Have you ever thought you were going to die 5 times in half an hour? I thought this deserved a little entry.
In other news have you ever thought you would involuntarily (of course) defecate in your pants 5 times in half an hour?
...
Now in other news I arrived after a short bus rid and a ferry crossing, in Ancud, Isla de Chiloé northern Patagonia. The hostel is right on the beach that curves around the bay, spotted with paintcrusted fishing boats. Its full of windows and wood and is a beautiful set up. I however, was getting quite cabinfeverish so I thought I would go for a run, up into the steep hills that rise up behind the colourful metal shacks speckling the steep unpaved grid of streets. My heart rate stayed well above 140 even for the extended periods of statueness though. I discovered, much to my chagrin, that most people in this town have some sort of un-neutered combination of terrier, german shepard, doberban... unleashed, untrained and naturally, given the size of its testicles, fairly territorial.
The first dog ran out at me barking like a banshee. I froze, and avoided eyecontact completely...the dog stood about 10 feet away and continued to bark viscously. I made a movement, ever so slight, ever so slow, to back away. Mistake. The massive german shepard took five paces toward me and continued to bark ferociously. I waited what felt like hours although it was probably no more than 5 minutes, until I tried again to melt out of my petrified cowering position. This time I was able to pick up a rock - security of mind rather than of body, as I was to find out.
I finally made it into the hills behind the city and circled around the back until I reached another dirt road. There I startled another dog, this one a white terrier sort of dog with a slit eye (battle wounds) After it got within about 15 feet of me I played the same game of don´t look, don´t move, don´t breathe even though your heart rate monitor says 125 (and you´ve been standing still for 3 minutes - yes abnormal!)
After the second encounter I ran more slowly (which is another psychological tool for my own peace of mind) and I came to the realization, when 5 dogs looked like they would rip me apart but for a godly fence that separated us, that my rock that I had kept from the first near-washroom experience would be futile in a battle with 5 hungry, territorial, un-neutered dogs!!!
The key of course, to the fact that I am writing this blog with no injuries is my focus in maintaining steady breathing and not becoming afraid. I feel that the crazy dogs can sense that you are afraid. So if you simply calm your breathing, look straight ahead, clear all the blood, and ambulance and statistic filled visions from your cloudy brain and live in the moment - stand, listen to the wind, feel the presence not of a threatening animal, but of a threatened animal, and be patient. Things, so far, knock on wood, have worked out!
Thats my dog story, there is a lot more to tell about the past few days, but I will save that for later.
thats it from here!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Verses from the hills
A song from the green
Here, the fog blows clouds into the workers eyes
Blows rain in shafts into the pink blossoms and the
Thorns, fragile leaves, flowers
From the timber and mud.
You stand to see the sun pierce
Through the white grey blanket
And the steel roof is drilled with drops.
Fury,
But from its edges a soft dripping of calm drops
And the tired trees bend away from the onset.
Thats not thunder, thats paper, leaves, branches,
Wind in the endless fenceposts
That mark the rows of green on black.
Bare timber!
Bare timber!
Stray cow! Roaming about the roller coaster
Green; markings on a mountain,
One behind the other
Side by side, sculped by the invisible wind.
The fire heart
I am the earthy heart of these embers
Dripping red into the fury of flames;
I am these dying fibers falling quiet
Into the rage of life;
I was there, in the endless winter rains
Soaking into deep green and putrid rot;
I flew with the bees, the birds, drinking pollen
And the many fiery rays of summer struck me into fibers
Of the many, the sometimes fallen
Tree fog sillouettes on the moving shroud.
Down here in the burn I am changing;
Down here in the burn I am heating up
But falling apart, my earthy heart gives
Its life to the licking colours, single lines,
Disintegration, layer by layer, my body melts
Into the inferno; my soul
Grows, jumping up, reaching for the man made paradise,
But no, Alas!
I have walked, I have stayed, only bending
Long enough to know my flames are futile
They won´t reach the cerulean stratosphere to rain
Down again - ...or maybe...
Smokey wings rise, a shadow of red
Up until you won´t see me anymore,
Up to "invisible heights"
Meet with the birds, speak with the
Earthly things that never touch down here
- so remnants may rain down in the end
But we won´t know, just life
Here, the fog blows clouds into the workers eyes
Blows rain in shafts into the pink blossoms and the
Thorns, fragile leaves, flowers
From the timber and mud.
You stand to see the sun pierce
Through the white grey blanket
And the steel roof is drilled with drops.
Fury,
But from its edges a soft dripping of calm drops
And the tired trees bend away from the onset.
Thats not thunder, thats paper, leaves, branches,
Wind in the endless fenceposts
That mark the rows of green on black.
Bare timber!
Bare timber!
Stray cow! Roaming about the roller coaster
Green; markings on a mountain,
One behind the other
Side by side, sculped by the invisible wind.
The fire heart
I am the earthy heart of these embers
Dripping red into the fury of flames;
I am these dying fibers falling quiet
Into the rage of life;
I was there, in the endless winter rains
Soaking into deep green and putrid rot;
I flew with the bees, the birds, drinking pollen
And the many fiery rays of summer struck me into fibers
Of the many, the sometimes fallen
Tree fog sillouettes on the moving shroud.
Down here in the burn I am changing;
Down here in the burn I am heating up
But falling apart, my earthy heart gives
Its life to the licking colours, single lines,
Disintegration, layer by layer, my body melts
Into the inferno; my soul
Grows, jumping up, reaching for the man made paradise,
But no, Alas!
I have walked, I have stayed, only bending
Long enough to know my flames are futile
They won´t reach the cerulean stratosphere to rain
Down again - ...or maybe...
Smokey wings rise, a shadow of red
Up until you won´t see me anymore,
Up to "invisible heights"
Meet with the birds, speak with the
Earthly things that never touch down here
- so remnants may rain down in the end
But we won´t know, just life
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Animal Farm: We are all human
This farm; this community was born seven years ago to two parents: social justice an sustainable community. The children of these were socially concious human beings searching, in their idealism, a better world, a world that came from and returned to its natural home; the planet. A world that respected the rights of indigenous people, their land, way of life, community and resources. These children, this hybrid community saw and sees itself as guardians of the earth on which they live, as well as of their adopted way of life.
In my days here I have heard much of the theory of this place: a communal space for all and anyone. A place where we respect, communicate and protect both the earth and eachother. Capitalism and neoliberalism and fascism (yes, we are talking about a backlash to Piinochet) have all perverted what should be the true relationship between humans and the earth and a true appreciation of existance (this, it has been stressed, includes the acceptance embrace of the reality that is death).
Inevitably though, this idea of "community" requires the existence of people, the children of a marriage of ideologies. And of course it requires their interaction. Without naming names I should like to say, or rather it pains me to admit, that when all these people come together supposedly for a common cause, some insist on seizing the spotlight while others don´t mind working backstage like dogs. Some refuse to work and live in a fantasy world where they talk about ideas but never light the fire in the morning, let alone gather wood. Some complain, some insist on being right every moment and clam up if called out... In short, a battle of egos in a place where we should least expect it! Indeed when the man who won´t work leaves, everyone laughs at his expense and the tourists who come on new years are not allowed to participate in our new years lamb roast, and when they do are resented by some people...
Don´t get me wrong, one on one these people are fantastic, they have it figured out: politically, ecologically, environmentally, socially. Some are social activists with an interest in politics, society and the environment while others are intellectuals (anthropologists, sociologists...) who have become involved in a movement they believe in. At times we sat around the fire and read poetry by Nicanor Parra and Pablo Neruda. My friend Eric (one of the founders of Trafkura) stood up (it was just he and I in the dark Ruka, rain poured on the tin roof and the warm fire kept us sain inside the mud/wood walls) and recited a poem which I thought was beautiful...I thought he had written it but it turns out it was written by Neruda the Nobel Laureate!!!
All these problems that I have just ennumerated I should like to point out revolve around my own conception. In other words, in a community setting like this I am well aware that I cannot leave myself out of the equation. I am just as guilty for working hard and not complaining and keeping my misgivings about people´s actions to myself.
Unfortunately I have reached another conclusion which does not surprise me, which I think I knew all along anyway. And that is that the collapse of great ideas, or the weakness of ideological structures is not the thought or structure of its fruit but the flaws of its creators, its builders, thinkers; in short it is the folly of the human being itself rather than his/her ideas. The structure collapses not because of the weakness of the beams or the poor building, but because we maltreat it, play with fire and never fix the leaks, until one day our community and our ideologies burst into flames or drown in the inundation of their own egos!
Change of topic...
The day after New Years we all went up to Icalma, a small town on a lake in the mountains (about 40km of dirt road from the nearest paved road). We met with a Mapuche (Mapu means of the land, che means people) family on the lake. The pace is different, we shared another fire lamb roast with them (when they have, they share) and we rather controversially kicked some people off the beach (they had outboard motors - the argument according to almost all should have been that the motors damage the environment - the air the water the soundwaves... - but somebody started off with "this is a private beach" and that incited some hard feelings on the Mapuche side because they felt that this was not the right way to approach the problem. Indeed this was not a private beach and that is exactly what they are fighting - they see themselves as guardians of the land not owners, they don´t want to own just live in peace.) Unfortunately, despite these people´s apparent close connection with nature and their own spirituality they drink excessively.
Finally, we went for a drive and along the way we stopped off at some relatives of some of the Mapuche folks. We were greeted with kisses, hugs, "sit down please, have a beer...". And while we were supposed to be back by 2pm we did not get back until well after 2:30. Gaston (the Mapuche who was with us) looked absolutely relaxed and kept chatting and hugging and kissing his family members while some of us stood their trying to be patient. I was told though, that this is absolutely normal!
Anyway turns out everyone was leaving Trafkura yesterday: Gonzalo and Carola and their kids Isadora and Emilio, Kate, Ricardo, Francisco and Francisca, Eric, Ivan and Metina. I had planned to go anyway so I got a ride with Ivan and Metina into Temuco and from their I took a bus to Puerto Varas. I arrived in the pouring rain at 11pm at this quirky french-run hostel and I am now relaxing and waiting for my farm clothes to be washed and dried.
anyway thats all from here
until next time!
In my days here I have heard much of the theory of this place: a communal space for all and anyone. A place where we respect, communicate and protect both the earth and eachother. Capitalism and neoliberalism and fascism (yes, we are talking about a backlash to Piinochet) have all perverted what should be the true relationship between humans and the earth and a true appreciation of existance (this, it has been stressed, includes the acceptance embrace of the reality that is death).
Inevitably though, this idea of "community" requires the existence of people, the children of a marriage of ideologies. And of course it requires their interaction. Without naming names I should like to say, or rather it pains me to admit, that when all these people come together supposedly for a common cause, some insist on seizing the spotlight while others don´t mind working backstage like dogs. Some refuse to work and live in a fantasy world where they talk about ideas but never light the fire in the morning, let alone gather wood. Some complain, some insist on being right every moment and clam up if called out... In short, a battle of egos in a place where we should least expect it! Indeed when the man who won´t work leaves, everyone laughs at his expense and the tourists who come on new years are not allowed to participate in our new years lamb roast, and when they do are resented by some people...
Don´t get me wrong, one on one these people are fantastic, they have it figured out: politically, ecologically, environmentally, socially. Some are social activists with an interest in politics, society and the environment while others are intellectuals (anthropologists, sociologists...) who have become involved in a movement they believe in. At times we sat around the fire and read poetry by Nicanor Parra and Pablo Neruda. My friend Eric (one of the founders of Trafkura) stood up (it was just he and I in the dark Ruka, rain poured on the tin roof and the warm fire kept us sain inside the mud/wood walls) and recited a poem which I thought was beautiful...I thought he had written it but it turns out it was written by Neruda the Nobel Laureate!!!
All these problems that I have just ennumerated I should like to point out revolve around my own conception. In other words, in a community setting like this I am well aware that I cannot leave myself out of the equation. I am just as guilty for working hard and not complaining and keeping my misgivings about people´s actions to myself.
Unfortunately I have reached another conclusion which does not surprise me, which I think I knew all along anyway. And that is that the collapse of great ideas, or the weakness of ideological structures is not the thought or structure of its fruit but the flaws of its creators, its builders, thinkers; in short it is the folly of the human being itself rather than his/her ideas. The structure collapses not because of the weakness of the beams or the poor building, but because we maltreat it, play with fire and never fix the leaks, until one day our community and our ideologies burst into flames or drown in the inundation of their own egos!
Change of topic...
The day after New Years we all went up to Icalma, a small town on a lake in the mountains (about 40km of dirt road from the nearest paved road). We met with a Mapuche (Mapu means of the land, che means people) family on the lake. The pace is different, we shared another fire lamb roast with them (when they have, they share) and we rather controversially kicked some people off the beach (they had outboard motors - the argument according to almost all should have been that the motors damage the environment - the air the water the soundwaves... - but somebody started off with "this is a private beach" and that incited some hard feelings on the Mapuche side because they felt that this was not the right way to approach the problem. Indeed this was not a private beach and that is exactly what they are fighting - they see themselves as guardians of the land not owners, they don´t want to own just live in peace.) Unfortunately, despite these people´s apparent close connection with nature and their own spirituality they drink excessively.
Finally, we went for a drive and along the way we stopped off at some relatives of some of the Mapuche folks. We were greeted with kisses, hugs, "sit down please, have a beer...". And while we were supposed to be back by 2pm we did not get back until well after 2:30. Gaston (the Mapuche who was with us) looked absolutely relaxed and kept chatting and hugging and kissing his family members while some of us stood their trying to be patient. I was told though, that this is absolutely normal!
Anyway turns out everyone was leaving Trafkura yesterday: Gonzalo and Carola and their kids Isadora and Emilio, Kate, Ricardo, Francisco and Francisca, Eric, Ivan and Metina. I had planned to go anyway so I got a ride with Ivan and Metina into Temuco and from their I took a bus to Puerto Varas. I arrived in the pouring rain at 11pm at this quirky french-run hostel and I am now relaxing and waiting for my farm clothes to be washed and dried.
anyway thats all from here
until next time!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
No turkey for me thanks, I´ll just sit by the fire...
This is the story of a lonely Christmas Eve, and Christmas day, in the mountains. I Left Pucon, a tourist hub, if you´ve been reading, a facade of chincy (sp.?) touristy outfits and expensive tours of things that make you feel hardcore, and bad coffee.
I hitched a ride to Temuco about a hundret km north with some mountain guides who, (small world) were good friends with my one contact in Pucon (a friend of a friend). I guess the world of alpine climbing is small. After another bus ride a wait in the rain and some more hitchhiking (a bit sketchy one of them) and a half hour trek up the mountain in the rain to arrive at a Ruka cabin, a small wood and mud cabin perched on the edge of a mountainside - river, wind, trees, cows... no electricity, no phone... just fields, trees and abundant firewood. I spent christmas eve day working in the field and then the two guys who live in the community (they are activists and have this commune where they share everything, grow their own stuff and accept volunteers, as well as rugged conscientious tourists). Suddenly they asked me what day it was, I told them the 24th and so they said they had an important meeting in Melipeuco, the nearest town. So we cooked up a big lunch on the ruka fire and then went out back and drank mate and talked about all sorts of things, then they left. I worked a bit longer in the fields, made myself a nice christmas eve dinner of cabbage, onion, garlic aji (a local hot pepper) oil and lemon salad on fire baked flour tortillas that I made. Then I broke out my stash of chocolate!!
The next day, christmas, I took my time preparing breakfast and after a cup of warm milk went to work in the fields until about 2...etc.
They told me they would be back by 12 on Christmas day. Today, the 26th, at 12 they were still not here, so, worried, lonely and clostrophobic, I packed my bags and started the long trek into town to find out what was going on, and if not, to leave. The first ride I got I thought I´d take - a big lumber truck driven by two old guys. I threw my stuff in the back with the lumber and jumped in - they locked the steel gated door behind me and we made our way into town. I got out, dusty, onto the main street and the first person I saw was Eric, one of the two guys from the community- having no phone there was no way they could contact me to tell me they would be coming two days later. We were going to go up tonight but instead we´ll go tomorrow morning as there is no bus and we don´t fancy hitchhiking...
Thats my brief, poorly told, christmas story!!
I must say though, today as the rain drove down and the clouds blew by like spectres until I couldn´t see anything, it was beautiful, but I had not prepared for so much solitude - I think its easier to confront when you mentally and emotionallly prepare for it. but as I was expecting company (and these guys are great!) I was extremely lonelyand thought a lot about my family, my friends, and really, how lucky I am to have such fantastic people in my life!!! Sounds cheesy I know, but its what I was thinking. Anyway im going back to the Trafkura house (the little hostel these guys have in town) to relax. The next days will bring lots of hard work, good chat, and great food. I hope to help out building the second Ruka house and the composting toilet (of which there are already 2 - very cool!! look it up).
I just remembered a whole bunch more stuff! I met a woman in Pucon my final night that has walked from California to Santiago Chile promoting sustainable living and the cesation of petroleum consumption!!! WOW - later I´ll post her link but i don´t have it with me.
anyway this has been the worst post by far but i had so much to say, so little time and I´m on a bit of a high, unfocussed...etc.
Thats all for now, the next post will a) be more coherent and b)be of a higher quality as it seems I have developed a reputation that I am currently not living up to!!!
I hitched a ride to Temuco about a hundret km north with some mountain guides who, (small world) were good friends with my one contact in Pucon (a friend of a friend). I guess the world of alpine climbing is small. After another bus ride a wait in the rain and some more hitchhiking (a bit sketchy one of them) and a half hour trek up the mountain in the rain to arrive at a Ruka cabin, a small wood and mud cabin perched on the edge of a mountainside - river, wind, trees, cows... no electricity, no phone... just fields, trees and abundant firewood. I spent christmas eve day working in the field and then the two guys who live in the community (they are activists and have this commune where they share everything, grow their own stuff and accept volunteers, as well as rugged conscientious tourists). Suddenly they asked me what day it was, I told them the 24th and so they said they had an important meeting in Melipeuco, the nearest town. So we cooked up a big lunch on the ruka fire and then went out back and drank mate and talked about all sorts of things, then they left. I worked a bit longer in the fields, made myself a nice christmas eve dinner of cabbage, onion, garlic aji (a local hot pepper) oil and lemon salad on fire baked flour tortillas that I made. Then I broke out my stash of chocolate!!
The next day, christmas, I took my time preparing breakfast and after a cup of warm milk went to work in the fields until about 2...etc.
They told me they would be back by 12 on Christmas day. Today, the 26th, at 12 they were still not here, so, worried, lonely and clostrophobic, I packed my bags and started the long trek into town to find out what was going on, and if not, to leave. The first ride I got I thought I´d take - a big lumber truck driven by two old guys. I threw my stuff in the back with the lumber and jumped in - they locked the steel gated door behind me and we made our way into town. I got out, dusty, onto the main street and the first person I saw was Eric, one of the two guys from the community- having no phone there was no way they could contact me to tell me they would be coming two days later. We were going to go up tonight but instead we´ll go tomorrow morning as there is no bus and we don´t fancy hitchhiking...
Thats my brief, poorly told, christmas story!!
I must say though, today as the rain drove down and the clouds blew by like spectres until I couldn´t see anything, it was beautiful, but I had not prepared for so much solitude - I think its easier to confront when you mentally and emotionallly prepare for it. but as I was expecting company (and these guys are great!) I was extremely lonelyand thought a lot about my family, my friends, and really, how lucky I am to have such fantastic people in my life!!! Sounds cheesy I know, but its what I was thinking. Anyway im going back to the Trafkura house (the little hostel these guys have in town) to relax. The next days will bring lots of hard work, good chat, and great food. I hope to help out building the second Ruka house and the composting toilet (of which there are already 2 - very cool!! look it up).
I just remembered a whole bunch more stuff! I met a woman in Pucon my final night that has walked from California to Santiago Chile promoting sustainable living and the cesation of petroleum consumption!!! WOW - later I´ll post her link but i don´t have it with me.
anyway this has been the worst post by far but i had so much to say, so little time and I´m on a bit of a high, unfocussed...etc.
Thats all for now, the next post will a) be more coherent and b)be of a higher quality as it seems I have developed a reputation that I am currently not living up to!!!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde, or the opposing realities of the western "traveller"
I sat down this afternoon in the only cafe in Pucón that makes a decent espresso, I got my pen and leatherbound notebook out and began to write - this is, with only a few minor modifications, what I wrote down.
In the past 5 to 7 years of my life I have become increasingly aware of what I believe to be the intrinsically schizophrenic nature of human beings, the double personality. Or perhaps of my own conscience. Yes, the divide exists within me and I am about to project it, by way of this page, (or screen if you will) onto the rest of humanity.
This schism I have realized, - after much thought, much distillation and separation of ideas, causes, effects, side effects and so on - revolves primarily around the existence of two separate human consciousness´(if thats a word). It belongs in the dual realization that I am me and I will exist for a short time on this planet - I am unique; and conversely that I am merely a small peice of the infinite puzzle that is life and existance. I am only a piece and as such play an important role ie. I have distinct moral and ethical responsibilities and duties.
To bring this back to earth a bit I shall explain how this manifests itself and has manifested itself in my thoughts over the years and most strongly in the time leading up to my trip here.
Travelling is, on the one hand a way of realizing growth (spiritual, mental, cultural), of learning, of enjoying - it should be the definition of the pursuit of all these things and many more, related to human growth. This sort of growth is important for me and indeed for anybody who wants to develop as a human being.
However on the other hand I/everyone has a responsibility to eachother and to the planet and I find myself asking if this pursuit of "happiness", "good", "growth", and "knowledge" is either sustainable or responsible in relation to the rest of the human population as well as plants, animals and the bzillions of systems and ecosystems of the planet. In the endI have decided that it is not sustainable or necesarily good in a utilitarian sense... I have also, predictably and selfishly, put myself before all else and continued in this ignoble pursuit anyway.
However, with some notable alterations to my actions and attitudes, in order to mitigate, at least mildly, the consequences of my actions. (or perhaps better said, to create the illusion, like catholic confession, of "absolving" myself of guilt). Instead of listing these changes, I shall describe the sort of "traveller" or "tourist" that makes me question the purported advantages and possibilities of spiritual/mental/emotional growth of my own endeavours.
Another negative factor remains that, while it is magnified even further here in Pucon, I feel that the majority of "tourists" or "travellers" are like this:
They leave their country looking to relax; not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. They come, as all the promotional posters say, to disconnect from their stressful lives and enjoy relaxing, flawless and stress-free "travel". The problem with this is that all of the burden and responsibility has to fall on somebody and the native populations of the "visited" countries have the misfortune of being recipient to this onslaught of ignorant post-modern epicureanists. The tourist unloads the responsibility of communication, cultural understanding and action upon the resident population. (Sure there is an industry involved here that profits from these people but that does not detract from the moral argument). Even in long stays this tourist does not bother to learn the language, which, while not everything, is extremely important. Indeed, comprehension of a language is absolutely essencial in the understanding of another culture as it sheds light on religion, culture, spirituality (as distinct from dogmatic religion), superstition, customs, culinary habits, cultural attitudes (as they relate to both human society and to our relationship with the earth).
It seems that all the concepts we had mentioned above like education, spiritual and cultural growth, knowledge, personal growth - they all fall away leaving one single goal - naked and unaccompanied this single goal is indicative of the ignorant and selfish culture in which we have grown and shows a complete disregard for the interconnectedness of humankind - everything is me, me, me! This single goal is pleasure! And travelling becomes a list: this is why people can rush around an entire continent in 2 months and say that they "did" South America.
With all else stripped away, this pursuit is not only destructive to the "visited" but is in its hollow form, destructive and sapping to the "visiter"- in effect they gleen a mere fraction of what they could from their spacial and temporal experiences. (they are not experiencing or living fully). This, I have to say, is an insular, selfish and ignorant attitude towar travel which cuts off the arteries that feed , to use a tired metaphor, the growth of the heart. (These last words sound judgemental but I promise that they are not, they are observational!)
Instead of feeling selfrighteous about the way in which I choose to travel, every time I see tourists like the above mentioned, I question and evaluate my own motives, actions, and form of travel. It is not that I must like or enjoy or love everything that happens or everything that I see, rather that I must live it, bad good beautiful sad sorry pleasing... etc. They are all bumps in the road!
That was heavy and long!!!
but thats all for now!!!
In the past 5 to 7 years of my life I have become increasingly aware of what I believe to be the intrinsically schizophrenic nature of human beings, the double personality. Or perhaps of my own conscience. Yes, the divide exists within me and I am about to project it, by way of this page, (or screen if you will) onto the rest of humanity.
This schism I have realized, - after much thought, much distillation and separation of ideas, causes, effects, side effects and so on - revolves primarily around the existence of two separate human consciousness´(if thats a word). It belongs in the dual realization that I am me and I will exist for a short time on this planet - I am unique; and conversely that I am merely a small peice of the infinite puzzle that is life and existance. I am only a piece and as such play an important role ie. I have distinct moral and ethical responsibilities and duties.
To bring this back to earth a bit I shall explain how this manifests itself and has manifested itself in my thoughts over the years and most strongly in the time leading up to my trip here.
Travelling is, on the one hand a way of realizing growth (spiritual, mental, cultural), of learning, of enjoying - it should be the definition of the pursuit of all these things and many more, related to human growth. This sort of growth is important for me and indeed for anybody who wants to develop as a human being.
However on the other hand I/everyone has a responsibility to eachother and to the planet and I find myself asking if this pursuit of "happiness", "good", "growth", and "knowledge" is either sustainable or responsible in relation to the rest of the human population as well as plants, animals and the bzillions of systems and ecosystems of the planet. In the endI have decided that it is not sustainable or necesarily good in a utilitarian sense... I have also, predictably and selfishly, put myself before all else and continued in this ignoble pursuit anyway.
However, with some notable alterations to my actions and attitudes, in order to mitigate, at least mildly, the consequences of my actions. (or perhaps better said, to create the illusion, like catholic confession, of "absolving" myself of guilt). Instead of listing these changes, I shall describe the sort of "traveller" or "tourist" that makes me question the purported advantages and possibilities of spiritual/mental/emotional growth of my own endeavours.
Another negative factor remains that, while it is magnified even further here in Pucon, I feel that the majority of "tourists" or "travellers" are like this:
They leave their country looking to relax; not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. They come, as all the promotional posters say, to disconnect from their stressful lives and enjoy relaxing, flawless and stress-free "travel". The problem with this is that all of the burden and responsibility has to fall on somebody and the native populations of the "visited" countries have the misfortune of being recipient to this onslaught of ignorant post-modern epicureanists. The tourist unloads the responsibility of communication, cultural understanding and action upon the resident population. (Sure there is an industry involved here that profits from these people but that does not detract from the moral argument). Even in long stays this tourist does not bother to learn the language, which, while not everything, is extremely important. Indeed, comprehension of a language is absolutely essencial in the understanding of another culture as it sheds light on religion, culture, spirituality (as distinct from dogmatic religion), superstition, customs, culinary habits, cultural attitudes (as they relate to both human society and to our relationship with the earth).
It seems that all the concepts we had mentioned above like education, spiritual and cultural growth, knowledge, personal growth - they all fall away leaving one single goal - naked and unaccompanied this single goal is indicative of the ignorant and selfish culture in which we have grown and shows a complete disregard for the interconnectedness of humankind - everything is me, me, me! This single goal is pleasure! And travelling becomes a list: this is why people can rush around an entire continent in 2 months and say that they "did" South America.
With all else stripped away, this pursuit is not only destructive to the "visited" but is in its hollow form, destructive and sapping to the "visiter"- in effect they gleen a mere fraction of what they could from their spacial and temporal experiences. (they are not experiencing or living fully). This, I have to say, is an insular, selfish and ignorant attitude towar travel which cuts off the arteries that feed , to use a tired metaphor, the growth of the heart. (These last words sound judgemental but I promise that they are not, they are observational!)
Instead of feeling selfrighteous about the way in which I choose to travel, every time I see tourists like the above mentioned, I question and evaluate my own motives, actions, and form of travel. It is not that I must like or enjoy or love everything that happens or everything that I see, rather that I must live it, bad good beautiful sad sorry pleasing... etc. They are all bumps in the road!
That was heavy and long!!!
but thats all for now!!!
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