We Are Wolves
Updated: Aug 21, 2018
We do not simply “decide to become” with regards to passions. There is something written in us far deeper than we are capable of identifying, which we feel is a natural state of being, either by way of production or lavish indulgence, that strikes a compulsion within us. It’s almost insultingly obvious in a way. We set off in the world with this manufactured idea that all our possible potential can be observed and surveyed through this grand catalog of endless vocations that simply need an introduction and demonstration, after-which we are allowed to select from, as though signing up at a booth in a job fair. It’s a very lofty and presumptuous affair we entrust the world to decide for us. We all have a vast inventory of jobs we can pursue which utilizes our various skills and talents, but that is to only take advantage of segments of our abilities; cherry-picking virtues one posses to get a task done, not empowering our entire machine to operate at its full potential or ability. Take the wolf, a streamlined, powerful, perfectly engineered killing machine. Every aspect of its design, both body and mind, is poetically designed to observe, detect, hunt, and kill prey. There is nothing in the wolf that “decides” to become a predator. Its design, its formulation, its very existence, is to perform in this perfection of destruction. We are no different in our design, mindsets, and uniquely individualized talents. Except, unlike the wolf, we subscribe to a profession, and entire existence which sequesters the majority of our waking hours from our prime years well into our golden ones, only utilizing a few of those skills that permeate through our minds to get a specific chore done (which we could honestly not care less about performing). This is the equivalent of taking the perfect, intrinsic design in the nature of a wolf, locking its head in a stock and presenting it with chicken necks to snap, one after another, in succession. The wolf will perform the chore magnificently, but the entirety of potential and majesty of the animal will fall to a tragic lack of utilization.
And so we go on with our lives, biting the heads off of chickens placed in front of us by someone else’s design, never crouching low in the moonlight, sniffing the particles in the mist, or feeling the vibrations of the air which telltale of where the objects of our desires lay. We are resolved to never methodically focus every modicum of our physiology and psychological capabilities on the objects we were dictated by nature to affix ourselves. So I say to all predators lying in the night, vision obscured by the fog, "Let your nature compel you!" You did not “decide” to become a wolf! You are called by an impulse beyond your control, an ethereal command which is tethered through all the world’s creations to perform to your greatest capacities in the things which cause you happiness at the deepest atomic level. Your strengths and passions “became” you long ago; long before our society started trying to tie you to its stocks and measures of usefulness. The wolf isn’t concerned whether or not its instinctual purpose will win it awards or riches, it performs because deep below the organ, blood, and sinew, it is called to. We are called by something more, something beyond our conscious decision making, a universal design greater than ourselves.
It is not by some cosmic accident that the actions perpetrated in the wolves nature, the passion for the hunt, are exactly those same actions which require it to truly live.