A highway is not a path. It is not the fastest most expedient route between two locations. On a highway we are in a hurry to get to our destination, we cut a violent right angle through the tissue of life. On a path we walk slowly with our senses awake. This is a path and not a highway, and a highway is the negation of path. The destination is not important, you can leave behind you projected future here. And when you get to the end of the road you might find that there are miles to go.

A highway is the negation of a path, a labor of love. In the management systems of the world, they have given you a superhighway, and called it work and education. On that superhighway, you go so fast you miss everything, the birdsong, the rain on the window. On that superhighway there are many promises and many goals. Yet even if you are one of the few to be invited to the party, the wedding cake is a mirages, your kingdom tastes of ashes. You look back with nostalgia, at that forest, at that windy lake, at that landscape of youth that you have left behind and you ask: what has it all been for? How did get into this vehicle?

You are charmed and blinkered on that superhighway. Your are programmed and reprogrammed, constantly amused, completely encumbered. Your time is maximised for profit and control. You fill up your days going through formatted non-adventure. Your being never rests in time and space which is cut up into segments. You are evaluated and rewards are given for your co-operation. Your sleep is full of fitful dreams, where you repeats the anxieties and fragments of a controlled life. It is a state of never being fully awake and never having clear luminous rest. You are always moving forward in that iron vehicle: closer and closer to oblivion, at any moment you might crash.

The education management work superhighway frames people, builds them up to their perceived level of competence, and leaves them hanging in one cage or another. Yet your life, your creativity always happens outside the frame, outside the cage. There is always a creative path outside formatting. Outside the obsessive control and surveillance of individuals, outside this formatted education and the lack of path and adventure. Outside the minutia: the ‘a network of small complicated rules which cover the surface of life’ to quote de Tocqueville.

In this climate, one has to re-discover adventure. Adventure here does not mean going on packaged vacations to see exotic people and landscapes. That is mostly just another kind of formatted, non-adventure, not life, non-world — you get a bit of an orgasm in a simulated pleasure bubble. But a real adventure could take place in one room, or in observing a drop of dew on a leaf. Adventure is opening up perception to what is, already here: alive and vibrant.

A world, is not an assemblage of disparate things, but the space in which the presence of the world can unveil itself. It is not what we think. We are not subjects looking at objects. We are not thinking boxes. We are not lumbering robots. We are something all together more shocking and beautiful.

The forward thrust of most of our programs of progress are fundamentally destructive: making the world less and less of a world, an immonde. ‘Immonde’ is the french word, which mean ignoble, sordid and repugnant — a non-world. A world were technique, control and machines dominate — and superhighways are build in every corner of the earth, and soon in the sky and on the ocean floor. There is seems to be no limit to the destructive capacity of man; and yet there is still a world, there are paths, there is adventure, there is subversion.

A path makes a world. In a world is there is the possibility of being undressing itself, of revelation and high adventure.