Strictly speaking, we are living more and more in a bubble. Considering the current size of humanity, city life is so restricted that it’s unnatural. Everything, from our body, our shapes and our mind are designed for us to live near nature.
Indeed, we tend to watch over our origins, the ones that are related to the forests, the countryside, the deserts or mountains. We no longer touch the trees lightly, step on the grass or feel fresh air coming from the wilderness.
Thus, we are disconnected with nature which fosters us to act irrationally or cynically. Because we are mainly accustomed to non-nature (concrete, steel, plastics …) or dead nature (wood, dead animal called meat etc.), we are fooled and consequently ignore our true nature. We are overwhelmed by the noise of cities which then leads us to look for more stimulation through bars, clubs and shopping. Since we aren’t fulfilled by the city lifestyle, we desperately try to recover from the daily harm that we may undergo, but often in vain.
Cattle’s life instead of free animal’s one
City life is safer, and we may actually live longer than in the wild nature. Evolution and replication operate in a different way. An intellectual may not survive in a jungle as well as a great animal hunter may not be capable of integrating into the social codes of a city and then will have to live by himself and die in solitude.
Modern societies are built to encourage specialization which allows individuals fit into a particular role. The lack of nature? provokes a form of ignorance of what our DNA had carried until now. By repressing some of our skills that aren’t applicable to city life, the ones needed in hunter-gatherer’s life, we tend to repress a source of simple joy and satisfaction.
Because we have actually lost freedom by accepting a city life in exchange for security, we may not experience the joy and happiness of our ancestors but rather the ones of livestock which are gathered in a farm in a cold winter, glad to be alive, though a bit too tight in a crowded warehouse.
