floor, and he said he hadn't given it a lot of thought but now that he realizes how seriously I'd enjoy that, he'll consider it.
Later I asked him again about it, and he again said he’d never thought about the idea of puppy play, although he knew I was seriously into the idea of ponyplay. I’m thinking he wouldn’t be too keen to the idea because, to be honest, it doesn’t exactly fit into the idea of a Victorian household. Oh well. We’ll see.
Well, tonight’s post turned out to be primarily about one topic – my wolf nature. To be honest, I could have talked about that for a long, long time. It’s who I am, and who I have been since childhood. And who I’ll be the rest of my life.
La kajira.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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