Transcript Summary 👇
In about two weeks, I’m embarking on something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time: hunt my own wild animal.
I reached out to a gent I’ve gotten to know over the last few months—Dylan Love from PH Journals. He runs the number one hunting podcast in Africa. Hunting has always been a fascinating subject for me because, like many others, I feel disconnected from it. I don’t know the intricacies of the industry or how important hunting actually is for conservation.
I even called up my good friend, Farmer Angus, for advice. He offered to take me out on his range for some practice shooting—which I’ll definitely share more about soon.
If you want to see some behind-the-scenes footage, you can follow me on Instagram @josh_snyman
Reverence in Hunting
The word that keeps coming through for me is reverence.
I believe hunting is a sacred act. There’s a deep level of respect required when you take the life of a wild animal. To me, there’s even a feminine energy in that act—a nurturing, cyclical energy that connects life, death, and rebirth.
Of course, there are people who exploit the system, but that’s true everywhere. The light always shines through when people approach things with respect. And Dylan, I feel, is bringing a lot of light into the hunting space.
Facing Death
This journey feels wild and strange. Life has stripped me bare. I know I’m not unique in this—many people experience it—but it’s a necessary process. It entails death.
The death of the old self. The painful kind of death that forces transformation.
And that’s really what hunting is: developing a relationship with the inevitable. With death.
We live in a culture that avoids death at all costs. We change ourselves, shape our appearances, chase endless distractions—all in an attempt to escape the one true inevitability. But what if death isn’t something to fear?
The ancients—Maya, Toltec, and others—saw death as a sacred act, a celebration. A transformation into another epoch, another life.
So what if death isn’t death at all? What if death is just rebirth?
That’s how I want to approach hunting. With reverence. With curiosity. With humility.
Africa, Mama Africa
There’s a lot happening in the world right now. But I can’t help but feel that here, in South Africa, we need to stop looking outside for the solutions. We need to begin right here, on this land.
Recently, I released a video on the destructive mining practices happening on South Africa’s West Coast. The response was overwhelming. Hundreds of comments, so many people voicing their care. It reminded me that people do give a shit.
But the truth is, it starts small. It starts local.
I was walking on Signal Hill not long ago and, from a distance, it looked like paradise. Sunset. Silhouettes. People enjoying themselves. But up close? Rubbish everywhere. Plastic tossed all over the sacred hillside. That’s the paradox of our time. From far away—beauty. Up close—disconnection.
We keep focusing on outside problems, but the real work is right here. On Mama Africa’s soil.
She is birthing a new consciousness. And we need to respect her, love her, and realize she loves us unconditionally. When we honor her, the vibration of this land changes. The food changes. The animals. The communities. Everything.
Reconnection
Nature doesn’t care how we feel about death. She will keep cycling through life, death, and rebirth regardless.
The real respect comes when we stop buying lifeless, plastic-wrapped meat from chain stores and instead build relationships with butchers, farmers, and rural communities. That’s where reconnection begins.
Our food system is broken because we’ve disconnected from the custodians of the land. Farmers receive almost nothing for their hard work, while corporations and executives reap the profits. No wonder our food has fewer minerals, fewer nutrients. The topsoil is being stripped of life.
This is why it all begins with the farmer. With the hunter. With the custodians of the land. If we respect them, if we honor their work, that respect ripples outward to the people.
Imagine if even politicians re-wilded themselves. If they walked barefoot on the land, spoke to the people, understood the problems at a granular level instead of from spreadsheets. What decisions might they make then?
This is why I’m approaching hunting not just as an act of taking life, but as an act of reverence, of reconnection. A chance to remember that death is not the end.
It’s the beginning.It’s rebirth.
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