While in the Amazon, I met a native who comes periodically to the city. He offered me to come live in his village 9 days upstream for as long as I wanted - he said I could live with his family, and they'd teach me the language, and how to hunt and fish, how to get medicines from the plants and trees, how to live independent of civilization.
I have been contemplating what life without civilization would be like ever since. In my fantasy, there would only be two kinds of activities - survival and play. I would do what was necessary to provide my basic needs - food, clothing, shelter. Everything else was optional - I would only do other things because I wanted to. It would be play.
When I think about how I live my life now, I notice that most of my activity is neither survival nor play - I do most of what I do because I should. I should go to work, I should be on time. I should clean the house, cook for my son, spend time with him. I should get that room rented and the basement vacuumed.
Most of what I do on the computer is neither need nor play. I should do a virus check. That list should be put in order, or I will have problems later on. I should update my web site.
There are very few things I do for actual survival - yes, theoretically my job is for my survival - but I don't need that job to survive. I don't have to have a clean house to stay alive. I really don't have to have a car - many people survive just fine without a car. The logical distance between going to work and putting food in my mouth is so remote that I just take it on faith that one is necessary for the other to happen. But what if it's not? What are the other possibilities?
Most of my frustration during the day comes from something not being as it should - the traffic is too slow, my computer crashed, I feel sleepy, my mailbox is filled with junk mail again, people drive slow in the left lane instead of moving to the right. Deep inside I feel all these things shouldn't be, as well as the people suffering from hurricanes, tsunamis, and suicide bombers. The world shouldn't be this way. I shake my mental fist at life, and go on.
But in my idealistic fantasy of the jungle, there is just living. Things just are the way they are. I don't say, the rabbits should be slower so I can catch them easier. I notice how fast the rabbits are, and plan on how to catch them accordingly. I notice when I am cold, and do something about it. I don't say why can't I have a pill instead of searching for a weed to make me feel better. The options are clear, and nothing else exists. When people tell me I have to do things a certain way, I say, why? When nature tells me, I say, okay. There is no one to argue with.
So why do I live with all these shoulds? Why is it so important to me for the world to conform to my idea of how things should be?
Control. If life is predictable, it feels safe. If I can control life, then I can feel safe.
If I do not feel safe, I must believe that life is hostile.
If my environment is hostile, then it was not made for me, nor I for it. I am an alien to my environment, and like a space traveller, I have to have artificial means of life support in order to survive. My life support system is shoulds - holding off reality with my demands of how life should be, approving or disapproving each event during the day, finding out whose naughty or nice by checking my list of approved actions.
We live in an age of technology, where devices are supposed to behave certain ways. Electronics are made to follow the rules of programming - when they deviate from the rule, it is bad - it is an error, a malfunction, and we buy a new one. Technology does not produce creative devices - my PC doesn't decide to become a Mac today just for the fun of it, to see how I will react. And those of us creating technology work hard to be sure our devices and programs follow all the rules exactly, all the time. Is it no wonder that the artist in us suffers?
What would it be like if I were to just let go? To notice what is, to live with it, and to act out of joy and creativity when I wanted, to play with life, dance with it, see how it would react to my teasing and leading. To let go of control, where no outcome is wrong, even if it is surprising or disappointing. What would it be like if I were to let go of trying to be as I should, if I simply did what was necessary to live, and the rest of the time, followed my passion?
Comment posted by Anonymous
at 10/29/2005 11:50:00 PM
I think the simpler life that you fantasy has its pros and cons, and I have had the same fantasy at times, and there are even TV shows now about groups of people simulating living a tribal or survival life as a game, but I'll go along with the civilized life. I've posted a reply to your Oct. 20 blog message which is really a copy of my previous message welcoming you back and commenting on what harm our society is doing to our planet. Andy
Comment posted by Heidi
at 10/29/2005 8:23:00 PM
I read your Blog about the idealistic wilderness life.
Seems to me the ideal mind set would work wonderfully if we were not pre-programmed with our life-long
experiences.
I remember that a friend of mine, coming back from Europe missed a simple thing like iceberg lettuce and another craved the American hamburger.
Thinking -- how would you feel missing the taste of real butter? (having seen you react frequently at
restaurants and retreats to the lousy food *s*.
On the other hand, it is conceivable that we can re-program many of our own desires in order to adapt to the passion of the wilderness freedoms - I have also experienced that kind of adapting - like at retreat where there is no outside communication (at least not for me)) I totally detatch from it - but I also know that it all comes to an end at a specific time. Heidi
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