Wandering Ascetic

Wandering isn't drifting, though the world might call it so.

If wandering wasn't often associated with aimlessness or lack of purpose, then it'll probably be among those revered practices of self-discovery and intentional solitude.

In choosing to move through the world without being tethered to its demands, you're more or less seeking clarity that doesn't require a map or a destination.

The ordinary mind doesn't comprehend such a journey and society wouldn't accommodate for those who walk it.

I'm not always lost when I wander around during long walks, nor do I necessarily have a fixed goal in mind. The act is a meditation in itself, for the most part.

Of course, it's not sub-subconscious either. There is an element of intention that guides the wandering, but it's of a different kind than the goal-driven pursuits of everyday life.

Plains Vs. Mountains

In traditional circles, a man of the plains is a lay person or rather a person caught in the current of the everyday, living a life shaped by necessity and convention, if it's fitted more into the modern era.

This is with regards to not knowing the finer details or mysteries of life. The plains, in their vastness, are places of survival and routine, where the immediate concerns of living—work, family, society—take precedence over deeper inquiry.

Sometimes, the plains are places with dense population, the crowd thinks alike, it's hard to exist within and without being burdened by the weight of collective expectations.

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Compared to a mountain, a plain is also a place of accessibility and exposure, lacking the seclusion and challenge that higher altitudes demand.

Plains invite conformity, the mountains demand resilience. One is a place of blending in and the other a call to stand apart.

I think one of the reasons why people carry a sense of reverence for mountains is their sheer presence, this unyielding permanence in a world of constant flux.

They are arguably one of the best places where you can connect with something greater than yourself, call it nature, the divine, or simply the raw pulse of existence.

And this connection is a gateway to knowing yourself and by extension the nature of reality itself.

Basically, man of the mountains is a poetic way of addressing someone who's knowledgeable with regards to the deeper truths of life, compared to man of the plains, who's more or less asleep to those same truths.

Know Thyself

In my view, being in the world but not of it isn't unlike living as a wanderer in your own life. But because wandering isn't traditionally valued in our productivity-obsessed culture, I'd prefer to frame it as mindful presence.

The relevance of old adages in a modern context is rooted in their timeless ability to cut through the noise of progress and remind us of what endures.

Sayings like "know thyself" or "the kingdom of heaven is within" is a reminder for us to not get swallowed into a world that's more distracted than ever. One of my teachers described it as getting caught in a hunter's net.

You know, the modern world doesn't make it easy to live simply or stay grounded.

From what I've learned, today's ascetic do not retreat to a desert or a mountaintop as a way to escape reality.

The mental framework is less about rejecting the world entirely and more about curating what you let in, so you can focus on what matters.

For example, choosing to fast from the endless scroll of social media and rather just read a book or paint a picture.

Also, they could still live in the city, work a job, raise a family, but they do so with a kind of inner detachment.

For me, this is where it gets a bit muddy. How can you put your feet into the ocean and not get wet, not feel the water pulling at your soul?


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