It was all unknown to me then, as I sat on that white bench on the day I finished my hike. Everything except the fact that I didn’t have to know. That it was enough to trust that what I’d done was true. To understand its meaning without yet being able to say precisely what it was, like all those lines from The Dream of a Common Language that had run through my nights and days. To believe that I didn’t need to reach with my bare hands anymore. To know that seeing the fish beneath the surface of the water was enough. That it was everything. It was my life – like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me.
How wild it was, to let it be.
– Cheryl Strayed, Wild
i love this book so much!!! thank you for writing about this book, Lindsey.
one of the best memoirs.
Ditto to the writer above.
I recently interviewed Ms. Strayed for a blog interview. It’s Wild that her book is Oprah’s first book of her ‘restart’ book club.
Just read the Time magazine article about her and I want to run out and buy everything she’s ever written. She seems very, very wise… something, I’m sure, that came from living through some tough things. Wow. Thanks for the reminder to get my butt to a bookstore soon.
Loved this book, too. Proof that from our deepest wounds emerge our greatest gifts. I think I’ve now bought5 copies to give away.
Great quote – I haven’t read her book yet, but it’s on my list! Thanks!
Just finished! Most appropriate title ever – it was Wild! XO