Scouts and acceptance
The following is an entry from my journal.
This is the first warm night of the summer. It is still humid. Water is dripping outside from the roof. There no longer is this familiar cool air of the evening hours, which gets progressively cooler throughout the night. Like all other animals around me, I am adapting to the evolving circumstances. Things tend to be quiet when the sun is high in the sky. The birds seek refuge under the trees and the frogs are probably spending most of their time underwater. Everything comes to life as the sun moves to its setting phase. These days I only encounter eagles either very early in the morning or at dusk. The crows and magpies that would even come up to my doorstep are nowhere to be seen. They must have migrated further up the mountain in search of lower temperatures.
In terms of human activity, it is largely uneventful here. Well, I guess I do produce enough noise with all the manual labour I do, but it is quiet otherwise. People who know my situation ask how do I manage to deal with this state of affairs. Perhaps I have developed some skill without actively trying to master it, though all I can tell is that I do not feel unsettled. I mind my business and the days go by peacefully. I could not have asked for more. Some will consider this quietude, though there is plenty of activity all around: it is just that one needs to be attuned to it by accepting it.
This morning a luxurious car stopped by the hut. I was doing some work with the pickaxe while the dogs where sitting under the shade. A stylish man walked out to ask me if I could keep the dogs indoors for about an hour. He said: “we have a group of scouts approaching your location on foot and some are afraid of dogs.” I happily obliged. There is no need to trigger anybody’s phobia. The car went back whence it came and about thirty minutes later some young adults started showing up. I could hear them coming from further up the valley, as they were playing loud music. As they walked by, I noticed they were all holding a phone in hand and were focused on their screen. Did they even notice any details around them? I could not tell. Perhaps they were communicating with some dear friend or their mother, but I will assume this was just a distraction of theirs. Friends and family can wait, while you take the opportunity to give your undivided attention to your surroundings.
The scouts moved slowly towards the other side of the valley, making stops along the way. Hiking in these parts is not your average walk in the park, after all. They were out of sight after a while, though they could still be heard. This event reminded me of the notion of “so close; yet so far”. We can be in the physical proximity of some thing, place, or person, yet our mind does not appreciate what is. For the scouts, this excursion could have been done virtually, such as inside of a gym: put them on a treadmill, keep the speed low to facilitate phone usage, and blast those speakers. They were not mentally prepared to change their ways and so they would have found this place incredibly dull.
I not only tolerate life in my mountains, I actively enjoy it. It took me a while to adjust to the natural rhythms and to let everything transpire at its own pace. Now I have an eye for the little things, like how my surroundings are evolving with the changing seasons. I am environed by peace, while I have the capacity to recognise it and not seek more.
People ask me how can I be so nonchalant. “Do you not get bored?” is a common question. Part of it has to do with my appreciation of nuances. I am a product of my environment. When you internalise the notion that things happen when they are meant to, you no longer get upset when whatever plans did not get realised at some arbitrary deadline. It is a laissez faire way of living, where you do what you can with the understanding that most phenomena are not a function of your volition. It also is a way of discovering what you want by letting the flow of life make it manifest rather than you developing expectations for matters you do not control.
Knowing what we want is among the most difficult achievements. This might seem like an exaggeration: “of course I know what I want; who are you to know better than me!?”, you may exclaim. What I mean is not that we have no awareness of our conscious desires, but rather that we have not necessarily thought them through to appreciate their reason and whether they are consistent with our present state. Many of our wants are a reflection of what others in our milieu take for granted or what we have been conditioned to seek through force of habit. We echo a common sentiment, a known magnitude that is, perhaps, not aligned anymore with our actuality.
What I have known for a long time now is how biased we can be in favour of the familiar. The unfamiliar may be unfulfilling and leave a bad first impression on us, such as in the case of the slower pace of life in the mountains that the scouts needed to make tolerable by means of loud music and always-on Internet connectivity. There are good reasons for preferring the known: I do it as well. Though if we do not try to keep an open mind towards new experiences when those happen, then we can become stagnant and not well-rounded in our outlook.
The key is to allow events to unfold and to accept them for what they are. “I will fix it” is a common sentiment which hints at our propensity to overreach rather than to adapt to what is present. Sometimes we can indeed make changes that are benign to us, though we can also “fix it” by changing our perspective rather than trying to affect the relevant factors.
To the question of me getting bored, I can tell that it is indeed difficult if you expect spectacles and the kind of social events one finds in the city. But why demand those at all times and not learn to work with what you have once in the countryside? I find it interesting, for example, to hike to the peak of the mountain where the eagles are. Seeing such large birds up close is amazing! Or to tend to the trees I have planted, which show signs of growth every day. These sort of activities are boring only if we are expecting something else altogether. Otherwise they are fine and we can find fulfilment in them. There is nothing to be fixed about them: we just have to reconsider our approach. Conversely, I will not complain that city life is not like what I find in my valley, and will instead appreciate what it has to offer.
There are individual preferences and it is okay to be opinionated about what works for each of us. Though we can learn to be more adaptable and curious. It is a matter of trying to broaden our mind in a controlled way to that which is different. Then we will appreciate whatever is for what it is and, perhaps, become more aware of things we would otherwise take for granted. What to do with such knowledge will depend on the specifics of the case. For some, it will let them stick to their course of action while making the requisite refinements; for others it may be the impetus they need to escape from circumstances and habits that are detrimental to them.
While this is a warm night, it will still be cold in a couple of hours. It is easy to get sick in the mountains by underestimating the local climate. This too is something one can complain about, provided they are not prepared to behave on the basis of acceptance. I will keep the window slightly open to get fresh air. And I will fall asleep while listening to the crickets and night birds.