The wild man within
‘Abandoning yourself to wildness turns out to be the most harmonious and generative thing you can do,’ wrote Steve Biddulph in his best selling book Manhood. Matthew Smeal explores this concept in relation to ocean swimming.
Lone swimmer getting in touch with his ‘wild man’. Manly Beach, Sydney, Australia ©Matthew Smeal
Few people would argue that connecting with the outdoors is essential for our mental health. Fresh air, nature, the environment, and being away from the usual four walls and nine-to-five monotony can only be good for us. But is there something deeper going on?
Few activities offer more complete connection to nature than ocean swimming. There is a vulnerability and risk: you are in the elements, you are in a wild marine environment with everything that that entails: sharks and dolphins; bluebottles and other stingers; turtles, fish, stingrays…they are all visible and close. There is nothing to hold on to. You rely solely on your own ability. There is cold water, large swells, strong rips, and pounding waves. All need to be understood and negotiated. And, there is warm water, flat seas, a true sense of accomplishment, and the laughter of friends.
‘The most creative men are close to the Wild Man and borrow his power’
Biddulph
But ocean swimming’s vulnerability and connection, speak to what Steve Biddulph referred to in his bestselling book Manhood as your wild man. It is equally applicable to women.
‘Abandoning yourself to wildness turns out to be the most harmonious and generative thing you can do. When we are good, we are okay, but when we are “wild” we are geniuses,’ he wrote.
‘Any man who makes or builds things, who creates a garden, who plays a jazz instrument, who has ever been a lover, knows that you are better when you “let go” and follow your impulses. Natural rhythms within us take over and bring out our real talents. Our love of trees, the outback, waves and water, animals, growing things, music, children and women, all stem from our wild nature. The most creative men are close to the Wild Man and borrow his power.’
Fascinating stuff!
According to poet, essayist, activist and Men’s Movement leader, Robert Bly, ‘The aim is not to be the wild man, but to be in touch with the wild man.’
My wild man swims beside me. I feel him, I sense him. I can touch him. But there is a pack of wild men and wild women all around me – the ocean is alive with an electric pulse of wildness: scores of men and women, each swimming alone but moving as one in the pre-dawn darkness, their wild person almost visible beside them as ethereal phosphorescence. There is something very profound, very natural, very primeval happening in that moment.
‘In the presence of nature a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.’
Emerson
There is a lot that could be said here about ritual, initiation, tribal community, and acceptance. It is certainly worth exploring. Suffice to say that these are critical elements of humankind that if ignored or misunderstood, can play out in harmful ways. I am reminded of Thoreau’s concern that, ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation’ but also of Emerson who wrote, ‘In the presence of nature a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.’
When we embrace that wildness, we tap into something that is hard-wired into each of us. In modern city life it can be too easily lost, ignored, forgotten, or covered up. Yet uncovering that primeval wildness is invigorating. It is life affirming. It is natural. Like staring into a log fire, it is just right and has been for millennia.
The modern life has killed the wild man and wild woman. Life today can be sterile and very contained as we move from comfortable home to comfortable office and back again via comfortable transport. Our ability to confront and mitigate risk in the ways of our ancestors is a dwindling enterprise; hunting and gathering food is a trip to the supermarket; staying warm or cooling down is only a remote control away. Entertainment is on the couch watching Netflix. Even a COVID-19 lockdown can be a mere inconvenience requiring a few work and lifestyle changes. Our need or desire to ‘live deliberately’, to quote Thoreau again, has become a desire to ‘live conveniently’ or perhaps, to do nothing more than to ‘live comfortably’.
But inside each of us is a wild man or wild woman yearning to get out. An inner desire to connect with the earth and be tested: to feel the ground under our feet, not office carpet; to feel the wind and the waves and the salt spray against our bodies, not air conditioning; to know vulnerability and fear, yet self-reliance and the ability to overcome.
‘Water—the ocean—is our most natural environment.’
Mayol
There is a reason Earth is called the ‘Blue Planet’ – it is mainly ocean. And without the ocean, there would be no life on Earth. The ocean produces more than half of the world’s oxygen and regulates our climate and weather patterns. It also stores 50 times more carbon dioxide than the atmosphere.
The ocean’s survival ensures our own.
Jacques Mayol, the legendary free diver and the central character in Luc Besson’s 1988 film The Big Blue, wrote about humans’ innate connection to the ocean. ‘Water—the ocean—is our most natural environment. We were born naked from the miniature ocean of the mother’s womb.’
The ocean is a good place to get to know.
So, why do we swim? Because the ocean is where we find our wild man; and it is where we find ourselves.
For you mate
It’s nice when friends care. Sometimes a simple note can mean more than intended.
A friend sent me something the other day. It was one of those well-meaning Facebook memes designed to comfort, encourage, and put a smile on people’s faces.
Why he sent it to me is perhaps a story for another time, so I won’t go into it now. But the message came with three simple words that meant so much more to me than what was in the meme: ‘For you mate’.