A Wilder Way of Being

At A Wilder Harmony, we didn’t operate by the clock, but we did have rhythm. Our days unfolded with a natural flow—rituals, songs, and shared experiences that gave shape to the time we spent together. Harmony wasn’t imposed; it emerged. It rose and fell like breath, like tides, like moon phases. And when space was made for dissonance—pain, struggle, conflict—harmony returned with deeper resonance.

But harmony didn’t mean letting go of leadership. In fact, it required it.

We understood that children thrive not just on freedom, but on clear, attuned guidance. They looked to us—not just for permission, but for direction. And we took that responsibility seriously. Leadership, in our view, wasn’t about control—it was about service. It meant knowing the children deeply, meeting them where they were, and making decisions that supported their long-term growth, not just their immediate comfort.

There’s a tendency in some progressive spaces to become overly child-centered—to prioritize the child’s voice so fully that adult leadership fades. But children need more than affirmation. They need inspiration. They need adults who embody integrity, who hold the larger picture, and who model what it means to live with purpose and accountability.

We saw children not as problems to be managed, nor as fragile beings to be endlessly accommodated, but as whole people in the making—with roots in generosity and curiosity, and with the capacity for cruelty and greed, depending on what is cultivated. Our role was to cultivate wisely.

Wildness, in this context, replaces coercion—but not clarity. It moves us away from over-cultivation and indulgence, and toward trust in the innate human drive to grow, connect, and contribute. Harmony becomes more meaningful when it arises from within, not from imposed control—but it still needs structure to thrive.

The word wilder—rather than just wild—suggests movement. It’s a process, a direction, a rebalancing. It’s wilder than conventional approaches to harmony, which often rely on rules, punishment, or pressure to conform. But it’s also stronger than permissiveness. It’s a rewilding of human community—anchored in reciprocity, responsibility, and relationship.

We need leaders who serve, and communities that hold each other accountable—not just to comfort, but to growth. That’s the kind of harmony we practiced. And that’s the kind of harmony I believe can help us move forward—together.

What does a wilder kind of harmony look like in your relationships, your work, or your community?

Where do you see the balance between freedom and leadership, and how do you hold it?