In a world that begs to be experienced, those of us who like to explore it engage frequently in what the Canadian author Robert Service terms wanderlust.  We set our sights on parts unknown, be they physical, mental, or emotional, and set forth, entirely open to what we find.  We're ready for anything.  Or as Service puts it, we respond to the call of the wild.
     For Service, this call entails nights of frigid cold and little fire, tangles with wild animals and encounters with the unexpected, people gyrating between one wild place to another, caught up in the horizons of the harsh magnificence before them.  For the rest of us, though our call could include these things, it could include countless other things as well:  we all explore limits differently.
     Whatever it be, It is in this call of the wild that we confront ourselves and our world most fully.  We bump against the dichotomy that governs all of existence, the grand balance between beginning, being, and ending.  We step into what we cannot master or tame, the surreal and sightless edge of this enigmatic experience we call life.
     As we should.  We cannot find ourselves, and we certainly cannot find the world if we don't take them apart.  It is the call of the wild, whatever we understand it to be, that fractures what we know so as to show us what we do not.  It's like God:  a wildness that undoes everything else.