Living “Off the Grid” in the woods gives my family the freedom to be ourselves to the fullest. No government intervention, no religious restrictions, and only the limits of nature in her beauty and grandeur to follow our hearts, minds, and our own sense of morality and justice. Which, if I do say so myself, enables us to live in peace and harmony with our fellow woods dwellers who have taken up residence alongside us. We relish the outdoor aromas, living with the Earth, surrounded by nature. Our neighbors are close enough to share our feelings, yet far enough from our home not to infringe on our space. The only rules here are: live and let live. My parents chose this life, theirs before them, and even earlier generations recognized that civilization was no longer an option for them.
These woods offer scarce resources, so we live mostly hand to mouth. But that’s the choice we’ve made in this lifestyle. It’s harsh at times, but we still have our freedom, despite the hardships. We have all learned to cope. We stay together as a family and maintain loyalty to each other.
Not having access to shopping malls and supermarkets, we have to depend on our own foraging skills to find food. As vegans, our family has succeeded in finding grains, seeds, nuts, and other edible forms of vegetation. There have been times when pickings were slim, but we managed. Some of us have, out of necessity, ventured off to a house adjacent to the edge of our woods to scavenge some scraps of discarded food. I’m not too proud of having to have done that, but when times are hard, one takes what one can get. On balance, we believe it’s worth it.
Normally, our days are filled with fancy freedom. We play, we wander at our own pace, wake up whenever we want, and go to sleep the same way. But each of us is aware of the existential dangers that we face daily. We have to teach them diligently to our children and to our grandchildren.
Summers are pleasant. Food is plentiful, water is available, and life is easy. But winters are worse. It’s often difficult to harvest enough food during the summer and store it for the winter, since we don’t have refrigeration. Streams are sometimes frozen, but there are places where the
ice has broken, so we can have sufficient drinking water.
Not long after the sun rose today, I stepped outside my home to take in the fresh air, to enjoy the forest breeze on my face, and take pleasure in the glorious scent of pine coming from nature in the woods. Living in the woods imparts a heightened realization of one’s senses in contrast to the noise, grime, and pollution of what civilization has become. In the woods, natural aromas are intensified, hearing becomes sharper, and food is more palatable. You feel so alive and in touch with the Earth.
No matter how free we profess to be, living our lives as we see fit, we are constantly scanning our surroundings for intruders who are determined to eradicate us, often through acts of extreme violence and just plain cruelty. If anyone senses the presence of one, they are quick to sound the alarm to warn the rest of us. We all depend on cooperation.
This morning, I was one of the first to venture out and, because it was early and quiet at that hour, I was able to hear the sound of impending doom. My strong sense of survival kicked in instantly. I dashed between two boulders, crouched silently, and held my breath, careful not to rustle the leaves around me or make a sound. The flying monster passed overhead without noticing me and, fortunately, did not return. My life was spared. That experience is our way of life in the woods. But, I fear, it’s just as bad in the civilized world outside the woods.
As I related earlier, it’s hardest in winter. We have to collect whatever we can find to sustain us virtually every day, even when the flying monsters may be watching and waiting for us. We try to avoid going out during daylight in winter and do most of our food gathering in the evenings, by moonlight. If we venture out to the edge of the woods, we have to be extremely cautious about the giants who take pleasure in killing us.
Giants, for the most part, live outside the woods. Often, they venture in, seemingly for the fun of it, or just to track us down and kill us. Flying monsters live high above in the woods as well as outside. Last week, we mourned the death of my cousin and, I’m sad to say, one of my own sons, who fell victim to the flying monsters. A month ago, my sister, who lives just down the path from our house, became an easy mark for one of the giants. We’re still mourning the losses to our family. But life goes on. We go on. We won’t succumb to the tyranny of civilized life outside the woods. The woods are our home.
Why do they hound us? I don’t understand what we have done to incur their wrath. Taken a
few scraps of food? Is that sufficient to warrant our deaths? The deaths of my friends and neighbors who mean them no harm? Apparently, the giants think it is. The flying monsters seek us out and snatch us away. So many of my family members and friends have been carried off to their deaths. Why? Are our beliefs and values so different from theirs that we must pay with our lives? Who declared this war on us, if that’s what it is? I certainly didn’t start it. I just want to live my life without fear of hunger, capture, or despair. So long as there are giants and flying monsters, we must resign ourselves to the fact that they consider us inferior beings.
I always believed that all creatures were created equal, that no one creature is superior to another. That we have a right to live our lives in peace. So why were the giants and flying monsters created? And by whom? Do their size, strength, or special ability to fly grant them dominance?
But now, all this philosophizing has stimulated my appetite. Let me put these thoughts aside for a moment while I search for something to eat. After that, I’ll continue my story. I’m at the edge of the woods now. The light is fading, so I think it might be safe to venture out a little farther. I don’t see any flying monsters or giants in the area. Ah, I smell the aroma of peanut butter that someone has apparently failed to wrap tightly. I’ll just…
SNAP!!!!
“Hey, honey. Looks like we’ve caught another one of those pesky field mice. I’ll set another trap tomorrow.”