Walking in the Woods Without my Knife
Learning how to move less defensively through life.
For the first time yesterday, I went walking in the woods without my knife. When I started doing my early morning forest walks in mid 2021, I would bring my husband’s hunting knife with me in my backpack before heading out. Though it seemed unlikely, I imagined there was a chance some crazed violent person might accost me in the woods, demanding my wallet or jumping me for sociopathic fun. This was when I would use the knife to preserve my life. For more than three years, I’ve been going on these peaceful nature walks with the darling knife. The woods I walk in is in a very safe part of the city and I often encounter dog walkers and joggers on the path. I know that the threat of being assaulted or robbed is pretty damn low. But for some reason, I simply would not part with my knife (until yesterday).
“What’s up with that?” I asked myself. The answer I received wasn’t warm or fuzzy. I realized I took some twisted pleasure in the fantasy of being presented with the chance to justifiably inflict violence on another person. After all, for a decent, kind human being like myself, defense is the only “justifiable” offence, a “virtuous” approach to releasing aggression and shedding another person’s blood (literally or metaphorically). The concept of protection meant I could give myself permission to hurt or vilify someone and get away with it. In my self-defense reverie, my body feels a surge of adrenaline and cortisol, so I feel no pain and have superhuman strength as I slash and stab imagined hateful attacker in order to save myself.
Defense is the Best Offence
When I step out into the world with this defensive attitude, what I am telling myself is “Your environment is threatening. You are not safe. The world is not safe. People are evil. You must always protect yourself. Never let down your guard. Be ready to attack always, lest you get attacked first.” This defensive worldview got drummed into me early in life. As a kid, my dad made sure we “double-locked” the front door. I had survival skills swimming training. Mom said, “You have to learn how to swim because Singapore (the country where I grew up) is an island and can sink anytime. Those who don’t know how to swim or turn their pajamas into flotation devices will be the first to die.” My folks also sent me for Taekwondo lessons because as a girl, they figured I might need it if I find myself stuck in a dark alley with a baddie.
So yesterday, as an experiment, I decided to go into the woods sans knife to see if the act of being unarmed might change my way of being.
Psychospiritual Protection
Usually, once I enter the forest, I do a whole bunch of meditations and “spiritual” visualizations. Using my inner voice, I recite passages from scripture, Buddhist, meta or Hindu Beeja mantras. I do alchemical narrowing and widening of my vision “solve et coagula”. Using my inner eye, I envision my chakras spinning, sacred geometry or Merkabahs, I imagine communing with the trees and birds, or I do an assortment of mudras and breathing techniques.
But entering the forest knifeless, I did not feel compelled to do any of my usual psychospiritual practices. I simply walked and let my mind be. I stopped trying to discipline it, but instead, entertained whatever came up, like what I’d like for breakfast. This helped me be present in a way I hadn’t been before. By not grasping at “enlightening”, “spiritual” or “serenity inducing” mental images and sounds, I could relax rather than work at trying to maintain conscious order. I realized: my head had been way too noisy because it was so f*ckin scared of going down the wrong paths and getting lost.
Leaving my knife behind created an attitudinal shift — I became less defensive and more accepting and tolerant of myself. Disarming myself of the knife allowed me to also disarm myself of my arsenal of mental disciplines and crutches. Leaving the knife at home was a symbolic gesture – of the surrender of my soul to the terror of being a human being living an unpredictable and finite life on earth.
My hypervigilance decreased. I felt lighter and freer, able to take myself and the world as I experienced it less seriously.
Removing the Bricks from the Wall
Weapons, rituals, ceremonies, artifacts, accessories, personal narratives, rules, routines, even relationships — I’ve used all such things as a means of protection, as a means of pattern-spotting or creating structure out of the perplexing randomness and unpredictability all around me. Like Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”, the knife, the psychospiritual techniques, the altars and mesas, the job titles and personal myths, the lifestyle and attire, the structuring of time and activities, the budget balancing, and the relationships — they can all become part of my elaborate construction of defense, bricks in the fortress I build to feel safe and secure.
In “The Unfolding Now”, A. H. Almaas writes, “Many people these days blame their insecurity on the terrorism in the world. But the actual lack of safety is more a result of the terrorism that is inside our minds — the internal saboteurs”. My internal saboteur is that assailant in the woods who lives in my head, the one who encourages me to be an aggressive, closed-off person who chooses fear rather than faith as her dance partner.
There’s no Preventing “the end of your world”
Maybe someone menacing might pounce on me one day and I may curse myself for not having my knife. Maybe I’ll lose my decency, my sanity, my memories, my cognitive abilities, or my faith in a god or a universe that’s got my back, and I may curse myself for not doing enough physical, cognitive, spiritual, psychological and spiritual “preventative care”. But I’m so tired of always being on the lookout for potential danger and living in anticipation of everything dreadful that might or might not come to pass. So I’m going to continue to leave that knife at home. I’m going to try to trust that I will be as safe as I need to be in any given moment. I’m also going to trust that — despite much shock, protest and agony — I’ll be able to face the horror (whether than be in the form an assailant, the death of a loved one, illness, my own death, or a personal tragedy) when it comes.
