This vision is an ideal and actually independent of a specific geographic location and destination. In the thriving world of networked people and communities it is “just another idea” of inspiring a way of life that eventually helps us to resolve our most pressing problems. It’s a dream, too – dying to come true. The first step can only be taken in one’s own world, wherever this may be located, no matter how miserable the present situation may appear to be.
“Being, Knowing, Doing” is wisdom, applied in Chinese Martial Arts – Be yourself, know yourself and do it yourself – with intention and resolve it will lead of its own accord to the next step. The first step is the most important…..
The almost inexhaustible flow of information in the world-wide-web invites to draw knowledge and wisdom, inspired by the observation of nature and human cultural experience. Being fully aware that “we are part of the whole” it does not seem to be far-fetched that we may become “wholly ourselves” as we try to unfold as much of the human potential as possible.
Our true nature, as some believe, is nature becoming conscious of itself. To know ourselves, we have to be ourselves… Albert Einstein ( > engl. OneStone ) may have found the philosophers stone, when he said, that “…. limited in space and time, man is a part of the whole, which we call cosmos. He is aware of himself with thoughts and emotions as separate from all other things – it almost appears to be an optical illusion of consciousness. This illusion can be compared to to a prison that limits us to that which we like , and to a kind of caring only for the very few we love. Our aim should be to free ourselves from that prison by expanding the horizon of our compassion until it encompasses all living beings and all of nature in its beauty.”
When it comes to discover and unfold oneself in harmony with genius loci of the place we live, Alexander Pope recognized an important principle that only poetry can sing about:
Consult the genius of the place in all;
That tells the waters or to rise, or fall;
Or helps th’ ambitious hill the heav’ns to scale,
Or scoops in circling theatres the vale;
Calls in the country, catches opening glades,
Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades,
Now breaks, or now directs, th’ intending lines;
Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs.
A remarkable visitors remark:
“Color-country.net” is a current internet provider’s address in these parts of the world. It couldn’t possibly be more descriptive: indeed, everything seems to be boldly underlined with color. The sun is truly sharp, the objects pure and vulnerable; the light fracturing in millions of facets, sending off streamers of bursts of super-animated photons.
Rocks are glisteningly white, because of their high lime and slick content, contrasting with their blood red brethren running wild over vast tracts of landscape, boundless and bountiful, stamped by the tooth of time, imprinted with the intricate filigree work of Rajasthan’s mighty Mogul palaces.
Enless shades of greens subtly extend from the creek’s edge to the emptiness of the desert, where the lack of living soil discourages habitation of everyone and everything…one foot in the world of the living along riparian lanes, the other in the netherworld of a singed desert is an extreme experience in duality….
I have been living out in this desert for almost 2 week; mesmerized by the isolation; numbed by the oppression of a relentless sun; challenged by the remoteness to all and everything; addicted to the silence which speaks the language of my soul. My thoughts are with the Mormons who made this land their home barely 150 years ago, when there were no maps, no taps, no roads, no hospitals, no food sources. What drove these people? Survival? Hope? Believe in an unfailingly benign god? Madness?
So, this little community—Boulders, Utah – where to a Danish Mormon clan – the Petersons – in the 1870’s exported some of their excess numbers, holds me captivated. In true American style, like in so many similar rural settings, outcasts, renegades, seekers of truth and thriftier and healthier lifestyles seek scope and freedom for their dreams.
Youngsters and oldies, who are intent on busting the abstruse, but altogether current habit of sourcing food as much as 2000 miles away toil the grassy pockets between the rocks. There is a farmers’ market on Saturdays under the trees at a small forum where the locals and visitors interface. On small tables their humble ware is laid out: basil, kale, sprout, kohlrabi (incl. of recipe, as no one as yet knows how to tame kohlrabi into something the digestive tract could handle), and soap and bees’ wax candles and music…..and happy banter.
All photographs on this page by Anselm Spring
(the opinions held are strictly the author’s and may clash with the realities and truths of others—but hey, the name of the game is to evolve, to grow, to set the goal posts further apart– as far as is necessary to accommodate all the universes)