Wolf House Fables
Short, first-person reflections to help see yourself with clarity, curiosity, and deeper self-belief. These are tools you can use on a walk, between meetings, or whenever you need to reconnect and fall in love with who you’re becoming.
Wolf House Fables
Walt Whitman Said...
Use Left/Right to seek, Home/End to jump to start or end. Hold shift to jump forward or backward.
A short meditation reflection that explores the psychological concept of Identity Foreclosure and Walt Whitman's line, "I contain multitudes."
There's this concept in psychology called identity foreclosure, which makes me imagine a house with boarded up windows, locks on a door I don't have keys for, but a sense that I could have. Deep breath in. And out. Identity foreclosure is accepting a limiting belief, which then leads to abandoning future identities. I've definitely done this. I've locked into mortgages on small identities, like I'm the one who works behind the scenes, the one who can make a difference, but as second or third fiddle. I've decorated that home, moved furniture around, convinced myself it's where I belong. I created reasons I don't belong out there, somewhere visible, where people could heap blame or praise on me. And I found ways to believe I was fine in my tiny home, watering my tiny plants, playing my tiny violin. Deep breath in. But Walt Whitman said I contained multitudes. And while that tiny home felt quiet and safe for years, I've been tinkering around with moving. I've been visiting other versions of me to see how they feel. I'm putting myself out there, opening the curtains, and discovering I think Walt Rose right. I'm scared of visibility and I'm brave enough to risk exposure now. I'm moving into that home and I'm hanging wild art. I'm also looking at homes on the coast of abundance. I'm experimenting with risks that help me believe I belong there as well. Because there's always going to be enough. And I'm enough. And more than anything, I've had enough of settling for scarcity. I'm too young to foreclose on anything. I have a mess of keys dangling from a keychain too big for my pockets that are going to grow rust. So I'm opening the doors on homes that have been waiting to welcome me in. I'm bringing plants into that studio apartment where I'm the one who loves helping friends and strangers. I'm tickled to realize that the tree house I imagined as a kid is just a bike ride away and ready for me to be the one who plays with reckless abandon, even as an adult. I'm bringing limes and salt and good tequila into this cute little bungalow on the beach where I am the one who believes that every new book will lead to some sort of transformative work. I'm not accepting or adopting or holding on to identities that don't serve me anymore, that are too small. It's okay to outgrow them. It's okay to move on. It's okay to shop around. It's okay to experiment. It's okay because Walt Whitman says I contain a multitude. And so I'm gonna prove him right. In ways that I've actually always dared to dream.