“Wild” by Cheryl Strayed - favorite quotes
As I read Cheryl Strayed's book "Wild" it really moved me and affected me because her personal tragedy felt so real. Below are some of my favorite sentences from the book.
Her love was full-throated and all-encompassing and unadorned. Every day she blew through her entire reserve.
Each night the black sky and the bright stars were my stunning companions; occasionally I'd see their beauty and solemnity so plainly that I'd realized in a piercing way that my mother was right. That someday I would be grateful and that in fact I was grateful now, that I felt something growing in me that was strong and real.
My old life sitting on the surface of me like a bruise. The real me was beneath that, pulsing under all the things I used to think I knew.
Without my mother, we weren't what we'd been; we were four people floating separately among the flotsam of our grief, connected by only the thinnest rope. I could feel myself disintegrating inside myself like a past-bloom flower in the wind. Every time I moved a muscle, another petal of me blew away. Please, I thought. Please.
I'd set out to hike the trail so that I could reflect upon my life, to think about everything that had broken me and make myself whole again. But the truth was, at least so far, I was consumed only with my most immediate and physical suffering. Since I'd begun hiking, the struggles of my life had only fluttered occasionally through my mind. I'd imagined endless meditations upon sunsets or while staring out across pristine mountain lakes. I'd thought I'd weep tears of cathartic sorrow and restorative joy each day of my journey. Instead, I only moaned, and not because my heart ached.
Each evening, I ached for the shelter of my test, for the smallest sense that something was shielding me from the entire rest of the world, keeping me safe not from danger, but from vastness itself. I loved the dim, clammy dark of my tent, the cozy familiarity of the way I arranged my few belongings all around me each night.
He reminded me of all the golden boys I'd known in my life--classically handsome and charmingly sure of his place at the very top of the heap, confident that the world was his and that he was safe in it, without ever having considered otherwise. As I stood next to him, I had the feeling that any moment he'd reach for my hand and together we'd parachute off a cliff, laughing as we wafted gently down. I'd come, I realized, to stare that fear down, to stare everything down, really--all that I'd done to myself and all that had been done to me. I couldn't do that while tagging along with someone else. I had only just begun. I was three weeks into my hike, but everything in me felt altered. I lay in the water as long as I could without breathing, alone in a strange new land, while the actual world all around me hummed on.