There is an old story about Hercules and the Nemean lion. The lion could not be killed because its hide was impenetrable and every weapon glanced off the golden skin. Eventually Hercules had to go into the lion’s cave and wrestle it with his bare hands. When the struggle was over he skinned the lion and wore its hide as a cloak. And so by wearing the lion’s skin, Hercules carried its power with him.
Perhaps this is how it is with our inner wildness. The parts of us that feel too strong, too much, too untamed — rage, longing, grief, fierce imagination — cannot simply be pushed away. As with the lion’s hide, they repel our attempts to suppress them. And these efforts at control come at a high cost. We find ourselves depleted and cut off from something essential and alive within us.
Like Hercules, we are called to step into the cave and meet our wildness more directly. To feel its weight and force. To listen to what it asks of us. In the cave, something begins to shift. What once felt overwhelming starts to move with us rather than against us. What appeared as something to restrain becomes a source of strength and vitality. Not because we conquered it, but because we learned to stay in relationship with it.