Part II

The Way Here, The Way Home

A winter afternoon in the East Garo Hills

How I got here - Part II

I chose to leave the bank at the end of the 2 year graduate scheme. I knew at this stage that the bank was no longer the correct teacher for me, and so I left the corporate world behind, and a month later left the UK, system and all, for a five-month journey through India.

III. India

A land of intensity, diversity, and overwhelmingly of life. 

Experience is my greatest teacher, and my journey through India gave me plenty of it. I travelled through mega cities: Mumbai, Kolkata, Delhi, Bangalore; through towns and villages in Bihar and Madhya Pradesh; up to the West Garo Hills of Meghalaya; down in the Wayanad jungle farms of the Western Ghats. I awaited sunrise in the cool darkness of a village lake, pressing paan leaf and betel nut between my shivering palms as I partook in a festival giving thanks to Surya, the Sun; I spent time at a charity-funded school near Bodhgaya where new monasteries seem to spring up every season, but local villagers have no means for their children to access schooling; I volunteered with the Last Wilderness Foundation in Panna, home to a tiger-rich sal forest with great likeness to that described in The Jungle Book, where conservation work conflicts with local and indigenous peoples. I ran over leopard tracks, tiptoed back from the growl of a crocodile, hastily swerved away from an eruption in a nearby clump of bamboo forest - the trumpet of a wild elephant. I learnt more in 5 months in India than I could have in any module or rotation. More than ever, I saw that it was not a UK or Western system that I was disillusioned with, but a worldwide one. 

IV. Nature and Exploration

“Human spirit is one of the most striking realisations of wildness… eccentrically beautiful as an ice crystal, as liquidly life-generous as water, as inspired as air. Kerneled up within us all, an intimate wildness, sweet as a nut.” - Wild, Jay Griffiths

Long before any conscious thoughts about our system or changing it, I was rapt by the natural world. “Kith'' by Jay Griffiths, appears to attribute nature to a child’s home, home to their play, imagination, curiosity, freedom. I remember my own childhood, the mystical enchantment I felt under the dense canopy cover, the deep dwellings imagined in dark furrows of the woods, the secret wonderings shared with tall grass. Coupled with this was my desire to explore. I look back and gaze with newfound appreciation upon a deep-rooted dream to be an explorer. I wanted to discover new islands, venturing through the mega-flora and fauna that I pictured inhabiting them. Tales of fantasy and great adventure, notably JRR Tolkien's world of Hobbits and Wizards, and Rudyard Kipling’s “The Jungle Book” gripped me. A large part of me wished for nothing more than to swap places with Mowgli and be raised by a wolf pack in the jungle. But through life, schooling, and trying to fit in with the modern world I saw around me, I drifted from my fantasies with the natural world. I grew up enough to realise “The Explorer” was not a viable life-path or respected profession. Then I grew some more and questioned: why not? Now once again I let go. I feel the soft cushion of moss hug my feet, nestling beneath blades of grass that gleam wet between my toes. A green kingdom, a new world to be discovered. I open my ears to the gay chirrups of birds in the trees above, fellow inhabitants of the land - I realise I have no names for many of them, or have forgotten them. New names to learn, new people to meet. Bird people. I am drawn towards the wild and free, to mossy bark and birdsong, to streaking clouds and flirting sunlight. I was lost for a while, but now I know how I want to live and what I want to work for. I am grateful to have found my way back home. 

V. New Stories

“In the time of the seventh fire, a new people would emerge with a sacred purpose. It would not be easy for them… for they stood at a crossroads” - Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

Like a piece in a puzzle I had been missing, my search of indigenous peoples, their knowledge, stories and ways of life, perfectly complemented my loss of faith in modernity. And suddenly the picture started to come together rapidly. Learning about the Aztecs, Incas, and Mongols in History lessons gave direction to an instinctual pull towards indigenous cultures. Yet it was not until I read Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer that I really opened my eyes to the ways of life, stories, community and ceremony, but also oppression and loss of a native people, in this case the Potawatomi. “Ishmael” and “Story of B” by Daniel Quinn then provided a new perspective, adding context to a broader anthropological background laid out by Yuval Harari’s staple “Sapiens”. They opened my eyes to the idea that it is not human nature, but a culture that has proved so destructive, and in doing so brought light to the importance indigenous “Leaver'' knowledge has, not only in understanding the past but guiding us into a future of human existence on this planet. As I made my way through “Ishmael”, I arrived in Meghalaya where I stayed with Dharman and his family in the West Garo Hills. Dharman belongs to the Garo tribe, a traditionally animist people and one of the last remaining matrilineal tribes in the world. During my time there I was struck by the difference - the stories, skills, knowledge all pregnant with connection to the hills they live on. Their lives were not without struggle, not perfect by any means, but there was a liberation I felt there. And their joy was infectious. I understood the gravity of these feelings - these keepers of ancient cultures and protectors of the natural world may be the best chance of understanding alternative stories of how we might live, to remember what we have forgotten. I wondered what this could mean for my own life. 

Finding a path home

Now I weave together the threads of my life, lessons and experiences. I try to live intentionally. Old habits questioned, old ways of knowing challenged. I gain a greater appreciation for the foods that sustain me by foraging and following a plant-based diet. I intertwine my childhood wonder with lessons from stoicism and mycology, sprouting a deep attention and awe with the world around me. And I look at all that sustains me, these gifts of the Earth - I express my gratitude whilst thinking: what can I give in return? Yet I am new to much of this, and there is so much I want to learn. In “Braiding Sweetgrass”, Robin Wall Kimmerer talks of the prophecy of the seventh fire, a prophecy of modern times it seems. There it is said that “the young would turn back to the elders for teaching and find that many had nothing to give”. I have felt this, and felt a sense of loss upon realising that the things I wish I had learnt are gone from those that might once have taught them to me. Yet, devoted to growing my understanding, I seek new teachers. Together I hope to reconnect with the Earth, to humbly accept its gifts and think about what we can give in return, and to shine a light on a path forward with new stories.