Living Like A Primitive

I like B3ta's 'Question of the Week'. I rarely make it to the 'best' page, but sometimes there is interesting repartee.

Last week, the question was:

Things to do before you die. Tell us what's on your wish list, and why.

My response was:

I'd like to live like a primitive.

I'd like to live off the land for awhile. Walk around the desert, coax water out of dessicated plants, eat berries, and hunt small game.

I live like a primitive now, of course, but it's all different: empty pizza boxes scattered around, no one's cleaned the bathroom in eons, no underwear, etc.

A reader replied:

Definitely go for it mate.

Once upon a time i turned myself in, from scary London to the barren plains of south Portugal. Sleeping under the stars, eating what we either grew, foraged or caught. Building a farm in the middle of nowhere, Mad Max style, practicaly from dust and spit, with a bunch of random travellers. No city lights for dozens of miles, the rough spires of the atlantic ocean in hearing distance.

First week or so a total breakdown, urban poison screaming for its foul burbling well. Second, you will start toughening up, not be afraid of the grubby spikiness, enjoying the monkey diet. After that, the whole mind starts to shift. Relentless hard labour, overwhelming natural sights and the rhytm and texture of wild nature take effect. It is rather not happiness as we know it, the appreciation of something special and unexpected pleasing us. Much deeper. You had arrived, finally, where nothing abstract and overpowering machine rules your destiny. Well, nature does now, but then, she is you. Start walking barefoot, after a few months, get used to the sun. Find little favourite places to worship and leave subtle signs of liking them. Draw martian space maps in the sand, stickfight a dead tree, walk the valley alone for a few days. Be kind and humble with the new ones, honest and close with those you know. Tribal integrity brrap.

Or roam the land, picking up sights, words, and random little wonders as you pass. Feel the unceasing love of nature, be welcomed by strangers, see the system with no chance, nor will to interact, and the need to abuse it. Get stuck in suburbia, maybe squat an empty house, or find spaced-out hippie folks. Realize you swapped steady food and showers for the need to eat useless crap and picking up a country weeks dirt in a day. Then finally be entirely dysfunctional upon return to these orwellian techno-mobs. Have your smile crushed out of your face, claws and hair pulled out, tan sanded down, by the hasty, impersonal crowd. Maybe end up a bum for some time. Bury your absolutes once again, in a place well remembered, and grow up once again. Know it is all but a play.

Every wave you break
Every poo you take
Every tree you shake
Every she you stake
I'll be nudging you