I have this image of druids. And then I pretend, that I'm a druid myself. And there are other druids too of course. I saw the first, which inspired these thoughts, in Eugene, Oregon, jumping off the train some years ago. He seemed to glide down the platform, like an elf, floating, his guitar case at his side, his weapon. He was maybe about 25 years old or so, long dark black hair, ragged brown clothes, purple undershirt. He was a druid, I decided, his plain robes. Very simply he was dressed. But his dress looked capable to handle at any moment anything that might happen.
I wasn't a druid yet when I saw this druid in Eugene. I was just me. But I've since become a druid. I've slept in the woods since quite a bit, afterall. They're like home to me, the woods, trees, trees, trees, some water, green, green, green. And brown. And purple. These are the colors of a druid, I've decided, green and brown and purple. Which are the colors of Eugene, the damn place.
We druids, now, we're all disconnected from society. We must be, afterall, out there sleeping in those woods. There's no cellular signal or wi-fi signal out there in the woods.
And that's the first step to becoming a druid, or something similar, some mythical being or something. You must disconnect. From all you know, you must disconnect. I think anyway. For me, anyway, that was the case. But for everyone else, I hypothesize that this is the same—but different.
You must be in-tune with your instinct, your heart. And you must follow that little voice—which speaks outside your thoughts, and often despite them—uncompromisingly, fearlessly turning your back on all else that speaks untrue to you. And this is different for everyone, I think. For me, it led me to the woods. You must be completely honest and fearless. And you crawl down that hole created turning your back on the untrue to you. Something like that, it goes.
And then you are disconnected in whatever way you're meant to be disconnected. Me, I was in the woods. And now, you must live in that hole you've created, however it looks. You must find content, doing only that which you must do. You'll find exactly what it is that you must do, down there in that hole, removed of all distractions now. Because you must do it, you can't help. This is your purpose. And now, your purpose found, you find content easily enough.
Now you climb out of that hole. You know what you must do now. Life crashes down all round you again, society. But you know now what's true, what's not. And you ignore the noise. You live content, living your purpose, and you create life round that, uncompromisingly. You been down in that hole. You'll be okay no matter what now, you know.
And you are a druid—or whatever, some other mythical being perhaps. And your job is whatever it is now. But you want more druids too, unique individuals. Everyone must be like a druid,—or whatever—a whole community of unique individuals, all climbing atop eachother's ever-growing shoulders, and jumping, all together. So everyone must run through their own forest, out the other end to their own unique outcome.
We become the gatekeepers of a new society, we druids. We emerge from out the woods ourselves, to the front of the forest. Hooded, we sit waiting on some stump for some approaching wanderers. We allow all who are stripped of the illusions of society to enter the forest behind us. Where, if they survive, out the other side they'll emerge unique, a druid their self, or whatever—collective individuals.