by Joss Sheldon
My whole life was natural. My whole life was entwined with nature herself.
Nature fed me. Nature freed me. And nature kept me sane.
Please do allow me to explain…
Do you remember when I said I felt trapped at school, just before I had a sword fight with Chubby Smith? Here’s what I wrote:
‘I was stuck inside and the stifling nature of school was getting to me. I’m a bird, you see; I need to fly free. I need space and freedom… But I was being forced to sit behind a desk; held captive by four insensitive walls and enslaved by my teacher’s omnipotent authority… I just didn’t feel natural. I didn’t feel right.’
Well, that was a recurring feeling which stuck with me, like a leech on a bloody vein, all the way through my youth. It was a nagging feeling. An omnipresent thudding that refused to leave me alone.
But, dear reader, that feeling did leave me alone when I went to live in the forest.
My glade allowed me to ‘fly free’. It gave me ‘space and freedom’. It released me from the ‘four insensitive walls’ of my school and the ‘omnipotent authority’ of my superiors.
The trees which surrounded me weren’t walls. They were porous. The spaces between them were doors into a constantly changing wonderland. A wonderland that amazed me every day.
And I didn’t have a boss.
But it’d be wrong to say that I became my own boss, my own master. I didn’t boss myself. I didn’t master myself. I didn’t tell myself what to do.
I simply merged into nature.
I rose with the sun. I glided on the breeze. I inhaled time. And I exhaled space.
I embraced the silence, which was only ever interrupted by an alarm clock I couldn’t seem to locate:
‘Beep! Beep! Beep!’
The egot never returned. And I was glad of that. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need me. I lost my sense of self; that sense of identity, of individuality, which I’d craved so much as a youngster.
My little voice went quiet.
I no longer saw myself as an individual; a distinct entity set apart from the world. I saw myself as a part of a much greater whole. A drop in an ocean, inseparable from the ocean itself. A star in an infinite galaxy. United. Indivisible. One.
I was nature and nature was me.
I was a bird, an animal and an insect.
I was a dancing tree.
I was a tangled bush.
I was a starry, starry sky.
I was an infinite dome of pure azure.
But, dear reader, I wasn’t alone. No.
Nurse Betty came to visit me every few months. Occasionally, she brought me things she thought I might need. She never asked for anything in return. She was benevolent to the core.
On one occasion, she brought me a dog, ‘Cloudy’; a soppy old Labrador who’d been abused by her previous owner. Cloudy became my best friend. I cared for her as if she were my own child. She became a great outlet for my selfless urges. And, like me, she was reinvigorated by our natural surrounds.
After a few months had passed we were joined by a ginger cat. I named her ‘Betty’. I have no idea where Betty came from. She just turned up and decided to adopt us. She was welcome - we appreciated her company. We still do. She’s a strange cat. She’s happy to survive on a diet of vegetables. And she spends hours in the rain without even flinching. She looks like she’s meditating. But then I suppose that most cats are strange, when you come to think about it. I reckon they have split-personalities. They’re unsure whether to consider themselves hunters or prey; to be brazen and bold, or skittish and scared.
The birds who accompanied us weren’t so confused. They sat in the branches and sang to their hearts’ content. I joined them. So did Cloudy.
Occasionally we were visited by a hopping hare or a bouncing rabbit. We saw foxes and squirrels, badgers and snakes. We even saw a peacock.
So I had everything I wanted and more. I had food and shelter. I had companions. I had peace.
And, in creating such a life, I believe that I nurtured my inner-child.
Once more, please do allow me to explain…
I started this book by regaling you with a story in which my teacher, Ms Brown, spoke about savages:
‘A savage is like an animal’, she said. ‘He doesn’t wear clothes, live in a house, study or work. He follows his base urges; to eat, drink and reproduce… He doesn’t have any ambition… He does the least he can to survive. And he spends most of his time sleeping or playing.’
That, you may recall, really appealed to me. This is what I wrote:
‘It was as if I’d stumbled across a race of super-humans. To me, the savages sounded like gods. I knew at once that I wanted to be one. I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.’
Having learnt about the savages, I listened to the egot for the first time. I went on a rampage, believing that I myself was a savage.
Of course, I wasn’t really a savage. But what was true then, was also true when I moved to the forest. I wanted to eat and drink and sleep. I wanted to play. But I didn’t want to work. I didn’t want to be imprisoned by the shackles of futile ambition.
For years I’d forgotten about those real needs. For years I’d chased the false goals which had been imposed on me by others.
I’d grafted away in jobs I’d never really wanted, without realising how counterproductive that was. It’s like Lao Tzu says; ‘Fill your bowl to the brim and it will spill. Keep sharpening your knife and it will blunt’.
I’d sought promotions, without realising that a management position wouldn’t ever fulfil me. It’s like Lao Tzu says; ‘He who controls others may be powerful, but he who masters himself is mightier still’.
And I’d longed for a pay-rise, without realising that money wouldn’t make me wealthy. It’s like Lao Tzu says; ‘He who is contented is rich’.
Yet there I was, in my glade, living like a savage. Or rather, perhaps I should say that I was living like a ‘Natural Human-Being’. (Because ‘savage’ is such a derogatory word).
I’d nurtured my inner-child. I’d given it everything it had ever wanted; things like freedom, space and nature. And I’d released it from the things it hadn’t ever needed; things like work, ambition and greed.
I’d been a caterpillar, but I’d become a butterfly.
I’d been a seed, but I’d become a flower.
My inner-child had grown into my inner-adult. I’d become myself. My true self. I’d become one.
EPILOGUE
It’s been seven years since I first moved to the forest, and my time here has given me the opportunity to think. To judge my situation objectively. And, whilst I can’t say that I’ve come to any concrete conclusions, I do have some reflections which I’d like to share with you, dear reader, before we go our separate ways. I hope these shaggy ramblings will provide you with some food for thought…
Looking back on my first few years here it’d be correct to say that I was happy. Happier than I’d ever been before. I felt a real sort of bliss, as I hope will be apparent from the previous chapter.
That bliss was the result of two distinct factors:
The first factor was positive. I’d found a natural rhythm. I was one with nature; both independent and interconnected, whole and part of a greater whole.
The second factor was negative. I’d escaped an overbearing society, full of overpowering pressures and overblown expectations. I felt like a gargantuan weight had been lifted from my fragile shoulders.
Well, it’d still be true to say that I feel at one with nature. I still rise with the sun, live from the earth, and ebb and flow with nature’s earthly tides.
But it’d be remiss of me not to mention that the euphoria of my liberation has worn off. It’s true that I don’t feel a weight on my shoulders anymore. But I don’t feel the relief I felt when that weight was first removed. I don’t feel emancipated. I don’t feel anything much at all.
Perhaps, at this point, I should mention another Lao Tz
u proverb. (I only hope that I haven’t bored you with my obsession with that man):
‘In dwelling, live close to the ground. In thinking, keep to the simple. In conflict, be fair and generous. In governing, don’t try to control. In work, do what you enjoy. In family life, be completely present’.
Well, I certainly dwell close to the ground and I certainly keep my life simple. I enjoy my work, if you can call what I do ‘work’. I don’t have any conflicts and I’ve never governed. So I tick five of Lao Tzu’s six boxes.
But am I completely present in family life? Clearly not! I couldn’t be further removed.
My family lives in my childhood neighbourhood. I live here in this forest. There are miles between us, but there might as well be whole galaxies. To me, it feels like we live on completely different planes.
And this begs another question; ‘Can anyone be truly happy, indefinitely, whilst living in solitude?’
Perhaps some strange individuals can. But we humans are social beings. We need companionship. We need love.
I was made to choose between my society and myself. I chose myself. And I don’t regret that at all. I just wish that I’d been born into a world where that choice wasn’t necessary. I love the little society I’ve created here. I love spending time with my dog and my cat. I love seeing Nurse Betty on the rare occasions that she visits. But I do still long to live in a good human society; a society that can accept me for who I am.
I love the birdsong that serenades my every hop, skip and jump. But I do still long for the inimitable harmony of human laughter. For the warm, uninhibited sound of another person’s glee. For the snug embrace of another, the lively pitter-patter of joyous conversation, and the raucous melody that accompanies a shared meal.
I love the cosy charm of a cold night and the melancholy embrace of a clammy day. I love my connection with nature. But nature can be so unforgiving! I do sometimes crave the comforts of a well-built home. One that doesn’t get unbearably hot or cold, wet or claustrophobic. One that has a bath or a shower or a good selection of books.
Sometimes I ask myself, ‘Is this what I really want?’
And I can’t answer that question. I don’t know. I don’t know. I just don’t know.
So let’s ask another question which I can answer; ‘Have I reached enlightenment?’
The answer to this one is a firm ‘no’. I know that for sure. I might never reach enlightenment. I’m not even sure if ‘enlightenment’ exists. (Although if it does, and if I do make it, I’ll be sure to let you know).
A third question; ‘Have I had any out of body experiences, where Beethoven played and I ran free?’
Unfortunately, I’d have to say ‘no’ once more. In fact, I’m starting to question if I ever had such an experience in the first place. One’s memory can play tricks; adding a halcyon hue to past events, and suffusing everyday experiences with a magical tinge which never actually existed. Perhaps I never broke free from my body. Perhaps I was just drunk on the sweet elixir of rebellion; intoxicated by my temporary liberation and high on the discovery of a better life. I don’t know. I just don’t know. You’ll have to decide for yourself.
And now one final question before we part; ‘Am I happy?’
The answer to this one is not so clear. Maybe it’s a ‘yes’, maybe it’s a ‘no’. Who knows? I mean, what is ‘happiness’ anyway?
I’m happy a lot of the time. Sometimes I feel an extreme, all-encompassing sort of bliss. At other times I feel a more subtle sort of happiness that can last for many days. I still feel at one with nature. But I also feel detached from human society.
Sometimes I feel sad. Sometimes I feel lonely.
All I know is that I’m happier than I ever was before. I’m vibrating at my natural frequency. I feel calm. My mind is still.
And, for me, that will have to be enough. It’s the life I’m settling for. It could be better, but it could be worse. I’m doing things my way, and that feels right.
But this shouldn’t be a big revelation; some sort of profound philosophical truth. And nor should it be a lesson. I beg you, dear reader, not to follow in my footsteps. You need to walk your own path through life. You need to work out what is right for you. And no-one, not your parents, not your teachers, and certainly not me, can tell you how to do that. You, dear reader, are your own best teacher. Your own personal experiences will provide you with the best lessons you’ll ever receive.
It’s like Lao Tzu says; ‘The snow goose does not need to bathe to make itself white. Neither do you need to do anything but be yourself… At the centre of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want’.
And with those wise words, we must now bid adieu.
Goodbye dear friend!
Travel your path as best you can.
Be the person you were always meant to be
‘Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!’
The disciples said to Jesus:
“Tell us how our end will be?”
And Jesus replied:
“Have you already discovered the beginning that you are now asking about the end? For where the beginning is, there the end will be too.
“Blessed is he who will stand at the beginning. He will know the end. And he will not taste death.”
THE GOSPEL OF THOMAS
(Verse Fourteen)
ALSO BY JOSS SHELDON…
OCCUPIED
“A unique piece of literary fiction” - The Examiner
“Darker than George Orwell’s 1984” - AXS
“Candid and disquieting” - Free Tibet
“Genre-busting” - Pak Asia Times
“A must read” - Buzzfeed
SOME PEOPLE LIVE UNDER OCCUPATION.
SOME PEOPLE OCCUPY THEMSELVES.
NO ONE IS FREE.
Step into a world which is both magically fictitious and shockingly real, to follow the lives of Tamsin, Ellie, Arun and Charlie; a refugee, native, occupier and economic migrant. Watch them grow up during a halcyon past, everyday present and dystopian future. And be prepared to be amazed.
Inspired by the occupations of Palestine, Kurdistan and Tibet, and by the corporate occupation of the west, ‘Occupied’ is a haunting glance into a society which is a little too familiar for comfort. It truly is a unique piece of literary fiction…
ALSO BY JOSS SHELDON…
INVOLUTION & EVOLUTION
A RHYMING ANTI-WAR NOVEL
“Flows magnificently across the pages”
“Great, thrilling and enlightening”
“Quick paced and rhythmic”
This is the story of Alfred Freeman, a boy who does everything he can; to serve humankind. He feeds five-thousand youths, salves-saves-and-soothes; and champions the maligned. He helps paralytics to feel fine, turns water into wine; and gives sight to the blind.
When World War One draws near, his nation is plunged into fear; and so Alfred makes a stand. He opposes the war and calls for peace, disobeys the police; and speaks out across the land. He makes speeches, and he preaches; using statements which sound grand.
But the authorities hit back, and launch a potent-attack; which is full of disgust-derision-and-disdain. Alfred is threatened with execution, and suffers from persecution; which leaves him writhing in pain. He struggles to survive, remain alive; keep cool and stay sane.
‘Involution & Evolution’ is a masterpiece of rhyme, with a message which echoes through time; and will get inside your head. With colourful-characters and poetic-flair, it is a scathing critique of modern-warfare; and all its gory-bloodshed. It’s a novel which breaks new ground, is sure to astound; and really must be read.
www.joss-sheldon.com
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Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY ONE
TWENTY TWO
TWENTY THREE
TWENTY FOUR
TWENTY FIVE
TWENTY SIX
TWENTY SEVEN
TWENTY EIGHT
TWENTY NINE
THIRTY
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY ONE
TWENTY TWO
TWENTY THREE
TWENTY FOUR
TWENTY FIVE
TWENTY SIX
TWENTY SEVEN
TWENTY EIGHT
TWENTY NINE
THIRTY