The Woods are Deep.

Everytime my feet touch the soft leaf and needle padded floors of the deep woods, my senses come alive. Aromas of fir, pine, cedar, and dozens of other trees and native shrubs, moss, lichen and flowers begin to envelop me. I may arrive in the sunlight, yet as I slowly walk into the woods, shadows of towering trees overshadow me and hold me in their native arms. As the scents hold me spellbound, it is the deep silence that beckons and lures me in. There may be the occational creaking of overhead branches or the chirp of a bird dodging through damp undergrowth, but it is the silence that speaks the loudest.

Everything within my consciousness rushes up in front of me like a flock of birds. The silence is so powerful and resounding its waves of energy reverberate my thoughts and feelings. It is then that I realize that a spinning repetition of my mindless thoughts and feelings has been cycling until that moment. The silence disrupts it and reveals all of its meaninglessness and futility. The is the depth and power of the woods. I am powerless to its insightfulness which reveals my incoherence with its own balance and awareness.

I take of my shoes and socks. Leaving them on the trailhead, I don’t care if they are there when I return. It’s a small price to pay if they’re gone when I return. I am entering what feels like home, though it’s been a while. I don’t worry if I am remembered here because there is no other place that truly feels like home to me. Like returning to an eternal womb, every part of my consciousness seems to at once evaporate and yet, be infused to overflowing with a universal awareness. The path is easy, soft and welcoming. The oils of the discarded leaves and moss, needles and soil seep into my skin. They tickle my toes and snuggle my arch. Soon my skin is stained green and brown. In the distance, the echo of a low throated raven chuckles and then caws. After a few clicks it takes flight and though I can not see it within the canopy above I can hear its wings flapping. Something zooms past me. Turning I see a small spunky bird hopping across a dead truck of an old cedar, the host of budding mushrooms. Their round hats white and soft.

My mind clears easily. It always did as a child as well. Whatever experiences that may have held my attention, like the adventures of a well written book or comic, the woods always enchanted my young mind. Over the years if I was perplexed or challenged by changes in my life I would find myself seeking the cleansing bath of the energies and smells, peacefulness and unspoken awareness of the woods. Unlike our human lives that can change so abruptly, the woods reside in pure splendor unchanged having reached their mature majestic state.

I have fond memories of slowly following creatures as they walked or flew through the woods, catching mere glimpses of their wing or tail feathers, hind quarters or graceful limbs. Deer, elk, jays, magpies, hawks, eagles, wrens, chickadees, blue birds, robins, black birds, owls, foxes, coyotes, bobcats, squirrels, marmots, porcupine, muskrats, opposums, bears, and dozens of insects, reptiles, frogs, salamanders and so many others. Each of them unique, all of them calling the woods home and forever at ease within it, though I always felt a stranger.

But stranger or not, the woods always welcomes me. It is forgiving, and doesn’t judge my fragile humanness. I don’t know if it sees me fully, knows me as one of those who enter and invade, gather and take away its resources. No, when I enter here, I am only offered peace and ease, wonder and fulfillment. Like one lost, my return seems celebrated in some unspoken way blessed with the pure sweetness that the woods offers all who enter here. It’s shadows, blankets that surround and hold me. It’s dappled light, intuitive sparkles of enchantment inviting my curiosity. The shifting dance of interwoven pathways trodden and untrodden beckoning me to enter unknown playgrounds of ferns, magnolia and wild grape. Hidden florals whisper behind damp trunks, below boulders and leaves keeping company with mushrooms of every sort. The chirp and squawk of frogs and toads expanding the undercurrent of silences that seems as thick as mud, as quiet salamanders of deep browns and rust slowly wiggle over lichen beds.

Shadows mark the transformation of the afternoon to evening. The stillness turns to deep hushes, creatures knestling, slowing down. Preening as they ponder their dreams. The moon dissolves the daylight turning it deep violets. It’s glow caressing the tree tops, branches and trunks, dappled and misted over the final travelers of bush and branch.

An owl bellows low as its hoot travels outward and turns into a whisper. A wise word in flight disappearing in the quietness. My feet tenderly touch down again slowly. I am home. No longer a human, I leave all that I know and open my soul to be born as the woods would create me to be. My heart gently beats held by the irreverent power of the wood’s unspoken intelligence, awareness infused with unconditional love unbound. The owl’s call like a subtle wave returns to my mind unheard by my ears. Then I observe it. Alone on a protruding branch the owl rests perfectly still but even as my eyes struggle to clearly see it, in a bound, it quickly takes flight, turns and disappears into the shadows. The soft thunder of its wings the only echo of its presence. My lungs suck in the thick healing scents around me.

I travel further and further, once again. The woods are deep.