Category Archives: The Heroic Life

December 19, 2012

I Abandon Refuge in the Dharma

By Drew Jacob

Photo by Miss Cartier

 

I abandon refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha.

I exit the temple door. There is nowhere to spend three jewels, no beggar to receive them.

Merit earned by chanting cannot be given to those who do not chant.

 

I abandon refuge in the Buddha:

To exist is not to suffer,

It is to struggle, and that’s different.

 

I abandon refuge in the Dharma:

To quiet your desire cannot save you,

because desire is not the enemy.

 

I abandon refuge in the Sangha:

Their ship is built to sail a thousand lifetimes,

but the shoal will hit in 60 years.

 

There is no soul in this frame,

It is only earth and blood.

It hungers and I feed it,

It lusts and I turn to another.

I take risks for love, I walk across the world.

With blistered feet I sing joyful songs.

 

I abandon refuge,

I exit the temple door.

Let no man want what he already has.

—

Several readers have asked me to add a donate button. You can now donate! There are even postcards. Have a look. Thank you for all you do. 

22 comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Religion, The Heroic Life

November 28, 2012

How You Can Share the Heroic Life

By Drew Jacob

Photo by James Windsor

To chase the Heroic Life is to adventure. To live free, travel as you wish, pursue your art, gleefully face challenges and—always—carry your ideals above you.

This may be a solitary life.

It has been for me. I have a vision of changing that. Seekers, first two or three, then six or eight, then dozens, who travel in loose bands to seek out challenge and choose their fates.

And what will these brave, questioning, wanderlust souls need?

Humanity.

The Heroic Life is not the only way. For every itinerant adventurer there must be a thousand happy householders. The myth of my generation is that everyone wants to travel, everyone wants to adventure. But they don’t. For some it’s not practical, it holds no appeal.

But everyone can share in the Heroic Life. Wandering or settled, errant or rooted, daring or careful: everyone is part of the story.

Sharing What We Have

One conceit of the Heroic Faith is that travel is a spiritual practice. It changes the course of lives, teaches what nothing else will teach, and leads the wanderer to a sense of purpose.

I believe that. I live it.

And I learned that my travels don’t just change me—they can change the people around me.

I came into towns sweaty, tired, feeling broken and ready to sleep. I didn’t feel inspiring. I was grateful for what people gave me, and for what basic comforts I could bring with me.

In the morning I was told: We will never forget you.

In some way that I can’t plan or understand, the very fact of what I’m doing affects people.

I experienced the other side of this, too. In St. Louis and Vicksburg I stayed with other travelers. One, a brilliant photographer, had quit her job to travel around the United States taking pictures. In some ways her story is so similar to mine, in other ways so different (she’s a better planner, for one). But just meeting her and knowing that she was on her quest inspired me, filled me with ideas and hopes.

Travelers have momentum. And we share.

An Even Exchange

If you are not inclined, able, or ready to drop your lifestyle and travel, here is how you can share the Heroic Life: help a traveler.

When you help a traveler, two things happen.

First, you make an immediate and dramatic impact in a human life. Travelers of all kinds, wealthy and boot-strapped alike, have uncertainty in their lives. No amount of money makes up for the freak storm, the broken axel, the missed connection. And no grand hotel can promise that most basic sustenance, human contact.

Helping a traveler reminds them that they are not alone in the world.

At the same time, the traveler has a chance to share with you something they couldn’t share with anyone else. There is no connection as profound as an evening with someone on a different path. When I stayed with a fierce conservative, I felt no hatred for his politics: only a deep sympathy for the loss of his wife. He taught me lessons about love, grief, and the bravery to carry on.

When you first open your door to a traveler, they will be hesitant. They want to make sure they don’t overstep, want to check that you don’t feel obligated.

When they see that the offer is made with love, the traveler will feel a sense of refuge. Something as simple as a shower or a beer can be a poignant reminder of the goodness in the world.

And as they replenish they will begin to share with you, and learn eagerly what you have to share.

We carry our gods with us, but where do we find them? In the voices and actions of the people who treat us with love.

There are many ways to help a traveler. Pull over on the roadside when you see a breakdown. Talk to backpackers, bicyclists and hobos when you see them. Register with Couchsurfing.org and offer your floor or couch or spare bed for a night.

In the end, no one is a hero. But we can always choose to help each other. That is the great strength of our species, and the reason I love humanity.

Has anyone ever helped you when you didn’t expect it?

I’m writing my first novella. The end of summer, a failing crop, the desperate touch of an uncertain lover—and magic. Lúnasa Days.

8 comments   |  tags: , , | posted in Adventure, The Heroic Life, Travel

October 30, 2012

My Secret Religion

By Drew Jacob

Photo by Vicki Ashton

Recently I defined what polytheism means. But my beliefs are in flux: on top of polytheism I consider the Heroic Faith my religion, and it’s still unformed.

When people ask me what I’m a priest of, it’s hard to answer. How do you explain a faith that doesn’t exist yet? Here’s my best attempt:

I don’t have a strong sense of faith. I seldom pray. What inspires me is heroism and sacrifice, which are how humanity endures. I believe every single person has the spark of heroism. It’s the ability to stand up when no one else will.

I want to know how that spark is kindled, and how we keep that flame burning bright.

That’s why I’m on this journey.

This is the very edge of my ability to explain my beliefs. The conversation seldom gets this far—most people either don’t talk about religion, or want to tell me their own views. And me? I listen with care. Mine is the journeyman, not the master; I have no sermon to deliver. I am here to learn.

But sometimes they truly want to know what I believe. And that helps me figure it out.

I’m writing my first novella. It has magic spells, happy corn, sad farmers, and desperate fucking. Lúnasa Days.

4 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Religion, The Heroic Life

October 15, 2012

Strive for Beauty and Humanity

By Drew Jacob

What if I don’t make it?

I asked this 14 minutes into my Adventure. And 2 hours in. Again that night and first thing in the morning. What if I fail?

Writing this I sit in a sunlit library in historic Natchez, Mississippi.

Talvin Singh floats in my ears (soundtrack!). My bicycle stands ready to eat up the road. My host, a seventy year old antique dealer, promises a send-off breakfast.

And gods willing, in a few days I’ll bike into bustling New Orleans. I’ll unite with missing friends and lwas and put down roots for the winter.

Save Point

I have a hard time believing I came this far. But I always believed. I get a break now, a time to rest and write my words, but I will go on, ever on, till I meet the gods. Till I find my fate and affix my mark to the world.

Before I return to that maelstrom, that uncertainty of the road, I must record what I’ve seen. If my journey leads me to peril, at least this much is preserved. So here is what I found:

Humanity is essentially Good.

To be human is to desire friends, love, kin. You cannot get that unless you offer it. So our most private desire demands that we act morally.

This is probabilistic. Like Wikipedia, it’s correct overall but not in every case. You can find an article full of bullshit; you can find a human being with criminal intent. But if you gamble on it, taken on the whole, you’ll come out ahead: the information is right, and the people you meet are Good.

A stranger is someone just like you, who wants to be liked and cares about your wellbeing.

This crosses all lines. Race, political faction, age will change what a person sees when you meet. But it does not change that core desire, or the behavior it demands. It does not undermine the beauty of the human heart.

It’s how our ancestors survived. Alone, separated from the tribe, if you saw a fire and smelt cooked meat, you hoped and prayed these strange people would share; and if you sat by your fire and roasted your meat, you would feel sad and alone to hoard it.

Abandon any scripture, any faith that starts with sin.

We are not born with sin; we do not harbor sin deep within our being. We are seeds that love the sun, growing ever upward toward it. We can be bent and twisted by an unfair wind, but most will reach forever toward that light.

I have crossed 1,600 miles by myself: a short distance. I have knocked on doors, visited churches, leaned against trees and slept in the rain. I have been hungry, tired, injured, and fevered. I have gone places where I felt alone, and strange. The only pale-skinned person in a camp of dark-skinned people; the northern voice in a drawling Southern town.

And the only priest of the old gods.

These are not accomplishments. They’re challenges. One does not seek these situations, one only accepts them as necessary hurdles along a greater Journey.

But during those moments, those unwanted moments of fear, I have been taught every time and without fail: people are Good.

Do you disagree? Then travel further than me. Go to stranger places. Be more alone, be more different, be needier than I was. Place yourself in that position of ultimate vulnerability, alone and helpless among strangers, and find out for yourself. If humanity lets you down, I consider your point proven. But every day I have tested it, and never found my fellows lacking.

In his garden, the antique dealer stenciled words from Isaac Stern:

“Strive for Beauty and Humanity.”

Like a ship seeking safe landing, it is a search you can never give up. You have no choice, you must push on. Turn from the cold winds of cynicism and cast your eyes upon the distant shore.

Strive always for Beauty and Humanity.

23 comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Religion, The Great Adventure, The Heroic Life

September 14, 2012

Is it the Heroic Faith?

By Drew Jacob

Project Conversion just ran an essay I wrote on the Heroic Faith. I share some of the personal aspects of why I came to believe in heroism in the first place—and why I think so many people don’t. You can read it here:

The Heroic Faith: Can Adventure Be a Religion?

Notably, this is the first time I’ve referred to my philosophy as the Heroic Faith and not the Heroic Life. I’ve been testing out this term lately, and it’s gotten a few questions. You may know I have more than a few reservations about the entire idea of “faith.”

But give it a read and tell me—does it feel more natural? Is “faith” a better fit?

22 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Spotlight, The Heroic Life

July 5, 2012

At the Edge of Something Greater

By Drew Jacob

Sometimes, you have to want it.

I’ve never been a hero. Never. And I might spend a whole life adventuring and never reach that state. I don’t really care.

What matters to me is the power that heroism has over my own heart. If it wasn’t for the stories of great heroes I heard growing up, I wouldn’t be out here adventuring today.

And that’s the beauty: I may not be a hero, but I’m definitely an adventurer. The thrill of exploration is a song I hear on the wind.

Some smart people have told me that the ancient myths were not real value systems, because the average warrior can’t be Achilles. To me that’s missing the point. The myths are powerful proscriptions because the average warrior can love Achilles. They can yearn to be like him, and while only a few succeed, tens of thousands improve the world (and their happiness) by trying.

A heroic faith then has very little to do with becoming a hero, and everything to do with the inspiration that heroes give us. For me that inspiration is so powerful that it’s brought me to the edge of everything I love. I have given it all up to be here. I own a knife, a hatchet, and a pack full of tools: I surrendered everything.

And I never second guessed it, because for the first time in my life things felt right.

It can make you believe in fate, this feeling. What else can it be, when everything in your soul is yearning toward one end?

It’s a journeyman’s quest. It’s the love of my art that pulls me forward. I’m not even sure I can name what that art is, though to say writing would come close. I just know here is a tremendous spirit inside of me that’s waiting to be let out, a story that I’m supposed to tell. I don’t know what the story is yet, but it’s waiting to be told and I am the one to tell it.

There’s beauty in chasing your purpose. Like an illusionist, it has you cheering for something you don’t understand. But like a lover from the other world it has a plan for you and you’re eager to be complicit.

Life is precious, my friends. Minutes are expensive. Please, put them toward the things you truly love.

17 comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Adventure, Heroism, The Heroic Life

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