Animals in a Zoo and Layers of an Onion
How humans have created their own prison and fail to see the way out
Outsiders,
I was going to write you about one of the world’s greatest farmers this time around, but since I’ve been laid up due to this shoulder injury, my wheels have been turning more than normal. Combine this with some things I’ve been listening to, having a plumbing issue in my old farmhouse, cutting the plumber and carpenter sizable checks, and being tired of shelling out money for such things, I couldn’t help but string these thoughts together to share with you. I hope they will spur some dialogue, not only with me but with one another, for I sense that the world is moving in a direction in which contending with such issues will be forced rather than voluntary.
You see, friends, right around the same time I discovered water seeping into my downstairs ceiling (upstairs bathroom—sigh), I had been listening to a few talks given by Richard Manning, the author of Against the Grain, in which he speaks on the maladies of civilization. I had read Against the Grain some time ago, but something has kept me coming back to his work.
In a brief clip on YouTube entitled Richard Manning on the Psychosis of Civilization, Manning likens humans to animals in a zoo, “deprived of the very things that keep an animal going. The smells, the sights, the sounds, the hunting. And they become psychotic.” I believe this explains the vast majority of human ailments, be they physical, mental, emotional or spiritual—they are all intertwined, of course— for we have disconnected ourselves from everything that makes us human, makes us feel alive.
The invention of the minutes hand on the clock—thank you, Industrial Revolution—and the extreme division of labor that we see today have contributed greatly to this. As little as three or four generations ago, many of our ancestors had several life-supporting skills. It seems the more we’ve allowed ourselves to be pushed into specialization, the more we’ve convinced ourselves of the comforts we need: dishwashers, microwaves, heat pumps, flush toilets, smart TVs, several other types of screens, air conditioning, etc. And, of course, those comforts cost us a great deal of money, which keeps us in the forever loop of work, work, work to pay for them until, if we’re lucky, can afford to retire. Many, many people in the US, for example, may never be able to retire.
Chronic stress, anxiety, depression, obesity, autism, ADD/ADHD, malnutrition, heart disease, diabetes, cancer, etc., are rampant these days. Ailments that our non-city-dwelling ancestors likely had little concept of. They are all bi-products of what “civilization” has become. Is this really progress, I ask myself every day. If the grid went down, what percentage of humanity would perish within a month, not only because of their lack of skills, but also their lack of community? 99%?
With leaking pipes in my house and having a ceiling in a room ripped out and replaced, I couldn’t help but ponder the trade-offs that would come with not having indoor plumbing at all—and other number of conveniences.
Composting toilets—bucket style— is already a thing here at my house. Not in the main house, but I have them on the land here. If done properly throughout the entire process, the stench is almost non-existent and it will biodegrade. (Never put this on your vegetable gardens, people. I don’t care what the “greenies” say. Let it fertilize trees.) But, of course, this is untenable for anyone living in cities, suburbs, or anywhere with strict zoning laws. This is entrapment at its finest, my friends.
I still say its a crime that “civilization” has been constructed in a way that has us urinating and defecating in potable water every day. Why don’t the “save the planet” crazies ever talk about that instead of throwing soup on the Mona Lisa?
I’ve been asking myself, if I had to haul water from my second well (hand pump), would I be miserable? In winter, I’m certain I wouldn’t be thrilled about hauling water, though I’m guessing I’d feel invigorated after having done so. But maybe I’d be more conscientious of my water usage if I actually had to haul it? Maybe I wouldn’t dirty as many dishes? Maybe I’d use a lot less water to bathe? I certainly wouldn’t be taking long baths—one luxury I’d admittedly miss like hell.
At the end of the day, the financial cost would be miniscule and I’d be more physically fit (healthier) for it, eliminating many potential health problems along the way. That said, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that in my condition (recovering from shoulder surgery), I’d be hard-pressed to carry a gallon of water for more than a minute, let alone enough to provide for my needs.
Community is essential to survival.
If we zoom out and examine the larger picture, it must be admitted that culturally speaking, we are adverse to expending energy except for a paycheck (and even that is questionable these days). Comfort produces a weak species. Hardship, or at least a some friction, creates a more resilient human being. The proof is in the pudding. Look at us. We’re unhealthier and unhappier than ever, despite what can be perceived as material abundance. The Depression era generation is rolling in their graves.
Alan Watts, in all his wisdom, once explained how we work so hard for money and, instead of having real, wholesome fun after work, we go home and watch TV (these days: YouTube, Netflix, etc). He defines TV as “an electronic reproduction of existence, which is cut off from you by a glass wall. It has no smell. If you’re very rich it has color. But you are, as in a zoo, where you look at something beyond the bars where it says, ‘Do not touch the exhibits.’ You cannot touch it. You cannot mingle with it. You can merely witness it in a passive way.”
We are so disconnected from our true nature that things such as “wild swimming” —swimming in natural bodies of water; what a concept!— “rewilding,” and “forest bathing” have become trendy. Of course, as with all trends, their popularity will pass and people’s time in front of screens will bounce back to their scarily high levels if they ever dropped in the first place.
We go on hunting expeditions in far-flung places not for food, but to have an adventure, to feel alive, to exert our dominance on the natural world. Similar motivations drive us to buy expensive sports cars, boats, and large houses. We are so disconnected from ourselves and nature that we attempt to fill the voids we feel inside with experiences and material items that, in reality, do little to assuage our angst and nothing to cure us of our spiritual and emotional poverty. As Jason Breshears once said, “We lose ourselves in dressing our bodies while we starve our souls.”
Surprisingly, I feel this way to some degree about my own life, even though I live in a remote rural area and closer to nature than a vast majority. I still feel a distance between myself and my pure nature that’s somewhere lurking inside of me. A question I repeatedly ask myself is, “Where does progress stop and regression begin?”
We’ve traded our lives and vitality for money, ego, and comfort—and most of the time rather unconsciously too. But how do we get out of this prison we’ve created, this human farm?
The most concise and helpful answer I’ve come up with is stop. Stop. Peel off the layers of the onion. What can we stop buying, using, doing to simplify our lives? The less we buy, use, and do, the less we need to work and make money. But possibly more important is that it frees us to do things that invigorate ourselves, even if it may appear to be work: chopping wood, growing and harvesting food, hunting and fishing (for food), etc.
Many people push back on these ideas, but I’ve never met anyone who, after spending enough time living this sort of way, has regretted leaving “civilization” behind (to whatever extent they have). If they did, they could go right back to it. It’s like debt: if you pay off your mortgage and regret doing so, the bank will likely give you another one. However, the predicament I suspect we’re about to find ourselves in is that such change may be forced upon us sooner rather than later and many of us will be ill-equipped to cope.
My shoulder injury has been a blessing in some ways. I can’t really sit and type comfortably at my computer, so unless my mother sits and types for me, I don’t use it much. However, the biggest blessing is that I’ve pretty much given up on my smartphone. I haven’t been able to hold it up in front of my face for quite some time, so using it requires me to lay it flat on a table and hunch over it or put it on a tabletop easel and and stare at it that way. (It’s quite annoying and difficult to type if you can’t hold the darn thing. Try it for an entire day. You’ll see what I mean.)
Yes, I still use it, but it’s only for calls at this point. The next time I have to visit the surgeon for a follow-up, I’m stopping at Verizon and getting a “Basic” phone, as they like to call it. I was thinking about going to straight to landline, but I’ll give the flip phone a shot for a bit. If it ends up feeling redundant, then I’ll give it the boot and stick with the landline that I already have.
With all of that said, I am curious of your thoughts. I know most don’t agree with me, and that’s OK. I’m wondering how you’ve simplified your life? Or if you have? Have you learned new, life-supporting skills? Have you replaced modern day pleasures with simpler ones from days past? What do you think the most important changes humans need to make?
Looking forward to your musings.
—JM
TPTB have used the tools of technology in their quest to own and control everything. When the last of the fossil fuels is gone, and all the soils have become barren, we may discover that "The Last of Us" was a documentary. No matter how much power and money can be amassed, Nature always wins.
I've been watching the Last Kingdom on Netflix and re-reading The Da Vinci Code, and earlier this week it dawned on me how much more connected our ancestors were with Mother Nature in her various manifestations rather than a single humanistic deity. I've just begun thinking about this, but your post is very timely.