I’ve always had a connection to wolves. I’ve only ever seen them in the wild once, when I was up at Yellowstone Park when my family visited Montana, all other times have been in wolf sanctuaries, but there’s something about the wolf that has always spoken to me. If I had to name an animal that would be my spirit guide, the wolf would be it, without a doubt.
I think it has to do with the imagery of the wolf’s situation that I’ve been partial to for my entire life. The wolf is most commonly known for it’s a pack mentality, and the rankings that go with it. It’s pack is it’s family, and family is everything to me. They don’t necessarily have to even be blood-related, wolf packs are their own family with their own hierarchy. And that’s something for which I’ve always longed and strived. That’s not to say that I’m not very close with my family. It’s quite the opposite, actually. I am very close with my relatives. But in terms of my own social pack, I’ve always been a bit of a cloud. That is, I tend to float around from group to group, both in the micro and macro view of my life. I’ve always considered a very positive trait. It allows me to get along with any group of people I meet. I often “break in” to even the tightest-knit group and become part of the fold quite easily. (I should think of undercover work as a career…maybe not.) But whether or not I become as close as the rest of the group is something about which I often wonder.
I have many friends in many groups that I visit and with whom I party and hang out and just have a good time. But I’ve always wanted that handful, that posse, that entourage who always do everything together. I’ve experienced periods of such groups throughout the years, but I’m often the one who drifts away into busy-ness, or gets pulled into the gravity of other groups that I can’t help but continually move through social circles. The longest stretch was probably through high school. Even in university, I didn’t really feel like I was part of that kind of pack until the last year and a bit remained. I just like too many people too much to enjoy that type of intense camaraderie.
And that brings me back to the wolf, specifically the lone one. I never feel alone, but I do enjoy solitude. I do feel left out at times, but I never assume negatively about those situations. I chalk it up to slips of the mind, benign forgetfulness, or the constant idea in my friends’ mind that I’m always busy and can never make it out to events because of all the work and shows I do. It’s a true idea and thought which I do project myself, so it’s understandable to me. (This wasn’t always the case. I definitely have angry verses in one of my lyric books about being forgotten, but it was that venting that made me realize how stupid and pointless it was to assume such malice from such positive people.) It’s why I can relate to the lone wolf as much as I do to the pack. There’s power in being comfortable in isolation. It’s essentially the physical representation of being comfortable with you. It’s easy to let lonely thoughts wander and grow and take over your imagination if you’re insecure about who you are, so to be comfortable alone with your own thoughts is, I think, a real sign of self-confidence through reflection. It’s an assuredness that, although you may be by yourself, you’re never really lonely. You’re the alpha of your psyche.
Be the lone wolf. Be the pack. And embrace whenever you’re either of them.