A Living Magazine - Grounded in Maine - Day 25 - Serpent Cove: An Archaic Revivalist

I woke to a much drier morning. I wanted to do some more photo processing before heading into town...

I embellished my symbol...

...and the Spark.

I guess these posts from when I'm staying at one spot could be classified as "days in the life." They are monotonous perhaps, yet there is a simple beauty in the ritual that develops--one that is unique to each new temporary settlement. Truly, I am returning to all of our roots. It is very much a life not unlike what Terence McKenna called, "the archaic revival." 

Even as a Modern Nomad, I summoned the ancient genetic memory of our common ancestors; found it natural to be planting items to be harvested the next season--should I return (my poppy patch), constructing items that I would not need to construct again the next time, clearing spaces, identifying useful plants, becoming aware of weather patterns, noting the tide line, seeing the pathway of the sun across the sky, learning how to use the land... This is something that I only caught glimpses of on the cross country Journeys, but was learning to perfect here in my home state.

The modern part was an interesting counterpoint. I needed to have a device to communicate with the rest of the world, one which allowed me to work at a job in places where electricity and internet were available, timing things correctly, like recharging the tablet... How fascinating that we have reached an evolutionary point in human development where we can lean back on our archaic roots, while implementing the highest technologies to which humans have ever had access. And what inspired it?

For me, and I think for others, it is the separation from nature. With all that we have achieved, the byproduct has been the artificial replacement of what Aldous Huxley called "the datum of immediate experience," the direct experience of the natural world that fostered our existence for the last million years. 

Now what were we doing? Avoiding nature; seeing it as dirty, messy, chaotic, unpredictable, "don't touch it, because you don't know where it's been!" We are consciously trying to forget what has sustained us, and in my opinion, arrogantly believing that we alone have the ways and means to do everything for ourselves. I, for one, realized that it was a shell game, a grand illusion, and collective delusion.

I was taken into the air by the tornado of modern life. Something bumped me in the head, and I suddenly became sane. The world became colorized. I made it through the land of Oz, reached the Emerald City, seen the Great Oz himself, and then walked right over to peer around the curtain only to discover that it is just some deranged little old man with way too much money, pulling the levers and working the fog machines. 

The material human world is a great achievement only as far as it can still harmonize itself with the natural world. However in its attempt to surpass the ultimate technology that physics had already set in motion and life has complexified and expanded, human achievement becomes racially suicidal. 

I saw myself - and see myself - as one of the first human beings to blend the lifestyle of the ancient past with the technological advantages of the present and develop a simpler system for the future. Yes, I am the extreme example--but a conscious one. I have not run away from urbanity, I have simply found the cracks and spaces where it is still Real. And, now I am showing you where they are.

I have escaped the artificial plan of divorcing humanity from nature, while retaining my connection to humanity--my friends. I feel that as more time goes by and I experience this twilight world between a potential future of dystopic, polluted, greed, violence and hatred created by separation from nature, and the only other alternative, where technology syncs back into, and blends with, the natural world, I am charting new social territory. 

I don't believe that anyone has ever done something this specifically intended to demonstrate such fundamental and basic facts. Because I've seen this "higher way," I now must spend my life doing my part to steer today's arising philosophies toward what works, and highlight exactly why the conventional way is flawed--flawed in such a significant way that it has become self destructive not only to humanity, but to all life on this planet. I am now convinced there is no other alternative. Simplification IS the answer.

I walked down town and immediately plugged into the Wiscasset Common outlet I'd used the day before...

Again, I had time to kill while the computer charged. It is amazing how many small things there are to make note of photographically. So much happens that we metaphorically drive by at 60 mph...

My skin was almost as brown as my shirt.

Ants slowly dismember a large beetle.

A tiny fly with a hummingbird-like ability to hover and dart around,

enjoys a good salt lick from the author's leg.

An even tinier jumping spider bravely faces the destructive power of the end of my pinky.

I hold it close and the spider jumps at it, trying to bite.

Finally, after an hour and a half of charging I walked to the Mini Mart and bought some liquids and a sandwich for later, then returned to the Sunken Garden to finish and publish my post for the day. There was nothing left to do at that point but return to the camp site. And frankly, there was nothing I was looking forward to more...

Sticker on the railing of the bridge.

This sign is located just before my camp site.

Without my glasses, I couldn't read it and thought it was a No Trespassing sign.

A zoom up with the camera revealed the truth.

Glad I didn't dig for clams.

The weather pattern was changing. Here on the extreme coastal peninsulas there was open sky, but inland, at only about 20 miles northwest, great blankets of rain were drenching Gardiner and Augusta...

I walked down on the beach and searched for other kinds of edible seaweed. While in town, I'd read much about the possibilities. Maine has over 250 species of seaweed. Most are edible, and 11 are commercially harvested and sold. My area had an overabundance of bladderwrack (Fucus vesiculosus). This is the typical seaweed that you love to pop between your fingers as a child. The little bladders themselves contain a clear gel commonly used as a thickening agent for soups and ice cream, and flavor enhancer for the cooking of other seafood.

The true Maine way to cook lobsters is to make a fire on the beach, let the embers glow nice and hot, and then place copious amounts of this seaweed on top of the coals, then the lobsters go on top of the steaming seaweed, finally being covered with more seaweed and a big canvas tarp. The seaweed imparts extra moisture and flavor to the lobster, bringing out that unique taste we love so much.

In my case, it was the seaweed itself that I relied upon to supplement my food supplies. Cutting the bladders themselves off of it, I could eat quite a few of them. They were satisfying and tasty--fresh, not fishy tasting...

Before gathering some more of the sea blite that I had enjoyed so much on the previous days, I decided to move the tent down to my second level, between the shore and the woods...

This was much more level, with softer plants underneath.

I took a chance that it wouldn't rain, and left the rainfly off the tent.

The northwestern storms were finally giving the captial city a break,

moving northward toward Bangor and Brewer.

Time to gather my sea blite...

Filling a bag with a lot of sea blite and bladderwrack, then cutting young wild lettuce leaves and adding them, with a dash of sea water to blend their flavors, I had a snack that I could munch on for the rest of the night. 

When it came time to eat my sandwich, I stuffed a bunch of these plants into it to see how it would taste. It was marvelous! The textures, the briny, savory, slightly bitter flavors, mixed with turkey and swiss cheese were a memorable recipe for a more settled future life. By this time, the sunset was painting the sky in that random perfection I'd grown so used to, but never took for granted...

Being symbol-minded, I saw in the casting of a stone through the glass of a still evening surface,

just how the waves radiate out concentrically and eventually fade back to stillness.

Isn't this the effect we have on our world?

We descend into it, make our waves, and then are gone into a hidden place.

Such was the spiritual metaphor for the above photo.

It suddenly occurred to me that an investigation under the bridge was in order. I was curious to see what drew that family there two days earlier. It might also have something I could use for the camp site...

The first thing I saw was a little half buried trampoline. Who would have thunk it?

Then I saw it--the single most valuable item a camp can have for comfort...a chair!

I requisitioned the chair and searched around for a piece of wood to use on my shelf. That item was not available here. But, I found a paper published on my birthday--interesting...

I found the two scaffolding bases shown above and briefly considered walking each back to the camp site, but decided against it. I wasn't quite sure what to use them for and was afraid they might draw attention.

Instead, I picked up the chair and spirited it back. Now with the comfort of a seat, despite the growing mosquito menace, I sat and muched on my seaweed until I felt that tired inclination pass through me. It was time to enjoy a more peaceful sleep in the new location of my middle room. I fell asleep with the fragrance of sea and pine filling my lungs and ultimately animating my dreams.