The following is a post I made for the course I am taking this semester called "Literature for a Living Planet." It is in response to the readings for the week, one from The Abstract Wild by Jack Turner, the other from Wild: An Elemental Journey by Jay Griffiths.
"The wild. I have drunk it, deep and raw, and heard its primal, unforgettable roar. We know it in ourselves, for we are wild to the core. We know it in our dreams, when the mind is off the leash, running wild. 'Outwardly, the equivalent of the unconscious is the wilderness: both of these terms meet, one step even farther on, as ONE,' wrote Gary Snyder. 'It is in vain to dream of a wildness distant from ourselves. There is none such,' wrote Thoreau. 'It is the bog in our brain and bowels, the primitive vigor of Nature in us, that inspires that dream.'"And as dreams are essential to the psyche, wildness is to life."For the Native American O'odham people, the term 'dvajkam,' wildness, is etymologically tied to terms for health, wholeness and liveliness. 'Life consists wild wildness,' wrote Thoreau. 'The most alive is the wildest. All good things are wild and free' and 'In wildness is the preservation of the world.'" Griffiths, p. 78
This first quote invokes a lot in me. Here is what I just posted on Facebook in response to this quote:
Toby Hemenway, in his keynote at the Permaculture Voices conference, stated plainly that human beings are actually the most tamed animal on the planet. We've become docile. How do we reach for a higher aspect of health, for "dvajkam," and be fully present with the earth?Where can we create contexts to explore our wildness, to let go, to surrender? In our class, Becca Deysach has us explore our wildness by wandering in the wild and freewriting. I would argue that in our creativity, we become most wild, most unearthed, deeply engaged. We connect with our primal energy when we can let go, let the words flow, the paint splash, the ink sink in deep.Our life is a sensual one, if we let it be. Don't close up, reach out. Don't shy away, stand tall and be proud of this delicious existence. You are not separate. You belong here. C'mon, love with me!
I love how often Turner quotes Thoreau, and the deep misunderstanding of his words by conservationists and academics alike. His words on the subject resonate with me deeply. I believe that wilderness describes a place, whereas wildness is an experience, a state of being. Wildness exists in all of us, is akin to our DNA. There is no escaping it, ubiquitous to say the least. It exists in every cell in the entire cosmos. Wildness is a way to describe the spark of life, untamed, spontaneous, and synchronistic. There is order in the chaos, and that is what wildness is: chaos. Perhaps we choose the word "wildness" because it is unpredictable, deliciously creative, and overall without structure. We cannot define it, rationalize it, study it or box it in. It is always transforming, the only constant as change. Each of us may appear to look and act the same today as we did yesterday, and yet we are so different in each moment. The passage of time, as we perceive it, can't help but to rearrange us. It is in our desire to control and replicate experiences that our divorce from wildness occurs."Instead of a clash of needs, the preservation of the wild appears to be a clash of work versus recreation. Lacking a deeper experience of wildness and access to the lore, myth, metaphor, and ritual necessary to share that experience, there is no communication, no vision, that might shatter the current dead-end of wilderness debate. Both groups exploit the wild, the first [farmers, ranchers, loggers, commercial fishermen] by consuming it, the second [conservationists, "fun-hogs" (experiencing wilderness through recreation) by converting it into a playpen and then consuming it. Worship of wilderness designation thus becomes idolatry, the confusion of a symbol with its essence. In either case the result is the same: destruction of the wild." Turner, p. 87
I am very guilty of what Turner describes here; I am a "fun-hog" and consume wildness through experience, and yet I have an aversion to viscerally experiencing it as he describes further on. It is scary to me, imagining spending a month in the deepest wilderness. I have an aversion because I have never considered myself an "outdoors" type, and fear my ability to survive out there. There aren't grocery stores in the wilderness of the Himalayas, the Amazon. Would I be able to surrender to that level of survivalism? Could I surrender to the abundance that exists there? To surrender my fears to the knowing that I will be cared for?
"Yet most of us, when we think about it, realize that after our own direct experience of nature, what has contributed most to our love of wild places, animals, plants -- and even, perhaps, to our love of wild nature, our sense of our citzenship -- is the art, literature, myth and lore of nature. For here is the language we so desperately lack, the medium necessary for vision. Mere concepts and abstractions will not do, because love is beyond concepts and abstractions. And yet the problem is one of love. As Stephen Jay Gould wrote, 'We cannot win this battle to save species and environments without forging an emotional bond between ourselves and nature as well -- for we will not fight to save what we do not love.' The conservation movement has put much thought, time, effort and money into public policy and science, and far too little into direct personal experience and the arts. There is nothing wrong with public policy and science, but since they will not produce love, they must remain secondary in the cause of preservation." Turner, p. 89
I believe in love. I believe Turner is correct here. I am struggling to imagine initiating all the 8 billion people on this earth to experience the wild viscerally, to achieve what he believes it takes for people to "fight for what they love." Is there some other way? Can there be smaller steps in the interim? Do we have time for baby steps into this wildness? This deep identification as Nature, in reverence and respect? Is this really the only way?
"The wild. I have drunk it, deep and raw, and heard its primal, unforgettable roar. We know it in ourselves, for we are wild to the core. We know it in our dreams, when the mind is off the leash, running wild. 'Outwardly, the equivalent of the unconscious is the wilderness: both of these terms meet, one step even farther on, as ONE,' wrote Gary Snyder. 'It is in vain to dream of a wildness distant from ourselves. There is none such,' wrote Thoreau. 'It is the bog in our brain and bowels, the primitive vigor of Nature in us, that inspires that dream.'"And as dreams are essential to the psyche, wildness is to life."For the Native American O'odham people, the term 'dvajkam,' wildness, is etymologically tied to terms for health, wholeness and liveliness. 'Life consists wild wildness,' wrote Thoreau. 'The most alive is the wildest. All good things are wild and free' and 'In wildness is the preservation of the world.'" Griffiths, p. 78
This first quote invokes a lot in me. Here is what I just posted on Facebook in response to this quote:
Toby Hemenway, in his keynote at the Permaculture Voices conference, stated plainly that human beings are actually the most tamed animal on the planet. We've become docile. How do we reach for a higher aspect of health, for "dvajkam," and be fully present with the earth?Where can we create contexts to explore our wildness, to let go, to surrender? In our class, Becca Deysach has us explore our wildness by wandering in the wild and freewriting. I would argue that in our creativity, we become most wild, most unearthed, deeply engaged. We connect with our primal energy when we can let go, let the words flow, the paint splash, the ink sink in deep.Our life is a sensual one, if we let it be. Don't close up, reach out. Don't shy away, stand tall and be proud of this delicious existence. You are not separate. You belong here. C'mon, love with me!
I love how often Turner quotes Thoreau, and the deep misunderstanding of his words by conservationists and academics alike. His words on the subject resonate with me deeply. I believe that wilderness describes a place, whereas wildness is an experience, a state of being. Wildness exists in all of us, is akin to our DNA. There is no escaping it, ubiquitous to say the least. It exists in every cell in the entire cosmos. Wildness is a way to describe the spark of life, untamed, spontaneous, and synchronistic. There is order in the chaos, and that is what wildness is: chaos. Perhaps we choose the word "wildness" because it is unpredictable, deliciously creative, and overall without structure. We cannot define it, rationalize it, study it or box it in. It is always transforming, the only constant as change. Each of us may appear to look and act the same today as we did yesterday, and yet we are so different in each moment. The passage of time, as we perceive it, can't help but to rearrange us. It is in our desire to control and replicate experiences that our divorce from wildness occurs."Instead of a clash of needs, the preservation of the wild appears to be a clash of work versus recreation. Lacking a deeper experience of wildness and access to the lore, myth, metaphor, and ritual necessary to share that experience, there is no communication, no vision, that might shatter the current dead-end of wilderness debate. Both groups exploit the wild, the first [farmers, ranchers, loggers, commercial fishermen] by consuming it, the second [conservationists, "fun-hogs" (experiencing wilderness through recreation) by converting it into a playpen and then consuming it. Worship of wilderness designation thus becomes idolatry, the confusion of a symbol with its essence. In either case the result is the same: destruction of the wild." Turner, p. 87
I am very guilty of what Turner describes here; I am a "fun-hog" and consume wildness through experience, and yet I have an aversion to viscerally experiencing it as he describes further on. It is scary to me, imagining spending a month in the deepest wilderness. I have an aversion because I have never considered myself an "outdoors" type, and fear my ability to survive out there. There aren't grocery stores in the wilderness of the Himalayas, the Amazon. Would I be able to surrender to that level of survivalism? Could I surrender to the abundance that exists there? To surrender my fears to the knowing that I will be cared for?
"Yet most of us, when we think about it, realize that after our own direct experience of nature, what has contributed most to our love of wild places, animals, plants -- and even, perhaps, to our love of wild nature, our sense of our citzenship -- is the art, literature, myth and lore of nature. For here is the language we so desperately lack, the medium necessary for vision. Mere concepts and abstractions will not do, because love is beyond concepts and abstractions. And yet the problem is one of love. As Stephen Jay Gould wrote, 'We cannot win this battle to save species and environments without forging an emotional bond between ourselves and nature as well -- for we will not fight to save what we do not love.' The conservation movement has put much thought, time, effort and money into public policy and science, and far too little into direct personal experience and the arts. There is nothing wrong with public policy and science, but since they will not produce love, they must remain secondary in the cause of preservation." Turner, p. 89
I believe in love. I believe Turner is correct here. I am struggling to imagine initiating all the 8 billion people on this earth to experience the wild viscerally, to achieve what he believes it takes for people to "fight for what they love." Is there some other way? Can there be smaller steps in the interim? Do we have time for baby steps into this wildness? This deep identification as Nature, in reverence and respect? Is this really the only way?
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