“The most beautiful animals are happy animals,” Roeselien told Bored Panda. “I love them best when they’re totally at ease: free from pain, fear, cold, hunger or any other discomfort. . . . Of course they have their duties calling as well. But once that rabbit is consumed, the territory defined and important things taken care of like procreation and upbringing, it’s time to relax.
“There’s a contradiction going on when it comes to capturing Zen Foxes [on film]: the harder you try, the more you’ll move away from your goal. If you are too eager, an animal will sense that eagerness and will remain alert,” she said. “I learned to do as foxes do, just being there and see what might happen. And in the mean time, I just enjoy smelling some fresh air and feeling the sun on my skin.”
Roeselien Raimond quoted in ‘Zen Foxes: photographer documents wild foxes enjoying themselves‘, at Bored Panda, September 10th, 2015
Nose in the air, ears pricked for whispers on the wind, fur rippling imperceptibly. How well-equipped for the opportune time-out!
Source: Bored Panda. Photo by Roeselien Raimond
To segue from one happy, beautiful mammal to another. . . mammal. Being fulfilled and at ease in nature is our birthright, too – if the concept of a “right” isn’t too out-of-place here.
The literature on successful, surviving forest peoples suggests that they generally “work” no more than around four hours a day. I’d vote for that. Aside from taking care of necessities, there’s a lot of easing off, aimlessly exploring, enjoying company. Playtime. Mmm. Must remember: this unnatural fetish for hard work – “hardworking families” and all that – is just a by-product of the bizarre ant-colony culture we inadvertently fashioned for ourselves.
I still wonder how we came to trade-in wildness for domestication. We turned our backs on open country in return for compounds, farms and crowded settlements. For managed space and cramped interiors. For soul-sapping labour and hideous hierarchies. For boundaries in every direction, and always being afraid of what’s on the other side. Over the course of generations, it also meant we traded-in our healthy, vigorous, natural selves for stunted, disease-racked bodies and. . . well, what must have happened to our minds? We can only imagine.
In retrospect, we stepped out of the generous wild and onto a man-made treadmill of unsatiated desire, a cult of more-is-never-enough, which has brought us to this sorry pass. Why did we do that? I don’t suppose it matters, now. I don’t suppose it could ever be reversed. But you have to wonder. As if piecing together the story might make some tiny difference. . .