Animal Existence

Two weeks spent in the outback of Europe with some friends who are working to bring back biodiversity.

"Animal is from animus, meaning ‘soul’. Because we neglect this soul, we create bullshit." - Lars Wild

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The vast lands of the Alentejo sweep across Portugal from east to west, covering a larger surface area in the country than any other region. It is mostly empty of human inhabitants, being one of the most sparsely populated places that I have seen in Europe. This is also the allure. I never ended up here intentionally, rather it was through the migration of a group of friends from the hinterlands of the Algarve to a regenerative farm about a hundred kilometres north that subsequently led to my relocation as well. To understand why I ended up here and why I decided to stay so long, it would be necessary to place it within the context of that moment in time. 

At the beginning of 2022, the global trials and tensions caused by covid and the subsequent aftermath of lockdowns were finally reaching a climax. At the time, I had just driven from northern Spain back to England in my beat-up old van to spend Christmas with friends and family, visiting for the first time since I left the UK in 2020. Recent happenings had made me realise that none of us will live forever, and it felt necessary to make the trip in order to reconnect after this disconnecting time. It was the omicron era, where fear and paranoia were running at an all-time high. I distinctly remember crossing on the ferry through Calais on my return to Europe, being unenthusiastically greeted by a team of French border agents who were trying to assess the validity of the Portuguese residency. Thanks to the straining effort of their five combined brains, they allowed me to pass through and into France undeterred, albeit unwillingly. The rules are the rules, and they had to let me in. I had some degree of time pressure since my reason for heading back was due to the technical inspection on my van being due. Another instance of arbitrary bureaucracy. A breakdown in the Basque country hindered progress (a rather dramatic incident with a blown radiator hose that resulted in steam pouring out of my windows while I was driving) but I made it with a couple of days to spare. Looking for a place to base myself upon returning to the Wild West of Portugal, I contacted some old friends who invited me to stay at an organic farm in southwest Alentejo. 

Those few months were a much needed relief from the chaos that was happening in the world. Multiple lockdowns kept people trapped in their homes while British politicians partied with cheese and wine. In rural Portugal, we created a semi-incubated state where the chaos of the outside world stayed beyond the periphery. We embraced nuanced conversation and open dialogue — a reprieve from the propaganda being forced down our throats, and the subsequent social annihilation that followed from others who were unable to think critically or acknowledge different perspectives. Beyond covid, I began to feel inspired by others who were also trying to find a different approach — those had also lost faith in our political, economic and social systems. It was a further introduction into a way of living which has shaped my path significantly. The people were why I returned, as well as the reason why I stayed.

In Alentejo, I met many inspiring individuals who were working to remedy our broken relationship with the natural world — mainly through regenerative agriculture. One of those people is Lars Wild. 

A name given by birth, actually pronounced "Vild" due to his Swiss-German origins, the anglicised version serves well to compliment his personality and values. This is a man who lives to plant trees. I often make jokes about his enthusiasm for regeneraive agriculture through hypothesising about what his own merchandise line would look like, with phrases like “Make Soil Great Again” or some other satirical play on a number of popular political phrases.

Inspired by Syntropic farming principles, he creates diverse forests that draw upon the principles of ecological succession — the idea that each species fills an ecological niche, playing its part in a wider ecosystem as it evolves from rocky landscape to mature forest. With the Syntropic method, an approach created by a man named Ernst Gôtsch, it’s possible to create diverse food forests which provide a vast array of fruits, nuts and vegetables, all in a a colourful consortium of wildness. Gôtsch is best known for his work in transforming desertified landscapes in Brazil into thriving, biodiverse food forests. It's an approach that offers a remedy towards the malaise of industrial agriculture, chemical farming and soil erosion. It's as much a shift in philosophy as it is in practice. This is also the approach that in my opinion seems to makes the most sense. It’s a way of cultivating an attitude of symbiosis which we desperately lack, That is why I decided to head back to Alentejo at the end of last year to spend a couple weeks with Lars and his partner Denise, both good friends of mine, in order to get my hands dirty and soak up some regenerative farming wisdom.

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I stare out of the plane window at the view below, the clouds rippled and patterned in the sky, forming a fluffy blanket of perfectly curved ripples. A few thousand feet below, I can make out the textured creases and lines of the Atlantic ocean, a dark carpet of navy blue, almost unrecognisable when viewed from such a high perspective.

For someone who has had to cultivate a strong sense of patience when travelling, this journey across the sky feels particularly slow. I pass the time by reading and watching as the clouds shape-shift into intriguing formations. The previous ripples have now transformed into continental clusters, broken up by rivers of blue that weave through the moisture like a complex formation of hills and valleys.

I arrive during a cold snap across Europe — where the northern countries are dusted with snow and freezing temperatures. Here along the Atlantic coast, it’s very damp and cold, the kind of chill that gets deep inside your bones. We spend the evening catching up on each other’s news, sheltering from the winter in a house that has the same insulation qualities as a medieval shack: the pleasure of Portuguese accommodation during winter. The plan is to establish some winter vegetable beds using no-dig gardening methods, an approach which aims to not disturb the existing soil and instead add to it through applying layers of cardboard (to suppress the weeds and grass beneath) followed by manure and compost (for nitrogen) and wood chips (for carbon). The joy of working with Lars is that aside from the informative angle of learning about regenerative agriculture, you can also be entertained through his eloquent use of the English language, made even better through his Swiss-German accent: "How beautifully designed, just to make a bloody fucking seed!"

The philosophy that Lars embodies is that of fully trusting in the intelligence nature to offer the correct path forward. It is a philosophy of humility, a refreshing contrast to the anthropocentric worldview that is predominant in our world today — insisting that technology, industry and bureaucratic regulations will save us from the damage that we have collectively inflicted upon ourselves and the planet. It is an echo of the attitudes that are reflected in the culture of rural and alternative living that exists in Portugal — that self sufficiency and personal responsibility are essential qualities in order to create a regenerative future. This attitude is informed by a systems-based approach. Instead of looking at individual parts, it's about understanding the role of the part within the whole. Instead of categorising plants into good and bad, it's about knowing what role each individual species serves or which ecological niche is trying to fill.

The nature of this work means that it requires a lot of humility and patience. The days can be repetitive but when viewed in a long-term perspective, it becomes apparent how rewarding it is to play a small part in a much wider and beautiful ecosystem. It exists in contradiction to how modern humanity has evolved: to exploit, manipulate and extract. When it doesn't happen as fast as we want to, use bigger machinery. If pests emerge that threaten the harvest, add more chemicals. This problem-oriented approach does little to serve our best interests in the long-term, especially with the rapid increase in ocean acidification and the soil depletion. We need a better way — one that is informed by an ecocentric attitude instead of egocentric: the current default mode of humanity. Aside from the philosophical components, it’s also just intrinsically fulfilling to create a greater sense of self-sufficiency.

We bail into the old Mitsubishi pick-up and Lars asks if I want to drive, such is his aversion to industrial machinery. Heading down the rutted track we pull up at the manure pile which we begin to shovel into the back of the truck. I stop and point out a dandelion growing from the top of the manure, the king of the castle. Lars smiles and says "If someone looks for the meaning of life, observe the shit." I would have to agree. 

The local area is an interesting one, to say the least. It is a hub for alternative living of every sort, ranging from hardline hippies to van-based, remote working surfers. With “projects” labelled with utopian names, it creates high expectations for such places to be some kind of ecological paradise. The reality often falls short of the mark: a collection of beat-up camper vans parked on degraded land, a makeshift cabin somewhere as a central hub, and a general sense of chaos and lack of organisation is usually consistent with these alternative living communities. Such is the reason that makes the place of Lars and Denise a relief of sorts — walking the talk, so to speak, and believe me, there are a lot of people around here that do a lot of talking with very little to show for it. Often revolving around the typical hippie topics of criticising the “system” or how “money is the root of all evil”, yet offering no alternative model or embodying a different way of living — mostly sitting around and smoking weed all day. It’s easy to talk, but as we say in England, the proof is in the pudding.

Perhaps one of the more surprising qualities of Lars is his emphasis on beauty and pleasure as a means of inspiring motivation to take action. It is a combination of both masculine and feminine qualities that can create outcomes which are truly balanced and holistic. It is an emphasis on the importance of being process-oriented as well as outcome-oriented. In our modern world,  the presiding attitude is largely swung into masculinity to such extremes that it can often be harmful — examples shown through our extractive economical models, corporate structures and political ideologies. On a microcosmic level, this approach towards agriculture could be seen as a potential blueprint for the future — one that amplifies the importance of humility, beauty and most importantly, following the guidance and wisdom of nature. 

When working in the garden, whether that is planting veggies or implementing tree lines for a future food forest, there is a distinct sense of a return to the state of instinct. It is a feeling that reminds me of the same enjoyment derived from outdoor adventures of any kind — a combination of movement, breath, simplicity. It reconnects us with a vital aspect of our being, something primordial. This ancient sense is something that many of us have lost touch with but are beginning to feel the call to return to. The essence of our ancestors is encoded within our DNA, which I believe to carry a simple and profound message: come back down to earth and learn to participate in symbiosis once again. Free yourselves from the shackles of consumerism and materialism. Observe the seasons, learn from nature, and most importantly: cultivate a sense of being — the state that cannot be extracted, manipulated or exploited. Beyond our programmed needs for being productive and constantly striving, this is the quiet and peaceful place which exists within all of us, and nature will show us the way if we are willing to pay attention, listen, and be still.

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While staying with Denise and Lars in Alentejo, I decided to jump on board with their team and help design their website and coordinate the creative direction for their non--profit organisation: Wild Forest Garden. Feel free to check it out down below if you’re interested.

wildforestgarden.com