One of my favorite bushcraft sites is the oft-overlooked Ravenlore. The site is very simple, containing information on a number of projects that cover the basics of the craft, such as cooking and cutting. Interspersed throughout the site are stunning photographs that appear as if windows into Arda.

In addition to the site’s excellent and diverse set of information, what appeals to me so much is the manner in which it is presented and organized. It creates a feeling of myth, framing bushcraft as a story that we move through while on the trail. This is important, but undervalued. Joseph Campbell used to say that we were a people without myth. I disagree. I believe that we have an over-abundance of myth. Individuals must pick their own mythology to live within. Bushcraft, when taken as more as just wilderness survival skills, can be part of this.

Your life is a story. Pick up a pen and write it.

(Wayland is also a free-lance viking, pirate, and photographer.)

Thousands of years ago, the work that people did had been broken down into jobs that were the same every day, in organizations where people were interchangeable parts. All of the story had been bled out of their lives. That was how it had to be; it was how you got a productive economy. But it would be easy to see a will at work behind this: not exactly an evil will, but a selfish will. The people who’d made the system thus were jealous, not of money and not of power but of story. If their employees came home at day’s end with interesting stories to tell, it meant that something had gone wrong: a blackout, a strike, a spree killing. The Powers That Be would not suffer others to be in stories of their own unless they were fake stories that had been made up to motivate them. People who couldn’t live without story had been driven into the concents or into jobs like Yul’s. All other had to look somewhere outside of work for a feeling that they were part of a story, which I guessed was why Sæculars were so concerned with sports, and with religion. How else could you see yourself as part of an adventure? Something with a beginning, middle, and end in which you played a significant part?

Neal Stephenson, Anathem

The Christian story of Genesis is a creation myth central to the Western construction of the self. It involves, as its central theme, a fall from grace. As Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit, they gain knowledge. The first flaw they perceive is their own body – the shame of nakedness. The couple is then booted from paradise, their imperfect bodies more suited to imperfect surroundings. In the East, Hinduism sets as a central doctrine a strict caste system of cleanliness, reminding followers daily of their imperfection in relation to each other and the gods. Today, technologists such as the Venturists seek to improve the human condition by achieving immortality. Whether through a fall from grace, our very creation, or simply in our own mortality, humans perceive themselves as imperfect. As a life progresses, these flaws build in both number and import. Children, with innocence not yet lost to the count of years, are seen as closer to perfection. But adults: both in the flesh and in the mind, we are flawed. We seek to perfect these flaws by augmenting our reality. It is a yearning for innocence, not as naivete or lack of guilt, but as a kind of amoral, infinite perfection: the innocence of a god. This quest for innocence is achieved through perfected representations of our selves and through a perfection of our surroundings. At its highest level, our augmented reality reaches a state of hyperreality: the nonreal – its borders blurred – inside the unbounded real.

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