CFC Blog #133: Why The Woods

Jaime's blog is a call-back to cooler weather in the fall season. It reminds me of many days I've had myself back in NY when my only remedy after a stressful day is the healing tranquility that is rooted in nature. It's amazing how many answers I feel I can receive from the utter silence of the brush. 

- Amanda

Why The Woods

I never know what I come for, I just know I must come. 

The forest is a painting of patchy yellows and browns, peeking with red, and yet quickly fading with the time of seasons. The messy array of oak, maple and tulip tree leaves on my path is a most beautiful canvas that I brush intuitively with my feet. I often find ourselves in conversation here - the limbs, the bark, the fleeing birds, the silence, and me. We cross over the portion that is a creepy crawling mess of tree roots destined to twist ankles and I locate myself in the map my mind has created of these woods we’ve walked so many times now - monster & me. I know where I am. I know who I am, easily in here. 

This isn’t always the case.  

Cash turns to make sure I’m still coming. Dogs have a way of bringing us back to the present. So many solo walks, discovering bird feathers and hawk calls together. Chats about life’s challenges and life’s wonders. I don’t stop after speaking to think “was that stupid, what I said?” like I sometimes do when I’m around others. 

I bend to touch a mushroom that I think will be soft, but its sturdy.  I’m not afraid of making mistakes here. 

We listen to the inevitable trickle of the stream by the bend, and the spontaneous wind on an autumn evening; Here, the answer always arrives. 

We race the sun to the horizon and lately we have to pick up our pace, in order to have a fair chance. I know it’s smart to get out before dark, but the truth is, no fear lives in me here. It’s where I feel most free. 

Distracted by a thousand thoughts of a day full of responding to the needs of others, I never know, entering, why I’ve come. But when I emerge from my agenda-free frolic in the forest, I don’t find myself thinking at all; Instead, I walk out well-aware of my existing, and I must say, this feels a much better way to walk.