the loneliness of the inner journey
The more I seek a life characterised by slow and simple, the more I am uncomfortable with recognition and power, and desire truth and humility, the less I feel at home in the world. I am discovering that my inner journey is actually less about acquiring attributes and more about shedding. Shedding the masks I have worn, but also divesting the mindsets and attitudes that have defined my lifestyle and that are unchallenged in mainstream media and public discourse. It seems like the tribe I feel most at home among is marginal and probably considered a bit weird. Am I sliding into misguided weirdness, or am I seeing the front edge of human consciousness?
It’s little things that trigger these thoughts.
People come back from travel and have ‘done’ Brazil rather than being humbled by her. I walk around our town house and feel burdened by cupboards and rooms filled with ‘stuff’ (good and useful stuff mind you!) when our cultural story assumes I should aspire to more of it, a bigger house, status toys and a better car. I care less about politics and professional sport. The more I experience connection to place, the more diminished is my appetite for travel of any kind, especially tourism. I am less tolerant of opinionated people who don’t try to understand others and feel crap when that is me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about where this all comes from and what is changing in my soul. One idea that keeps coming up is how ingrained the mindset of conquering, or being in control and in command, how ubiquitous the aspiration for dominance is. It shows up for me in recreation and fitness aspirations, in professional development, in personal growth narratives, and up and down and all across the economy. In fact most places I stop and listen …
The thing that is difficult about naming this, is that it is a much lauded attribute. I have been taught that it is a good thing to be in control. I have been taught that it is a strength to beat my will into submission. I have been taught that it is a sign of discipline to conquer my weaknesses. I have been taught that it is appropriate to tame my environment, that it is my rightful place to have dominion. I have been taught to plan, to set goals - to control the future. I have been taught to think about the past in ways that conform it to a preferred narrative (control the past). I have been taught that it is a good thing to use one’s life to make an impact, to achieve things, to win, to be at the top of a pile, to have authority.
Imposing myself on my environment, conquering, seems to come with being a descendant of empire, with being educated in a colonising society. I’ve never considered myself innovative or an early adopter. But maybe I am OK at observing patterns and trends, and it seems to me that the society of which I am a part, which undeniably has facilitated so much good, is fraying and on the verge of unravelling. The systems and infrastructure that have got us into the 21st century are perhaps no longer fit for purpose as technology catapults us into unimaginable challenges and opportunities, the global geopolitical fault lines open up beneath us and the economy shudders under the pressures of debt and impossible growth imperatives.
Sometimes a little phrase speaks with clarity and wisdom. This is what happened to me a couple of days ago as I sat in the autumn sun on the Geelong waterfront slowly musing through a book given to us by a friend.
Outdoor adventure, ironically, has also fallen prey to the conqueror mindset. Since the first summit of Mt Everest (or probably before), mountains have become trophies. We now notch up walks, oceans and canyons as achievements. For me, this attitude mirrors our western view of the natural environment as a resource to be mined (literally) or a beautiful thing to be consumed. (as in, I’ve ‘done’ the Gibb River Road.)
In contrast, I want to learn from people who know how to be slow and respectful in nature. People who (yes!!!) hug trees, who lay on their backs and look at the stars, people who care about a whole body experience of being vulnerable in nature. And so, I’ve been conscious for some time of slowing down and being in nature rather than recreating in it, or conquering it. So I swim in the river to feel its currents, to see its colours and know it. I walk the Great Ocean Walk to pay my respects to its curves, textures, plants and animals.
So it stopped me in my mental tracks when Jodi Wilson wrote,
“Is this a place to conquer – or a place to connect with?
We can choose to conquer life or connect with it, awaken our senses, be aware of the light and the shadow, sit in our experiences and feel it all.”
That’s it. Life is not to be beaten, to be controlled. Life is not to conquered. I’ve been thinking about my relationship with nature and the posture of connecting rather than conquering, Jodi Wilson invites me to expand that posture to all of life. So when the inevitable challenges to my security, comfort and convenience invade my privilege, rather than endure, navigate through or around, or overcome, I wonder what it means to ‘connect with’?
I am a student of this kind of consciousness. Every now and again I get a taste of the liberation of letting go, or releasing and simply being. But for now they are hard won glimpses, albeit intoxicating ones.
It is as I pursue being not doing, becoming not achieving, connecting not enduring, that I feel the alienation. Who else is on this journey? Who else feels unsettled by entitlement, status and power, by conquering? Where are the people drawn to simplicity, slow and small? Where are the people who immerse themselves in life, seeking connection with mindfulness, bodyfulness and spirituality?
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