Bumper Stickers, Messages, and the Quality of “Wild” –

Today I saw a truck in the shopping center parking lot that was loaded (as is mine, though at the opposite side of the spectrum) with bumper stickers. I did not want to stick around until the truck’s owner showed up – to see his/her face and eyes and countenance.

The messages were pregnant with blatant and bold hate and intolerance. The one that hit me first and hardest was "Liberals are terrorists". Others included a little rhyme, "I won’t hide my white pride", "Seal our borders", and a message that was nastily directed (in a racial sense) at those who voted for President Obama. It saddened me to read them, so I made a conscious effort to re-direct my attention and thoughts to the quest for positive and longed-for solutions to this kind of blind hatred and intolerance. What a wonderful world we could have if we were to replace all hatred with compassion. Picture it!

Bumper stickers are the one way we can and do "advertise" what matters to us, what we believe, the way we think, where our spirit resides. Bumper stickers do affect people who see them. How often have you giggled when you found yourself waiting in traffic in back of a vehicle with humorous bumper stickers? Or shifted your thinking while viewing profoundly inspiring bumper stickers? Seen any political bumper stickers that were either to your liking or kind of got your hackles up?

Most of my bumper stickers are about kindness to animals, compassion in general, love, and beauty. One of them has an inviting message about Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. Another of them (one of my oldest and original bumper stickers that I’ve had to shellac to help preserve it from the elements) says "Wild Women Don’t Get The Blues" (though I assure you they definitely do get the blues). Women tend to like that bumper sticker and view it with humor, sort of in a way that is equal to a wink. During the first couple of years my truck wore the message, I had two incidents involving gentlemen who were incensed by it. One shouted to me in traffic on the Kingston Pike, "You will burn in hell!" The other said something equally harsh about damnation. Another time, in front of the post office on Sutherland, a young man asked, in a very sincere tone, "Is it true that wild women don’t get the blues?" I replied, "It’s not true". He responded in a thoughtful tone and with downcast eyes, "I didn’t think so...wild men get the blues, too". Poor kid, I thought – he must be going through something.

Those zealots of judgement (I like the "e" in the word "judgement") among us who see things totally in polarized black and white – superior and inferior – bad and good – those who put disparaging labels on others for the sake of elevating themselves, apparently equate the word "wild" with "immoral" or "wicked". No! "Wild" means wild – untamed, free, natural, able to make one’s own decisions and travel on one’s own path, able to respect, honor and be at one with nature, able to be humane and human, able to recognize one’s interconnectedness with the rest of creation, able to err and forgive oneself (and others). I will strive to live out my days as a wild woman in all those ways.