I'm writing to you from a little green canoe in a tiny lake in the Northwoods, surrounded by dragonflies and bog. This is my second moon here as part of a year long wilderness immersion program sponsored by the Teaching Drum Outdoor School.
Here we live in the woods, learn primitive skills and use them daily, practice open and honest emotional communication (called truthspeaking), delve deeply into our true selves, and learn how to live well together as a community, or circle.
There are seventeen of us here, ranging in ages from 11 to 39. We're an eclectic group of individuals from all over the world, with differing interests, backgrounds, morality, and points of view. There's an ex-lumberjack/navyman/woodsman, a dancer/bodyworker/mother, an actress from Yale, a singer, an activist, a traveler, a teacher/puppeteer, a lesbian/factoryworker, a computer hacker, an herbalist. This diversity gives us a tremendous advantage out here, because we all have different experiences living in the forest, different skill levels. And all have things to share and teach the rest. As well, our differences make for conflicts and disagreements. What has come up lately is what I think is the most important question anyone living with others should ponder: how do you balance an individuals needs and desires with those of the group?
Having lived in a community for the past two years, I'm familiar with this question and I see examples of how to solve it everywhere, in every community and culture. They all seem to have varying degrees of success, depending on how realistically they consider human nature. Here in the U.S., there is a collective decision that an individual must look out for himself, and that anyone who does otherwise is a saint or a fool or both, because no one else is going to. We've decided that a group, community, and the world are not important when they interfere with an individual's right to pursue happiness. However, this ethic leads to a world of people who do not consider their children, neighbors, plant and animal brethren, and the greater spiral of life when they make decisions. Hence the slew of problems in our culture: social, economic, environmental, spiritual. We are impoverishing our grandchildren to satisfy our desperate longings for love and respect, that we think will come with the next doodad we buy, or trip we take. We also diminish our ability to make a true difference in the world, by living solely for ourselves. This pattern is easy to see, and difficult to break. I suspect if you're reading this, you may already have similar sentiments, and my object here is not to rant about what's wrong with the world, but to look at what works.
In my own life, I'm often afraid that if I don't make sure that my needs are met, they will not be, and I will suffer accordingly. This of course is not a decision that I've made alone, but one which has been reinforced all of my life, in various ways, by ny parents, teachers, peers, tv, etc. Since we all just take care of ourselves, we have little energy left for others, and do not trust one another.
Indigenous cultures and fully functional communities everywhere are great examples that both an individual's needs and that of the group are equally important, and are not mutually exclusive, but all-inclusive. When someone acts in a way to contribute to the group's well-being, all benefit. When an individual takes care of her needs in concert with her people, she has the extra energy necessary to be giving to others.
One real concern with the people from our culture is knowing what is an actual need, and not just an overactive Ego trying to keep itself distracted and satisfied. We are all so accustomed to having any whim satisfied, being able to discern the difference is almost impossible. Being out here, with our very simple diet (a small portion of venison, 3 eggs, a handful of nuts, 3 pieces of fruit, and wild greens daily), lack of books, music, movies, travel except by foot or canoe, gossip, and for most of us, love lives, leaves very little to keep us from being still and quiet. And there is nothing more scary to our Ego than this quiet. So we decide we need something, whether we truly do or not. Maybe it's more food, or something to read, or a trip into town. Anything to keep our mind busy and working, and in control.
I'm discovering here that every decision I make affects everyone and everything. If I decide that I want one of my friends to bring me treats, like chocolate, (or anything that is not a part of our simple diet), when they visit, the presence of food not normally available can cause any number of different reactions and emotions in my circle. Maybe someone will ask me for some, someone might get jealous, another person might feel angry with me, and it might aggravate someone else's addiction disease (there are several former alcoholics, two people with bulemia, and we all have food addictions, to varying degrees). This whole interaction can create a kicked up hornet's nest in our community, and be much more trouble than my treat was worth. This kind of obvious action/reaction sequence is hard to ignore, and encourages me to consider whether what I think are my needs are actually needs and not just wants and cravings. So I end up growing, by considering others in my decisions, and not catering to the whimsy of my emotionally starved self. I think of my friend who has bulemia, and how she will feel when faced with watching me stuff my face with extra food. And by not going directly for the objects of my fantasy, I go to places where my hunger for real connection will be met: for a walk in the woods, for a hug from my clanmates, for a swim in the lake as the sun is fingering it's way above the far shore. I find that I appreciate far more what I have, and crave less what has no real substance.
This kind of interaction has been quite painful to my Ego, which insists that I not give up my treats just because of someone else and their "issues". As I live here longer, I see the trap in that kind of thinking, because I see how other's actions affect me when they think only of their desires. Then I'm the one who hurts.
And when someone works on the group's behalf, say gathering firewood and food, scattering our fire ashes in the woods, building a lean-to to shelter us from the rain, or making a meal for everyone, then we all share in very concrete rewards.
Lately we've been all working together on a large building project: repairing an earthlodge that we use as a sweatlodge. We continually meet, talk, and share emotions concerning the work and about our lives. Again, what often arises is how to take care of ourselves and still contribute to the project. Every day we work, there is someone who is sick, or tired, or just wants to be alone. What has worked for us is to make sure that those necessary physical, emotional, and spiritual needs are accomodated, so that those who work are those who want to be working. It is so much more relaxing and fun to work in this manner, rather than to drag someone along who is not capable of enjoying it. We end up playing, not working.
I'm beginning to see that just as every one of us has their own spirit and life force, so does every group. Take any one person away, or add anyone, and the entire feel of the group changes. And because every group has it's own consciousness, it is challenging to harness the energy of it to work together and be a community or tribe, especially when we have not lived this way since birth. Our culture solves it by electing leaders, having bosses, hiring teachers. What happens when you don't have a leader? Well that's another thing that I'm learning. You become self-motivated, because you have to or you don't eat, or have fire to cook, or a lodge to stay in out of hard weather. And you think of others, because you have to, and they think of you.
As Tamarack Song, our guide on this year-long trek, says "Giving is receiving." And I begin to see the truth in that more clearly every day.