Too often, the word chaos is burdened with a negative connotation. Think: disorder, confusion, unpredictability, and lack of control that overwhelms or destabilizes. It is often associated with evil or malevolence, a consequence of what some call sin, undermining god's so-called perfect order. It is a view requiring walls to be arrow straight, all corners set at a perfect 90 degrees, all circles absolutely round, all hearts focused on pleasuring Sky Daddy, who defeated Satan, the one accused of being the author of ungodly chaos. The Devil angle is where the negative connotations are derived. This simplistic perspective overlooks...

Modern religious expression has become as fouled by selfishness as carcass-contaminated water. All who drink from it risk their mental health from toxins that infiltrate and infest the mind, undermining the ability to be a loving human. It is no longer an individual path toward spiritual supremacy, but a performance where the believers accost the non-believers (aka thinkers) to boost the number of people in the pews, where they are expected to tithe offerings and adhere to strict political agendas imposed upon believer and thinker alike.

This quote hit me with the force of slamming into an overhanging tree branch while running with abandon at full speed in the dead of night. Yes, I had to pick my ass up off the floor and it took me quite some time to return to my senses. On separate occasions, I have laid hands on the trunks of three trees, thousands of miles apart, and felt them vibrating with an energy that used my hands as a conduit, infusing my soul with a sonorous rhythm. Each time, the intimacy of the connection caused tears of joy to run down my ruddy face. The jolt to my system caused me to perpend deeply on the mystical interactions before I was able to extricate myself from their presence and move on, my body still buzzing.

f asked to diagnose society's ills, I would say the root cause of most, if not all, of humanity's problems boils down to polarity, the arbitrary divisions that are imagined and prevent us from unifying as a collective whole. Typically, those characteristics leveraged to keep us divided are nugatory, trifling, amplified such that we encounter others with our hands firmly grasping a war club when we should approach with an open heart and a willingness to embrace the new. At a minimum, we should be setting aside any biases that could hinder human connection. Well, not just human connection, but affiliation with all beings, not just those similar to us. Unfortunately, a society connected across strata would undermine those in positions of authority who keep a stranglehold on power by inflaming the people over arbitrary characteristics.

Harmony serves as a core principle in multiple belief systems, emphasizing interconnectedness, balance, and peaceful coexistence with other humans, animals, plants, and the objects we tend to arrogantly misclassify as inert. I can attest to rocks having unique spirits by virtue of the 19 rocks gracing my altar, each emanating stable spirit energy unique to their character. Harmony is a tenet of Confucianism, Taoism, Hinduism, and the animistic beliefs of the Mvskoke, Lakota, Iriquois, Diné, and many other indigenous peoples. Harmony is a key ingredient to achieving happiness. Indeed, sustained happiness is impossible if the individual's spirit is locked in discord.

s it any wonder that people living intimately with the Earth view all things as having life, spirit, and personhood? This encompassing perspective sees these three qualities inherent even in those things Western philosophy has relegated to the lowly, inanimate classification. They are treated as pretty much irrelevant in the grand scheme and completely devoid of that spark that gives life and agency to the animate. If we were to stuff the close to the land people into a religious box, that box would be labeled Animism. Animists know the natural world is alive and relational, rather than a collection of inert objects. The Animist philosophy sees humans as part of a larger community of living and spiritual beings, not separate from nature.

n Thoreau's book, Walden, he creates the illusion he is far from civilization, where he is immersed in solitude, far, far from anything and anyone intrusive, enabling the opportunity to bask in the soothing salts of solitary living. However, Walden was only a couple of miles from his home. His temporary cabin was on land owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Henry was far from being isolated. He frequently walked into town to dine with friends and entertained friends in the cabin. Knowing this context neither taints my enjoyment of his musings nor negates the impact of his words. However, I do wonder if his semi-solitude hindered his ability to escape quiet desperation and express his song. His book, Walden, may very well have been the song within him. It is a lovely song.

I have seen many animal prints in the backcountry, but never one left by Lord Bear. I have encountered Grizzly in Montana, Black Bear and Black Bear scat on the ramp to the Kuwohi observation tower in Smoky Mountains National Park. Relative to Grizz, the Black Bear looks like playthings, really, really large dog-type companions tagging along on a forest jaunt. Looks are deceiving. The Black Bear could tear apart a human in nothing flat, rendering the next scat pile a mixture of berries and partly digested human bits. I did see Grizz scat while hiking a Glacier National Park trail, but no sign of paw print nor claw indentations in the soil. It was as if Lord Bear levitated while shitting. At least, the piles answer the age-old question about a bear shitting in the woods...

When I need inspiration, respiration, a catalyst, or a spark of divinity, I must exit syphilization, stage left, and immerse myself in a comforting bath of wildness. There, the plants, animals, rocks, dirt, and insects conspire in relationship to infuse my soul with a serenity that draws from Earth's vast resources. There is no specific habitat type that anchors me. The biome can be anything from beach to desert, grassland to dense tropical rainforest, and everything in between. The key factor, the space in which I set temporary roots, must feel untrammeled, pristine. I can pretend a worn path is animal-made during their daily searches for food or annual migration patterns. An errant gum wrapper or selfishly discarded cigarette butt are enough to destroy the carefully coiffed illusion I create that I am on a solitary journey seeking connection with interconnectedness.

Numerous times, numerous seasons in my life, I have fantasized about simply walking away from my place in syphilization and taking up residence in the back country for a life of abject solitude. In that respect, I envy Jack (no middle name) Reacher's nomadic life. Off-grid. Out of society's clutches simply by boarding the next bus on the road to everywhere and nowhere. The key difference. He weaves in and out of the general public, stumbling into all sorts of mayhem, whereas my phlegmatic personality prefers the serenity of forests, mountains, plains, and deserts, as long as the location is devoid of other human elements. What kept me in situ rather than pursuing my fantasy was the responsibility to those individuals depending on me for food, shelter, and guidance, responsibilities I owned up to, for I am not a monster. Err...not that type of monster. Not that the nuances are worth dithering over, for any dissimilarities are mere pettifog.