I love this word. Probably because I have out-sized fangs that tend to pop out at times. No, I’m not a werewolf. Or a were of any kind. (Actually, when my lips are dry, they catch on my fangs and it just looks like my canines suddenly become huge.) It still surprises me to hear that I scare people with them. I’ve been called ferocious before. The last time was during my divorce.
I started thinking about the word, and I’ve come to the determination that it’s gotten a bad rap. We should embrace our ferocious selves. Rip into things that excite us and suck the marrow out of every last bone. Get everything we can out of everything that fuels our most secret dreams. Be bold. Be ferocious. Take a lesson from the alphas of the pack and never back down. Revel in your own personal palaces of joy. Ferociously joyful.
And don’t forget to flash your fangs in a feral grin!