International Rewilding Discussion Forum

So cultivation in any form is a no-no in rewilding? Is that why this thread was flushed?

Your blog is fantastic, Glenn, I'll definitely be back to read more.

If not gratitude, then at least a keen eye on the lookout for what's good, useful, advantageous and/or satisfactory. I think in the wild we'd have to be always mindful of what we had that was essential to our survival and appreciate it through appropriate upkeep. In civilization things are either disposable, easily reacquired, serviced by a "professional," or otherwise taken care of so that we can just "sit back and enjoy." If the only way we can stay active in the maintenance of the good things in our life is to say thanks, then that's probably at least a small step in the right direction.

Quote from: MamaLove on October 17, 2011, 11:21:00 AM

...For me, when I'm out hiking and enjoying the stream, the birds, the smell of humus, the sun filtering through the trees, it just feels profoundly disrespectful to leave any trash I encounter.  I feel compelled to remove it. My own personal neurosis, I guess!

Not just your neurosis, Mama Love.

I enjoy some tobacco under a poor, civilised-restrained tree in the office complex where I work, every day.
And every day, after greeting the tree and bestowing a stream of smoke upon it, I look at the litter of dog ends, bubble gum and plastic which humans have thrown down around my arboreal friend. This, although there is a bin less than a metre away.

When I have finished my smoke and my visit, I usually pick up the litter.

Inspiring to know I'm not the only one who befriends trees!

I think it helps to erode the dominant paradigm, which keeps the unimaginative trapped in their "this is how it's always been" rut. The way I understand it, rewilding involves a huge shift in perspective, new mental habits, a breaking out of the concretized reality we've always assumed to be the "only way." For the general population to see others in action, speaking, marching, dreaming, plotting, participating in their own destiny, might inspire a permanent shift away from civilization as we've known it.

If pop culture presents itself as a bridge from where the kid is at to a healthier place, then by all means.  I think it is good to inspire people by any means necessary, and if that means speaking in a language they can understand, then that's a good thing. I see some parents limiting their kids with stories and pop culture characters, so be sure to make it open ended. For example, my son will ask me something like, "do vampires fly?" and when confronted by this kind of question, I'll always respond that it's something someone made up, and he can imagine it as he chooses. I guess my point is, if Dora gets the child into the forest, great, but don't let Dora dictate what happens in the forest. That's my take on it, anyway.

I'd like to share this story with the group. I wrote it several years ago, when my experience with rewilding was beginning to emerge. I welcome any feedback.

The Waterstone's Yard
April 24, 3 p.m.

We are sitting in the unmown grass in the warm afternoon sun, nibbling the oregano, peppermint and lemon balm that grow around a small maple tree.  Mr. Waterstone tells me that he has eaten leaves and flowers off every kind of plant.  I list things I've heard are deadly poisonous - foxglove, nightshade, poinsettia.  He says he doesn't know about poinsettia, but he's eaten the other two.  I want to ask him what kind of trip he had afterwards, but I am too busy absorbing this new information.

I was raised to be afraid.  Everything was known to be poisonous, dirty, and/or evil, including my own body, my own thoughts.  The world was out to get me.  As a child I made mud pies in the yard, using ice plant for green beans and dandelion flowers for garnish, but I knew never to put anything in my mouth.

Now here I am carefully plucking a small oval leaf, feeling the bright mint oil wake up my tongue, smelling its sharpness on my fingers.  I see all kinds of crawling things among the small stems and leaves, including quick spiders and multi-colored beetles.  I forget my dislike of insects as I succumb to the urge to snuggle into the greenness, melting down into the lushness, being taken over, disappearing.  The breeze will tangle my hair so that I am woven into the grass, the sun will bake my skin so that I am the color of the soil.  My fingernails will grow like roots into the ground, holding fast to deep set rock.  My lips, nostrils, eyelids, earlobes will tingle with the touch of the light pulling up, stretching up, thinning my skin into delicate leaf shapes to photosynthesize food to feed my spine that turns tough and woody, lying along the ground like a rope of ivy vine.  I will be wildness, free and unafraid in the sanctuary of this untamed garden.

Suddenly I sit up.  I was on an errand run before I stopped off here.  I must get to the bank before it closes, drop off some packages at the post office, pick up some papers from the school.  My relaxed body remembers its form and dimensions as I tense muscles to stand.  I say goodbye.

As I drive away, window down to let in air, my body may be the same, but my mind has metamorphosed just enough so that all the green life I see, I recognize as kin.

Gatherings involving food can cultivate a deeper bond between individuals and the group in general. When I waited tables I came to understand that many of the customers were hungry not only for food but for the social setting, to be fed and seen and to interact with others, even though it was heartlessly commercial, but it was perhaps their only opportunity to be part of a "feast" of sorts. It made me quite sad and I tried to be mindful of this need as I interacted with them, to feed this part of their experience. Ideally of course individuals would be part of a tribe gathering around the spoils of the hunt or some other reason to join together and feast. Those of us still living in civilization could start small with neighborhood potlucks or even just inviting friends over for a meal.