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Rewilding

Unplugging from the industrial world allowed me to discover reality

By
Mark Boyle
24
August
2024
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Translation of ninth and the last text in the series by Mark Boyle, author of the book The wild year — A life without technology in the rhythm of nature (2019) where he recounts his experience of living without industrial technology.

Read more of Mark Boyle's texts here:

After two years off the grid, I enjoy daily letters, good sleep, and my homemade hot tub (by Mark Boyle)

Here's what I've learned living without email, electricity, and phone...

It was almost midnight when I checked my email for the last time and turned off my phone hoping to never turn it on again. I had spent the summer of 2016 building a straw bale house with my own hands on a small, half-wild property in County Galway, Ireland, and the next morning I intended to start a new life without modern technology. There would be no running water, no clock, no fossil fuels, no fossil fuels, no electricity, or any of the things it powers; no internet, telephone, washing machine, light bulbs, or radio. By disconnecting myself from the industrial world, I had no idea if I was going to lose all contact with reality or, on the contrary, finally discover it.

I am reluctant to write about the general reasons why I rejected technology. We already know them all too well, and it is not because of a lack of information that we are continuing on the path we are on. But over time, I found that those motivations had slowly changed. Today, they have less to do with saving the world and more with enjoying it. The world needs to be savoured [before being savoured the world especially needs to be saved from the machines that dig into the Earth's crust, cover it with concrete and bitumen, and release toxic substances into the water, air and soil, NdT].

With no access to social media or information, my world became both smaller and more detailed. Sometimes I hear conversations about backstops[1] or fake news, but I don't understand much about it. All of this seems abstract and distant when there are so many concrete things in front of me every day: fishing for pike, making cider, planting trees, carving spoons, and a hundred other things that the modern world used to do for me. Some suggest that this approach is selfish, that I am turning my back on global problems, and maybe they are right. But I am not sure that a tweet from me about Brexit would help the world more than rolling up my sleeves and doing something useful here and now.

It was not all easy, far from it. Without a phone, it's no longer possible to call family and friends, or to send a text message to find a friend in the pub. Washing while squatting in an aluminum tub with a jug of water is as unromantic as it sounds. But I've learned that this lifestyle has its own characteristics and is based on old, forgotten solutions. I am now writing letters to those I love in pencil and on paper, a process that requires a completely different quality of language and thought. Instead of receiving endless emails, messages, and calls, I get one or two letters a day, and they are important to me. I ended up building an outdoor hot tub, and taking a dip under the stars with a glass of homemade blackberry wine is as romantic as it sounds.

Speaking of romance, after two years of living together with my partner, we went our separate ways. It would be too simplistic to put it all down to lifestyle, even though that certainly played a role. This heartbreak caused me to ask myself awkward questions about what I was sacrificing. But I can't pretend to be anyone but myself; I wouldn't be happy. Since then, I've met someone else, and that's wonderful. If you stay honest, things work out as they should, no matter how difficult it may seem. People ask me if I feel alone, but I've been more social with my neighbours since I quit social media, and I've learned to enjoy quiet moments while gazing at the landscape and wildlife. Among other things, this is what I did not expect.

When you say no to one thing, you say yes to another. Take the music. The day I rejected the immortalizing world of television, radio, and the Internet, it was as if all the world-renowned artists I loved died at the same time. No more Bowie or Joni Mitchell. There is a strange sadness in this, but by giving up recorded music I started attending live traditional music sessions, and I love it now. I am even learning to play it (badly) myself.

Not having a clock, my relationship with time has changed radically. In a way, things take longer. There is no electric kettle to make my tea in three minutes, no supermarket to buy bread and pizza. But the strangest thing is that I have more time. Writing with a pencil, I can't get distracted by putaclical article titles or ads. Things happen at a relaxed pace with no stress. There is more diversity, less repetition. You feel in sync, not only with seasonal rhythms, but also with the rhythm of your own body. I have never slept so well. If I want to drop everything and go hiking, I can do it. It taught me to “be here and now.” Mindfulness is no longer a spiritual luxury, but an economic necessity. Even though it's not the most profitable career, it's good for my personal bottom line: happiness.

I've lived with and without technology, and I know what brings me the most peace and satisfaction. The American environmentalist Aldo Leopold once said that “we all want security, prosperity, comfort, long life, and boredom.” It's all too easy to live a long time without ever feeling fully alive. For most of my life, I haven't been able to find the right balance between that feeling and comfort. Today, I want to experience all emotions and elements in their entirety. The rain, the joy, the wonder — all of that.

This lifestyle may not be for everyone, but it is for me. I don't know much, but I know that.

Mark Boyle

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Footnote [1] — Related to discussions on Brexit and the possible return of a physical border between Ireland and Northern Ireland, see this article: https://www.francetvinfo.fr/monde/europe/la-grande-bretagne-et-l-ue/brexit-on-vous-explique-le-backstop-irlandais-ce-filet-de-securite-au-coeur-du-bras-de-fer-entre-londres-et-bruxelles_3167753.html

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