You have been invited to follow this process of emancipation (the point of this blogpost being: emancipation is a constant process, a constant struggle, it´s not a destination you reach, the american dream of bliss and relief have always been a lie).
Some of you get it.
Some of you don´t.
That´s ok. I´m not here to convince you. I´m just sharing the experience. Yo.
We are getting to the end of this process.
Not because I am free (as I said: emancipation is something you have to fight for, all of your life) but because I´ve changed.
I cannot speak in this language anymore, I cannot use these words. We are arriving at a beginning, a new… turn of the wheel. New process. New person. New story.
I´m in Denmark. Touring (see this list of my constant changing plan, you are invited to come say hello).
I´m by the sea, in my mothers house, she´s not here, nobody´s here but me. I´m drinking elderberry juice looking at the ocean trying to wrap my mind around this change. All that has happened. All the experiences, the joys and the tears.
This change has been colossal. This change has been enormous. For four years I´ve been in a state of chock. Changing. Everyday. Changing.
I´m tired. I´m exhilarated.
Shit. How these four years in the forest changed us! Only now… it is only now that these changes are consolidating and being worked into the layout of my personality structure or something.
I hear things fall into the place. I begin to understand.
When I began to blog about our life here in the wild it was a totally different story and we were totally different people.
I was studying how to be as independent and self sustained as possible, it was a blog of experimentation. Reaching out and connecting with other people living like this, not a blog meant for the public as such.
It´s crazy how these four years in the forest have changed us. It´s staggering, really.
And I can´t help but think about how it would all have been if I hand´t blogged, if we hand´t shared our story, if this constant communication hand´t been a huge part of our life. So. Why was it? Why did we choose to speak up instead of turning our backs? Seems contradictory, I can see why some people would think that.
You imagine how life in the wild should be. You have all these dreams. Most of the dreams are quiet dreams. Quiet and harmonious and whole. A rich life, close to the land not bothered at all by the events of the world. So why was it not like that for us? Why did we CHOOSE it to not be like that? Why weren’t we just happy? Beautyful. I read a column in a major danish newspaper, the writer of the column thought we didn’t look happy enough, we didn´t look like “Bonderøven” at all she complained.
A lot of the people I´ve met in the forest…. on one hand they don´t care shit about you. They could´t be bothered with the latest spin. “When this system collapses a lot of people will be in danger” one old man told me “but us here in the forest, we´ll be ok”
He looked content when he said it. Happy. His barn is packed with hoses and screws and planks and what-have-you-not.
So no. The geopolitical turmoil is not like that present to a lot of the people in the forest. On the other hand: in this forest I´ve met the most dedicated political ideological people in my life. They walk the talk. They see through the net of lies. They are intense people. Not harmonious. Not whole. Not indifferent. Not enlightened. Not peaceful. No. INTENSE.
I´m thinking that the forest does that to us. It makes us intense. Sometimes loud. Annoying. Drunk. Stubborn. Sometimes caring like you would´t believe it.
We all move between the micro world of everyday life and the macro world of the planet.
I care about pollution because I drink the water from the rivers, I care about the evil empire because I meet the wrecks that it produces.
All is connected. That´s what I learned. That´s why I care. That´s why I share.
You don´t get to sit in your apartment and judge me because you´ve seen “Into the wild” or read “Walden”. Sorry. It is the people who actually TRY that I respect. I respect the process (of emancipation). I don´t respect the normativity of your ideas (about how “free people” should be).
So there. I said it.
The problem seems to be the dreams.
I did a speech the other day and there was this woman asking me questions. She´d seen us on tv and she wanted to know why our house was not prettier, why we had such ugly furniture. This happens a lot.
People understand the dream. They might even understand the stress and depression and frustration and desperation that led us to fled. But they don’t understand the reality of our life. They want it to be a DREAM.
This is what I think:
* Dream are not real.
* Those who pretend that they live the DREAM they are lying to you, they are lying cheating bastards and it´s despicable.
Noone lives a life of constant beauty and peace. “The happy life” is a damned dream and I blame these lies and these lying bastards, including myself, for letting people on or, maybe more correctly, feeding them.
I won´t be a feeder. An enabler.
If it fits into a magazine it´s a lie.
A commercialised emotion. A sell.
I won´t do it.
I insist on my right to communicate my life (and to share) without it being turned into a sell. But it´s hard, I admit, it is so tempting: if I give you this dream will you buy my books, come to my shows, will the journalists call? Will this give us financially security for a while? Maybe I´m tired of being poor, maybe I would like life to not be so goddamned hard and intense all of the time…. so if I´m on social media- will you crowdfund me and give me your money in return for my thoughts?
How does that not make me a prostitute?
So you see now why I had to take a step back, regroup, think.
The solution seems to be: you either work that ass or you leave the game. Again.
I don’t want your money. I´d rather be poor than accepted. I will not be corrupted but I admit, again, that it´s fucking hard. Not to be. Not to be tempted to comfort you. To tell you that you can break free and all will be splendid. To try and fix you. Help you. Give you everything because you hurt.
We are connected. Noone can be free before all of us are free.
There´s a disturbance in the field and this cannot be ignored, we cannot close our eyes and decide to just think happy thoughts. Because the trees are trembling and the soil is angry, the ocean is pissed and I´m pissed: why on earth would we do these things to each other, why do we suppress each other with such force?
So. I still talk- although I prefer it to be man-o-man. The personal encounter seems so potent most of all because big media/ the powers that be/ the industry/ the advertising/ and the commercialisation have a hard time controlling it. The personal encounter will always be between the people, this is something the companies can´t own.
I´ll continue to write these books because reading books is a personal meeting too. It is between the reader and the author, it´s harder for the spindoctors to interfere, control, push, lure, tempt. And maybe I´ll blog too. Maybe I´ll share my thoughts again… when I´ve understood these changes better, when I´ve found the words.
It is layered into my existence. This sharing. This writing. I could´t stop and that´s why I did it. I shared our experiences because that´s the kind of person I am, this is my work and my role.
And I want to tell you this:
Our life in the forest is magnificent and I am happy. I am truly and utterly content with the choices I made in life. The lifestyle I´m living adds to my life a deep sense of existential meaning. There´s that. But I´m not golden and my dress is not spotless, my choices and the consequences of my choices are multidimensional, some consequences are nice others are questionable.
And there is this: our story is grand NOW… but had you met us when we lived in a caravan, dirty, poor, working on a house that never seemed to materialise you would have thought us crazy. It is only NOW that´s it´s somewhat pretty.
Pretty. Fuck. Why this obsession with the pretty?
There´s something wrong with this need for a beautiful dream.
This is not said out of lack of love- on the contrary.
We must all add to the collective memory and hope of the people, we must all do all that we can!
So I say: Be ware of the dreams!
If I show you my perfect life it might feel good for moment, it will be nice and entertaining, you might drift off into a dream, imagining what it would be like living primitively in the wild. But you probably won’t do it. The leap (of faith) will be too big or there will all kinds of reasons why you can´t do it. So. When you follow these blogs written by people like me you might end up sitting in your chair feeling inadequate.
See what happened there? I actually reinforced the empire that I hate. I made you feel inadequate and powerless.
Like it does.
By showing you pictures or describing how I “got out” I made you feel trapped and enslaved, which you might be (I don´t know) but my intention is to make you feel powerful and inspired.
I believe that you are adequate. I believe that you are powerful. I believe you have both the right and the capability to live as you choose.
This is why I have been quiet, this is why I have been so submerged into thoughts. It is not my ego nor my constant “dissatisfaction”. This is real. This is a real hardcore dilemma. And most of the people living “authentical lives” needs to reflect upon this dilemma. When people wants you to put on the glossy shine: do you do it? Should you? Really? Is this the best way to change the world? To make alternative lifestyles seem “attractive”. Pretty. Maybe we need to face the fact that we (in the western world) have all the privileges and we need to let go of some of them?
And on a personal level:
Will you listen if I´m ugly? Will you come to my shows even if I don’t want your money?
I don´t know. I don´t know what to do. On one hand I want to spit on the commercialisation of lifestyle or “authenticity” on the other hand I KNOW that I make a difference, I know that I touch some people. And when I stand in front of 75 conventional farmers in the darkest part of Jutland, tell them my story, talk about pollution, climate change and whatever…. when I stand in front of them and make them cry or clap their hands, really, what more would a person like me ever dream about?
How is that for having a purpose or a role? What kind of meaning is that…. a meaning where I didn´t expect to find it.
An actual chance to change things.
Maybe we are not that far apart from each other after all. Maybe the evil empire haven´t destroyed everything yet. Human connection. It´s all about human connection. We are the many and they are the few. We´ve got to insist on the personal meeting!
Who would have thought, four years ago, that I would be travelling the motherland, talking about freedom and solidarity. Four years ago I had no hope at all.
Maybe I have hope now.
Maybe I´ve changed.
I don´t always know what I´m doing. Sometimes I´m just doing something.
You can too, you know.
Oh, and the title of this blogpost?
I actually wanted to write about creativity (but it seems that I didn´t) because something spectacular have happened.
I´ve been really sick but decided to look to the roots of this imbalance, I decided to sort out all of these tangled threads, in my body, in my head. I´m feeling much better (it´s a process) and I´m writing a book. It´s a book about… well, I can´t say what it´s about, it´s too vulnerable yet but the other day I met one of my heroes. A famous danish writer named Suzanne Brøgger. I wrote her and told her about my troubles, she invited me for tea and seriously, she blessed me and initiated me, she gave me advice, like elders should and I´m mesmerised and fucking chocked. Does this still exist?
It helped me a lot to talk to her so yeah, there´s something about dreams and heroes locked in between the spaces of the letters in this blogpost but, as I said, I haven´t untangled all of the threads yet. But Jeppe has. After four years as a forest dude/country punk, working hard every day, taking down trees, moulding trees, building houses… one day he just sat down and began to play music again.
There´s a woman called Persille, her song is so beautiful, they´re making protest songs and I love everything about it.
Maybe we fled to the forest because we needed to clear the well.