What Does It Mean To Be Wild?

a yoga poem + a spoken word poem + a conversation + permission to find your version of being wild today

Jun 04, 2024

My favorite recipe sites often have long stories before they post their recipes, but there is usually an option, though, to “jump to recipe.” So if you want to skip right to the two poems I am posting today, a poem for Wild Thing, in honor of the yoga pose, and Just a Little Bit Wild, from my spoken word collection, then jump away. However, if you have a minute, I encourage you to join in on the conversation about what wild means to you.

wild thing, guru, wisdom, meditation — Wild Thing by Elena Ray.

What does it mean to be wild?

To be “in a natural state, uncultivated, untamed, undomesticated, uncontrolled…”

Or to, "run wild and refuse to be tamed."1

We have seen how this can create such unimaginable beauty like in untouched mountain regions, deserts, or forests that have not known our footsteps, our axes, nor our saws.

And we have seen how this can also be an avalanche, an earthquake, a wind storm, locusts overwhelming a field.

When I sit with this, I realize how acculturated we are to certain systems and how our inner wildness or the wildness of nature can be both beautiful and terrifying.

Last summer, my dear husband and I took our children to Moab, Utah to try to “rewild” them just a little bit after many covid and post covid screen dependent years. Here they are hiking along a steep canyon path at sunset. I was full of wonder and a little bit of tiger mama fear as I watched them trace their hands along the edge of the rocks as they made their way along the narrow bluff.

(Disclaimer: I am not against screens. I am on Substack after all. What I am talking about is balance, which can be a constant challenge.)

Utah, wild, hike, Moab, arches national park, hiking — Our kids on a path that dropped down to a steep canyon below.

What does it mean to you to be wild? Where in your life would you like to see more wildness?

This is more of a contemplation and a conversation than an answer and I would love for you to chime in.

Two Poems

Here are my two poems about being wild. The first one, Just a Little Bit Wild, is from my untitled somatic-based spoken word series. The second one, Wild Thing, is a yoga poem from my collection, A Poem for Every Pose.

I usually reserve audio recordings for paid subscribers, but today, I am going to share the spoken word recording of, Just a Little Bit Wild, with everyone… because… it just has to be that way.

1×

0:00

-1:54

1990's, nostalgia, photo, old school, wild child, Paris — Photo of me from the mid 1990’s.

Just a Little Bit Wild

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

By Corie Feiner


They called me crazy.
But I was never crazy, 
just a little bit wild. 
They used to call me my 
father’s child. Said 

I sprung from his head 
and then leapt to the edge 
of rooftops and railings, 
and sat on the ledge.

So I danced all night and wore 
ripped jeans, jumped turnstiles 
and fences, I was never 
mean. I was a 

sunbeam trying to reach 
the ground, I was shadowed 
by buildings with 
industrial sounds. 

So I jumped off the bumpers 
of runaway trucks, lit wood pallet bonfires
and sat and sucked 
the slippery smoke from hot boys’ lips, 
ran in the rain until I shivered 
and slipped.  

They called me crazy,
But I was never crazy, 
just a little bit wild— 

The way I danced all night 
in underground clubs, let strange boys come close 
and grind and rub my breasts and my booty, 
my bebop butt, but I used to feel 

this feeling in my gut
when I would walk home 
at just before dawn holding my 
pocketknife tight I would long 
and long for a space in the woods
where I could hear the dirt, 
where it was safe to breathe 
and feel my hurt—

I tell you, I was never crazy, 
but just a little wild.
Maybe you were perplexed
and slightly beguiled
by the bangs in my eyes,
the black dye in my hair,
my combat boots,
you thought I did not care,
but I did, I did, I did.

I just wanted to feel. 
I just wanted to live.

Before you read the next poem, Wild Thing, keep in mind that the yoga poems have an even more embodied and magical effect if you hear them — or even more, practice the pose to the best of your ability while you listen to them and take them in. If you are a yoga teacher and want to use this poem in your class or just want to have access to audio, I encourage you to upgrade to paid. But either way, I hope you enjoy the poem and feel permission to be just a little more wild today.

Wild Thing

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

By Corie Feiner


Lest we forget that the origin 
of yoga was wild. Like a monsoon. 
Like an unruly medicinal weed taking over 
roadsides, backyards, abandoned fields. 

In this one-armed backbend balanced 
on the knife-edge of our right foot, we give ourselves 
permission to be astonished, to feel
joyous, to be both grounded and flying, 
our hearts open to the sky. 

Here, we redefine what it means to be wild—
to not be something destructive, 
like the badass dude or the short skirt lady
drinking shot after shot and dancing on the bar, 

but to dare to do something so many of us 
would not dare to do—

to show the soft supple skin of our centers 
and offer it as if there was no part of us 
that was afraid of cougar’s teeth ripping 
our intestines clean or being hurt 
in any way.  

Here, to be wild is to show our deepest selves 
and say, I am here. I am enraptured. 
I am free. 



Sanskrit Name: Camatkarasana

Audio for Paid Subscribers

For my dear paid subscribers, you can listen to me reading Wild Thing here.

Where in your life would you like to see more wildness? This is a contemplation and a conversation and I would love for you to chime in.