Both Sides
It has been more than five but less than seven years since I felt an irresistible urge to howl at the moon. Not necessarily full and absolutely bright as it is today, scientists named it a beaver moon, the shiniest of the year; there was no darkness above deserted fields or the company of a dog, a cat and a girl at the time, but sudden emptiness under the polluted skies of a huge, populous city together with pure lust to experience the perks of being a free, wild, dangerous and surely endangered wolf. I just cycled around then, with neither a time frame nor a destination. I used to do it with headphones, almost always with blasting music on repeat.
So I did howl at the beaver moon this silent night, despite the possible embarrassment of the dog, the cat and the girl, who thus fulfilled the perhaps involuntary role of a pack. It's part of our deepest earthly nature, both the wolf skin and the sense of belonging. Or so I believe.
(…) Wolves, as creatures associated with both life (through their vitality and strength) and death (through their role as scavengers and symbols of destruction), perfectly embodied this cyclical worldview. The wolf's ability to thrive in the harsh Nordic environment also made it a symbol of resilience and adaptability – qualities highly valued by the Norse people. In this way, the wolf became a teacher, showing humans how to survive and thrive in a challenging world.
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