I, Unplugged


I confess my naiveté in heading out to the wilderness, with only a compass as my religion, for I truly belong to the woods, a druid is how I identify my role.

The compass turned out to be more than a description of humanity. From its four directions — north, east, west and south — emerged the word, NEWS, a subscription of information the masses used? Was it the outreach of a secret consumer rights? People always seemed to be informed and filled to the brim with such news! The directions north and south denoted a polarization in society, so did east and west, a polarization of a duality!

One hour into my journey, I caught a cold. As I sneezed, I unplugged, a vanishing signal and a dying battery, a power and wireless blackout, almost as unpredictable as the weather. Technology proved useless. Was it a rehearsal by invisible land-bots of a Judgment Day? Only the Lord could fathom!

Survive I did, in the wilderness, without a fire or light for months. A rare encounter with a ranger proved to be a lifesaver.

“Why are you sitting in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, without a fire?” he asked me.

That was a Turing test for a real human, the insistence on the use of fire. The false humans had a fear of Swiss knives and fire. You were warned to avoid them and were told, “They are half-mongrels and half-human, bred by Sauron, of the Lord of the Rings, avoid them!”

“I am watching the stars, awaiting the call of my ancestor Sasquatch. Maybe I will glimpse a UFO? And hitch a ride across the galaxy, back home?” I replied.

The ranger was amused. He agreed, we all evolved from Sasquatch, and as far as a homecoming, he doubted an alien would trust us enough! “Many go missing in alien encounters,” he said. “I would avoid them. Light a fire through the night.”

Thus began a great journey across a Midwest landscape, off the grid, alone and unplugged. I bid technology goodbye as I camped for months, living off the land, in the true colors of myself, I, Druid.

Every plant spoke to me, and deer stopped to listen, as though speaking a sacred silence. The Earth itself vibrates with a Divine energy. I could feel it pass through me, as though I was the good conductor. But could I be one, far from a bus or train? Was I the conductor of a symphony of nature sounds — or a mere listener? I howled at the moon like some distant wolf relatives.

There was a silence. In that silence, I saw the northern lights light up the sky. There was a magnetic storm. I was one with the elements, and even my speech was it. It preceded an event of significance: the Synch.

One can synch and de-synch. It feels like nature’s messaging system. The cloud I uploaded to was a bed of earth, the living Earth, humming with life, with its spectrum of frequencies and a language of silent speech. No medium of storage was needed as each moment was refreshed anew, fresh and in that moment. Maybe there is no time in the Universe? Maybe thought is a gift of self-reflection, an understanding of oneself, an egoless identity in a vast sky lit with ions. Maybe that is the only direction: to great rivers of ions.

Someday I will levitate with the Force, the Jedi Force of Earth, Sun, Moon and Jupiter. I remember an old Ojibwa song: “Unplugged from hate and sorrow, technology and masses, I spread my wings, and the wind my friend, agreed to bear my weight. He lifted me and took me to the heavens, where I now live.”

The Edge Partner Directory is your resource for festivals, classes, products and services
Previous articleYou’re Losing Your Senses
Next articleUnplugged
Bhola Ram
Bhola Ram is a druid and a simpleton. Most people laugh at his naïveté, but as druid with roots in nature, he is a born recluse with a natural knowledge of the wilderness. He was brought up by Assam Baba and left home at an early age to live near an ancient cave monastery, where without formal education, he homeschooled in all the tongues of the world and beyond. Contact Bhola at [email protected].


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.