what is right for you

Lower morality prepares us for higher morality; in the lower morality there are good and useful rules which, if followed diligently and conscientiously yields either obsession, or, hopefully and mostly, a realisation that there is something beyond the rules yet, crucially, the self-control which is bred through denying any old impulse. The higher morality is simply the intuition, very easily drowned out by greed and fear, or what is right for you. Not the planet, the people, or the church- you. Ah, but the rub is you cannot hear this voice if your only concern is YOU. But with lower morality training you can at least know what is a whimsical or greedy impulse and what isn't. You have to cut loose from ought and should- these are really projections of fear. It is the reason why the higher morality has been misinterpreted so much (and was considered a secret)- it sounds like do what though wilt. But it is simply a realisation of the unity of self and universe interpreted through action. 

An early journey

I was five. I had already started school which was only two roads away. I went with my sister everyday yet I have no actual recollection of any part of the journey except once when I found a St Christopher medal stamped by accident into the fresh tarmacking of the road. I retrieved it with eager anticipation, joy even. Having a St Christopher- which all the Italian and Polish Catholic kids at my school did- was something I most dearly wanted. And now I had my own. The patron Saint of travellers had bewitched me before I even knew it. But the medal belonged to a beautiful silent boy called Ricardo who I adored- in fact by the kind of amazing coincidence that characterises normal life it was his medal, the one that I had for so long coveted, so I had to give it back to him and so I never got one, not even now.

I lived in the small English spa town of Leamington. Once it had been rather a refined place to live. The pump rooms in town where people had taken the cure were now only a minor attraction, an adjunct to the municipal baths where I clung with timidity to the poolside every Wednesday during a swimming lesson before going home to a supper of Brains faggots and frozen peas and potatoes. I was never adventurous when surrounded by a group. I was only given to bravado when I was alone. 

No. Hold on. I was four. It was before I went to school. I was still at home being looked after by my mother because I hadn’t liked the nursery my sister went to. I wanted to be at home. I didn’t want to go to school or be with other kids at least not now. My mum was going to the shops and I went with her with the promise of watching the diggers at work on a reclaimed bombsite they were finally building on. Three big diggers at work while my mum went to the line of shops only a couple of roads away from home. The roads were straight, lined with pollarded limes that shook a black knotted fist of tree at you. My mum would go first in the grocers, then in the vegetable shop and then the butchers and I stood watching the diggers when a man in a long dark coat the kind that get a fur of moisture on them in very cold damp weather appeared by my side and started talking. He had a black old fashioned hat on and a dark scarf. He asked me what I was doing and I told him about watching the diggers. He said that my mum had asked him to take me home. He put out his large leather gloved hand, a paddle of a hand and grasped mine gently. We set off walking down the long straight stretch of pollarded limes, the empty November sky. He seems a nice man I thought though this isn’t the way home but I said nothing.  Maybe he knows the way home a different way I explained to myself. We  were now about a hundred or more yards away from the diggers when I could hear the agitated noise of leather soles on tarmac and a flapping coat of someone running. I recognised the grey shop coat of the nice man Mr Hilton from the grocers shop he was red faced from the run he said my mum was waiting for me the man in the hat without a word slipped my hand was gone hurrying as if sideways down the street. Gone, fast, without a word while Mr Hilton watched him with a puzzled look on his red face. My mum was so happy and upset and said she would never let me watch the diggers alone again and I must never go off with someone even if they said they were taking me home. But what about Mr Hilton. Unless you know them she said.

OK, so I was now five, going to school and I found Ricardo’s Saint Christopher which I dearly wanted to keep for myself and did for a day and then by evening I told my mum and she said I had to give it back or at least tell the school as it probably was someone from the school even though I had found it in the street. After Ricardo I fixated on a girl called Helen who I asked to my birthday- maybe my sixth birthday but she didn’t come and I asked my mum to phone her during the birthday party but still she didn’t come. But another girl called Naomi, a robust boyish girl with dark arched eyebrows who once beat a boy up, she did come and wanted me to be her boyfriend. One day I had done a painting I didn’t want to take home and Naomi agreed to take it home if I agreed to let her call me her boyfriend. I agreed but managed to wriggle out of it later like all things kids do things are soon forgotten new stuff crowds in and life must go on. It is the stuckness of things that characterises the adult world and when they depict childhood- be it the bullying or parentally caused problems they always miss this moving-on-ness of things, the way people always forget, the windows of light in the enshrouding dark of some periods of life.

But my life was not dark. I enjoyed helping a road cleaner pull up weeds in our road. Far away at the end of the road somewhere lived the famous Radio broadcaster Richard Baker. Sometimes he was seen by friends of my mother’s but not ever by my parents who had little time for celebrities. When a jaguar car overtook us my dad would mutter ‘pop stars and criminals’ are the only ones who drive these.

I went up the road on my trike quite a long way in the general direction of Richard Baker’s house but I turned back because of the magnetic pull of our house and the fact that I knew I was never meant to go far. One day however a new boy I liked call Anthony invited me to come round after school. I knew I was not allowed to do this but he explained he only lived one road over from me. It seemed grown-up to just go with him but halfway there I realised I was quite a long way from my house and did not in fact know the way home. I told him I had forgotten that I had to be home and left him. Excuses when you are a child can be anything. They can be purely symbolic. No one argues with them you just make them and go but you have to have one. If you can’t think of a good enough one you stew in silence and go along with whatever happens even though you feel no part of it and that you are being held there against your will.

So I made my excuse and headed down the road towards what I thought was my road but it wasn’t. I went down this long road and slowly I began to realise that I was lost, though everywhere looked familiar. I was not scared but I knew it would take some time to get home. I was troubled that my mum would be worried but not overly so. I kept wandering down streets that all looked a bit similar to mine but none were. However I knew that by a process of elimination (words I naturally did not know but the concept I did already grasp) I would eventually get to my road. So I was not worried. Then I saw something familiar cycling towards me: my mum on her bike with my little sister in her seat on the back. She had come out searching for me. My mum was furious and did not listen to my logical reasoning about eventually it being absolutely certain I would get home. I could not see why she was upset. For many years I never understood adult anger at things that seemed quite logical to me.

The Phenomenology of Wild

Phenomenology classically deals with lived experience. A fleeting or one off experience may be the domain of poetry, but a range of repeated experiences that can be reflected upon is something a phenomenologist can get working on. The experiencer uses his own knowledge derived from the experience and, going back and getting closer, takes apart as much of the coalesced memory of the experience as he can. By doing this he or she arrives at things unsuspected by the analytic approach which goes from explicit knowledge to conclusion without teasing around the hinterland of tacit knowledge.

When we repeatedly experience a thing we build up tacit and explicit knowledge. There is stuff we don’t even know we know, we just do it. There is also the effect of perhaps hidden or buried influences. There may be a buried unconscious impulse lurking below the surface that affects the experience in ways that are not entirely obvious.

As we progress in our look at what being wild means in terms of experience we will surely more areas in which wildness plays a part and correspondingly more ways to talk about being wild.

1. 1.    My starting point is to refer briefly to a book by anthropologist and structuralist Claud Levi-Strauss- L’homme Sauvage- translated as the Savage Mind. This book is naturally rather out of favour in current times. It is hardly politically correct to use such terms as ‘savage’. And even to suggest there are different types of mind is perhaps racist in some way. But what the book does do, is highlight a different way of organising knowledge, and perhaps a different way of experiencing. The ‘savage’ is a bricoleur- a bodger and improviser and a jack of all trades. The modern man is a specialist. The idea of the polymath is fondly imagined to be something that only applied in the past to such greats as Leonardo or Goethe. But those polymaths are closer to the savage mind than a specialist.
2. 2.    The book implies of course that the savage is inferior to us, that he would be better off becoming more like us, that crucially he has nothing to teach us except in an objective sense of increasing facts about savages. He has nothing to teach us that will improve or change our experience of living.
3. 3.    What gets in the way is that the primitive man or indigenous man is characterised as less intelligent than us. There can be no Einstein lurking in the trees clutching a spear. There is of course some truth in this for a contactable tribe. Any child with superior linguistic capabilities would have been attracted out and educated we surmise. What is left behind is the people who are not quite as bright. But primitive man has no such escape. Primitive man, the cave dweller and rock artist, had just as much raw intelligence as us. And we will see that he had a much more balanced view of man’s place in nature than we do. Though he could not leverage his energy as we can through machines, methods and contrivances, he made up for that by superior wisdom- that is- foresight and alignment with his environment over time.

Why are we tame and how can we be more wild?

Modern life is tame. We are like caged beasts so long in a zoo we don’t know we are institutionalised and imprisoned. We think zoo life is normal- with the state or our employer doling out our money which we are then forced to pay to the rentman, the utilities company and the supermarket. We believe we have to live as others live- be like the tame herd. But the tamer we get the more easily we are milked and exploited. We do not need fancy products and clothes and cars and other things that are depleting the planet of wilderness and beauty, polluting the seas with plastic and our rivers with hormones. Yet we believe we need this stuff and this is because we are tame.

Tameness is characterised by fear. When fear is exploited its flipside, greed, comes into play too. Why? Because a fearful man loses sight of the fact that we live in an abundant world utterly suited to human life. He thinks ‘life is hard’- but life is only hard when we impose artificial structures. Humans are immensely adaptable and when they are masters of their own fate they do not mind harsh conditions. These make them stronger and they revel in them. Eskimoes feel the cold- for sure- but they do not think this is a terrible problem. They solve it with fur and fat. But a tame man, forced to work sixteen hours a day in a factory in a damp cold climate- that is hard, that is what will break a man’s spirit.

Men are tamed. When tame the uberstructures of nation, tribe and state become more powerful and more able to ‘act through’ individuals in the group. When a man or woman experiences power and enjoys it they will often act to increase that feeling. Subjugating others is easier if they are tame. So perhaps subconsciously, the power seeker approves measures that make people tamer. And, what is more, they do it in the name of the bigger structures- Napoleon used the idea of the nation of France to enslave millions in his army. The idea of a suprahuman organism acts on individuals and they do its will. It is a kind of hive mind, everyone doing his bit. And the tamer men become the more easily they adapt to being a worker bee, a member of the hive.

But the hive keep us alive you say.

No, what keeps you alive is your humanity, your higher qualities of empathy and pursuit of wisdom and to further both of these you need to be wild, not tame.

The wild man is characterised above all else by fearlessness. He is afraid of nothing. He may be cautious. He may be very canny, but he has no fear because it is business to know his world, and, when it is known, to master it. He therefore has no place for fear. He is above all else, not institutionalised, nor even tribalized to the extent that some tribes make him as tame as some corporations do.

The way a corporation works is to make life without the corporation unthinkable. The way a tribe works is to make life outside the tribe seem unthinkable.

Yet no man is an island. And look at what happens when you leave the tribe- you become an outcast, a scrounger, a parasite. Stranger in the Woods tells the  true story of a young man who lives for 27 years by stealing from remote cabins in Maine and living in a hidden encampment. He is not a hunter or a fisherman or even a farmer- he steals from humans in order to live a ‘free life’ – yet he lives in fear of being caught all the time. When he is, he confesses all. Now he lives a quiet life with his family- an oddball for sure.

No that cannot be a model for anything except madness. The wild man is still a sociable man.

The first step, therefore, is de-institutionalising. It is being self-sufficient.

The wild man refutes land rights. The right to roam replaces the right to own. There are hunting rights and cultivation rights but these are not ownership. There can be no building on the land, no damming and destroying. But when numbers increase because of cities men become tame in order to survive. This is a crime.

The higher man, the man of foresight and intelligence choses to be wild. 

The essence of life is not knowledge. It is taking some piece of knowledge seriously and to heart. You may have heard the injunction- find something you can sell and sell the hell out of it. But you will only DO THIS if you have very much take it to heart and believe you either have no choice in the matter or that this is your course of action, your next step on the rungs of life. A higher point. Because being wise must be accompanied by being wild, being free. Yes, a tame man can be a wise man in words. But he can only be wise in deeds if he is free and his own man.

The celebrity is a proxy wild man or wild woman. The celebrity really ‘lives life’ whereas the tame man just survives. He lives a watered down version of life. Because in the 1980s it was discovered that celebrities sold things the culture reorganised around celebrity worship. Earlier you had to kiss the feet of a royal or a member of the aristocracy to get things done. Now you had to enlist a celebrity.

Wild culture is in opposition to celebrity culture. A celebrity is someone famous for being famous. Their name attracts people who will then buy products associated with that name. The only moral position is to be an anti-celebrity; certainly it is the only way to maintain normal relations with people.

The wild man has something to sell. They may be fruits from the forest, or the fruits of his labour.

Living in transition times

Living in the Transition Times

 We are not living in the End Times as some cultists would assure us, or those, along with a significant number of American politicians believe- ‘the rapture’ but neither are we living in normal times. Ah, you say, no times are ‘normal’. Well, I am going to put forward the case that there are transition times and there are times in which human activity achieves a kind homeostasis, and these times differ significantly.

People have argued since the beginning of time that the past was golden, or even silver and the present was but tarnished metal. People have argued that the end times were upon them; they have also delighted in announcing revolutions and new beginnings. So what on earth can calling the year 2020 ono as ‘transition time’ achieve?

First some defining traits of a transition time. It is a time par excellence in which the normal human desire for family, education, meaningful work and nutritious food is disrupted. It is time when immemorial trust in mysterious and invisible and benign forces is suspended and replaced with fear and perplexity in the face of nature. It is a time in which leadership positions are occupied by people of inferior calibre, in terms of wisdom rather than energy, to those lower down a group or organisation.

But beyond all these symptoms, it is a time of complete and utter polarisation in almost every area of endeavour. Every vote returns a 50/50 verdict. Every politician hovers around the 50% approval mark. Nothing is clear cut. Nothing final or agreed. 

What causes this polarisation of belief? Complexity, or, more directly, a too great reliance on left brain tools at the expense of right brain ones. The left brain knows nothing. It handles the inputs that the right brain (in either conscious or unconscious mode) gives it. Or it deals with the pressures exerted by the society and the world it lives in. It reacts. When we don’t know we oscillate between poles. We remain undecided. Or we smother indecision and plump for something that has emotional, nostalgic or nominally ‘rational’ appeal. And as with any coin toss, over time it randomises out as a 50-50 result. Those cultures that are less traditional, more ‘open’, more litigious, more in thrall to techno-solutions and the wonders of science and at the same time less authoritarian are those that are the most polarised. The reason the next stage after the transition times is authoritarian government – expect that the world over in the next fifty to a hundred years – is that the ONLY left brain solution to polarisation is an authoritarian response. Those in authority will then focus solely on staying in power and will therefore sponsor any social effort which aids this. Look to the margin for how the centre will change- the new models are China, Brazil, India, Turkey, Egypt- strong authoritarian cultures that may or may not utilise conservative religion. Authoritarian consumerism is their preferred philosophy rather than authoritarian terror or war- but they will not shy away from using extreme measures to put down any form or resistance. This is what we will all be living through eventually.

This has to do with the initial democratising effect of the left brain- which resulted in the increasing democracy of the west- up to the point where ALL traditional structures are swept away. Traditional structures take account of left and right brain co-operation. They are inevitably less ‘efficient’ in the obvious short term than a non-traditional left brain solution. So they get swept away. It happened first in the United States as there was less traditional structure (imported from the old country, easily undermined by techno-progress) in place. But it is happening to a greater or lesser extent everywhere.

So the mechanism is: increasing left brain dominance which leads to great questioning of tradition which goes past the point of logic to a sort of demented obsession (in the questioning of gender and other socio-biological norms and of course the extreme opposition to these different lifestyles) to complete polarisation in every area to authoritarian upsurge. Once this new authoritarianism takes hold it will seek to control all areas of the mass media. The internet will become a national project again. Those in authority will not be especially benign but neither will they be inherently paranoid about their own people. Facial recognition software, implanted chips for higher level workers, continuous monitoring of conversation for keyword ‘violations’ will lead to an efficient authoritarian control without the need of a bloated secret police. Indeed monitoring and control will be seen as integral to any project, built in, not an extra. There will be no need for an army of informants as occurred in Stasi-Germany, we will inform on ourselves through our encouraged use of technological objects- every transaction, car journey, phone conversation will be monitored.

But since authoritarianism breeds corruption- it has to- the seeds of the authoritarian’s downfall are already being sown just as he or she establishes their omnipotent rule. This leads to a hybrid form which will spread over most of the planet- gangster rule- rule of the strong and wealthy who use corrupt means to maintain power. Gangster rule needs money to buy influence. Without wealth it loses out to ideological forces- fundamentalist religious forces usually. These forces wage war which impoverishes everyone and then a new authoritarian takes over. Democracy as we know it is a function of left brain automatic questioning of everything, a curious balance between news speed and country size, combined with wealth generated by religion backed industriousness. This is now a thing of the past. We have drained off the ‘stored capital’ of all the great religions. They now serve only to inspire fundamentalist obsession.

Once people start predicting the end of democracy it starts to happen.

There will be protest, there will be an even great silent majority who resent such control and seek to outmanoeuvre it by refusing to use technology. Over time this refusal to engage with the means of surveillance will result in optional implantation of bio-chips in the populace. Would this ever become a legal requirement of citizenship? I suspect only in a very few places. Those who object will move to countries that are more chaotic and therefore more traditional and less beholden to technology and law enforcement. There will be a migration of ‘quality’ (ie. people with a higher truth instinct) people to the margins, a regeneration, and maybe, over time, the establishment of wise rule.

Perhaps in 200 years time.

But right now we are living in the transition times. We are heading towards even greater levels of polarisation. Countries will split, authoritarians will take over. A very negative, pessimistic and superficial message will be beamed out over everyone throughout all mainstream media and educational outlets. Indeed very few organisations will be immune from these negative trends. Mental illness and suicide will sky rocket as a result of people trusting the mainstream and then being defrauded by it.

The key way to survive and indeed thrive in the transition times is understanding that the mainstream does NOT have your best interests at heart. IT is intent on dominating all areas and surviving as an entity. YOU will be fodder for that. Your children will be fodder for that.

On the other hand if you drop out entirely you run the risk of becoming so isolated you cannot function as a human being. You will need to be in the world but not of the world.

extravagant claims

Extravagant claims made by mystical teachers should always be understood metaphorically and treated as such. You don't need to react to them realistically. Only if there seems no possibility of a metaphorical teaching should a literal interpretation be applied with all its attendant problems of motive, possible falsehood, verification or 'fine robes'. 'Fine robes' refers to something the Jesuit Mateo Ricci experienced when he went to China in the 16th century. No one would talk to him about religious matters because he did not wear the robes of a doctor of religion. So he studied for five years and became a bonze, a master of Buddhist teachings. This gave him the 'fine robes' which opened people's ears to what he had to say. But if you are are impressed (or distressed) by an extravagant claim then you are getting less out of a teacher than someone who is really taking all that is on offer. You are still in the judging frame of mind rather than the 'open' or 'transparent' frame of mind which is neither impressed or unnerved by extravagant claims.

Extravagant claims that are easily rumbled as false also serve to flush out those looking for certainty rather than truth, since truth of a useful kind resides in approach, attitude, connections made rather than verification of a simple true/false kind.

In martial arts, students often repeat what seem like extravagant claims in order to boost the status of their particular art, but these claims again serve to create 'the dojo', the place where the teacher can best teach. In the dojo, the control of conditions allows 'magic' to take place- which encourages the students in their studies when they are starting out. When the student realises the world is his dojo he has no more need of 'magic', which, of course, isn't to say very strange and inexplicable things can't happen...

Back to walking in the rain

Walking...walking...walking in the rain. Ah, the dulcet tones of Grace Jones in my head as I tramp over the wet hills in my latest project- a walking guide with a difference- this one is destined to be a high end object of beauty and NOT to be carried in your pack during a day in the hills. It will also explore the idea of walking meditation. There are many many walking guides but there are all so darned workaday. They cause me to yawn. But half of a walk is the thoughts it engenders or the conversations if you are with another. Of course you can have a good conversation walking along a busy highway- but it is more taxing, receives no energy from the surroundings, takes energy in fact and eventually shrivels. I mean the conversation does. Well none of that on these walks....even when it is raining.

As it is now- so on with the 'packa' this is a baggy non-breathable coat with plenty of room inside for a backpack or in my case a side bag and a bumbag (rucksacks are a last resort thing owing to the straps causing sweating). The packa lets you do stuff on the move like get your camera out, make notes etc. It is ideal for a day walk in the rain. If it was colder I'd wear a waxed cotton coat- nothing is better in continuous rain. On a longer hike I'd take a brolly and wear my buffalo top- you need stuff to dry out over night and a soggy raincoat won't, but for day hikes that end indoors you can wear any kind of gear. No need for fancy breathable rubbish. I have found that as long as you have a hat, a rain kilt to cover your money and notebooks in your trouser pockets and a pertex windproof top you can pretty much survive all day in on/off rain. You roll up the rainkilt round your waist when its not raining. But you need to test these things in one hour, two hour , three hour and day long walks. Getting drenched with only a cotton t shirt on under your nylon top is not good in cold weather- but that doesn't mean you need to bring the duvet in a rucksack. By judging the weather report and using your own nous you can devise the minimum rain kit for any outdoor walk you are making. Mostly it is protection against wind you need, not rain. For a multi-day hike different rules apply, but still, think more about how to dry your gear than how to avoid getting wet. Being wet is also secondary to being cold. So by avoiding cold but not wet we can save weight when walking- as long as you can get dry again.

Twiggerland News

I am starting a roughly quarterly newsletter entitled Twiggerland News. It will be full of good things including a few comics, apercu, thoughts, psychological insights and tales of adventure from Twiggerland. Twiggerland is where I go to have adventures and get new ideas- it's a good place and I urge you to join me there...

Now I will need your email to send this august publication (later, perhaps, it will take a real form like a fanzine, but for now it is of the slightly despicable digital format). Collecting emails so you don't subsequently lose them is not tricky unless you are me so if you want to subscribe send me an email with 'Twiggerland News' in the subject bar- that'll be enough. Later I will get a proper form etc. This is for the early adopters...oh yes, my email: robtwigger (at) gmail.com