No Policies for Being: Finding the Wild Things on the Outskirts

“We will carve our place into time and space. We will find our way, or we’ll make a way…… We have no apologies for being, find me where the wild things are!”

– Alessia Cara

I have spent years standing on the outskirts while trying to fit into the policies society dictated. It can be cold out here, and sometimes lonely. People have policies for how you should show up, how loud you should be, how you should process grief, or how rational your career path should look.

For a long time, I tried to walk the fine line. I lived with a dual consciousness: the deep, internal knowing that I belonged on the outskirts, and the desperate, external effort to follow the manual anyway. I tried to audit my own soul, scrubbing away the parts that didn't meet the requirements of the center just so I wouldn't make waves.

I became a master at the quiet performance of fitting in, holding my breath, softening my edges, and checking the policy before I spoke. But the center is a crowded, suffocating place where everyone is busy governing everyone else’s way of being. I realized that by trying not to make waves, I was drowning in the still water of my own suppression. I have made choices in my life that took me off the clear paths, often the hard path, the judged path, and even the low road of my natal chart.

As a Pisces Rising, my instinct was often to escape. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and let the world blur out. The Cosmic joke: I have no Earth elements in my chart. When you have no Earth, burying your head in the sand is impossible. There is no solid ground to hide in. Instead of providing an escape, my attempts at avoidance only amplified everything I was going through. My Water became a tidal wave; my Fire and Air became a storm. Without that grounding element, I couldn't pretend. I couldn't be sensible. I was forced to feel the full weight of my choices on the outskirts.

All those choices, the ‘bad’ ones, the ‘weird’ ones, the ones that led me away from the status quo, taught me something the center never could:

When you stop trying to fit the mold, you finally see the mold for what it is: a cage.

In my chart, and in my life, the traits that were labeled ‘bad’ were actually my greatest navigators. They were the "Wild Things" that refused to let me settle for a life that wasn’t mine. They were the parts of me that stayed awake when the rest of me wanted to sleepwalk through a ‘normal’ life.

If everything is truly connected, if the stars, the atoms, and the echoes of our choices are all part of one singular fabric then my weirdness isn't a glitch. It is a vital part of the whole.

The universe required a Pisces Rising with no Earth to stand on the outskirts and report back. It required my specific brand of intensity to carve a new path through time and space.

To apologize for who I am would be to apologize for the universe itself.

A Note on the Cosmic Blueprint: The Missing Element

In Astrology, we look at the four elements, Fire, Earth, Air, and Water, to see how we ground our energy. Earth represents the anchor. It’s the element that helps us tether our big emotions and spiritual visions to the physical world. Without it, there is no buffer or brake system.

For me, having no Earth meant there was no natural buffer between my soul and the world. I couldn't be practical about my pain or be sensible about my misfits. I had to learn to navigate the outskirts without a map or a floor, relying entirely on the “Wild Things" of my intuition.

*This post was inspired by the wild things within and brought to life through a photograph captured by my friend, Andrew Conway.