There exists a world outside of the world that we humans inhabit. This is one way of seeing it. Joseph Conrad writes of it in Heart of Darkness. It is the jungle. The uncivilized. The wild. It is the truth that we attempt to build layers and layers upon and bury down with concrete, screens, jobs, and electric wires. A constant humming that grows louder and louder as we silence ourselves from our distractions. A deep and immense chanting like the repetitions of thousdands of monks that seems to come from the heart of the planet. Our hearts resonate as we draw near to it, but we shut it out. The terror. A connection that we are ashamed of, that we hide behind our styled haircuts and our clothes. What is it? That we are a part of this infinite turning of the wheel of life and death, that we ourselves are beasts on this floating rock? That our individual lives are like the raindrops falling from the sky of the forest during the monsoon: completely and totally indistinguishable from all of the other drops around us, and very, very, very brief?
You can visit this place anywhere in the world. It is the land where civilization cannot be found. Where the plants, insects, mammals, and reptiles crawling in the hills reign. Drive far enough away from the cities, hike deep enough into the woods, and you will feel it. Society becomes remote. You have no cell phone signal or internet. You couldn’t connect communicate with the new world if you wanted to.
You are overcome by a feeling of being swallowed by something much much larger than yourself, but that you have somehow managed to survive and experience the beast from within.