Domei
On my 26th birthday, I left the church, resolving never to return. A profound experience transformed me, liberating me from a tradition I found too confining.
Since then, I have experimented with and explored the practice of 'being present', mainly within Western and Eastern contemplative traditions that highly value direct experience.
It's why I like Taoism—a slow, quiet, peaceful philosophy of few words.
After giving interviews on a few podcasts, I realised that although I was invited to speak about foraging, I no longer merely discussed foraging as a means to nourish ourselves with wild ingredients.
I focused on the deeper meaning of the word fed and what it means to feed oneself.
I am taking the understanding beyond the usual cultural meaning of consuming the necessary nutrients the body requires to function correctly.
Instead, I wandered off script and down untrodden paths, exploring what 'feeding ourselves' means more profoundly, more contemplatively—beyond just physical nourishment.
The podcast hosts loved it—it was a breath of fresh air.
Recently, while exploring the interior of India, I met with some extraordinary people.
People whose lives embodied much of what I had discovered over the past thirty years exploring what it means to be human in a world we barely understand intellectually, let alone know in a deep-felt way.
The art of foraging is much more than a plate of food.
When I teach, I give students a rudimentary toolkit and framework to learn about plants by directly relating to them.
I usually use the term 'primal sensing' to explain how this happens. I need to be clear that my 'plant work practices' have nothing to do with shamanism or the New Age.