I’m back in the woods for this week’s column — no man, no bear — just me, the birds, the breeze, a large-winged buzzing thing I cannot identify and an owl making several announcements.
What started as wandering is replaced by rest, at least for my body. My mind keeps going — toddling down the path, fully prepared to move on to the next thing before realizing I’ve stayed behind.
Reluctantly floating back to the moment, it settles back with me and the birds and the breeze. Another buzzing thing curiously investigates before buzzing off into the rustling trees.
It’s rare to find this particular variety of quiet — we’re busy or chatty or focused on getting from Point A to Point B. I couldn’t even really remember the last time I sat so quietly for so long at least without doing someting else like writing or doom scrolling or, most accurately, falling asleep.
“I wonder if they’re talking about you.”
My mind, with nothing better to do, offers up this idiotic thought and suddenly the birdsongs seem more like sirens alerting the forest to potential danger or at least the presence of someone not from the neighborhood.
“That’s silly,” I think, followed by, “are they?”
Realizing my shoulders have creeped up close to my ears, I roll them back and down, stretch my neck to one side and then the other and then I try to assume my most serene and non-threatening body posture and facial expression.
Little by little, the forest and I both seem to relax.
My husband talks about going into the woods with a question, posing it to the trees, letting it marinate along the path and often coming out with an answer. He admits it sounds more than a little woo-woo and potentially ridiculous, but he also swears it can work.
I’d never actually tried it. I usually forget. This time, though, I remembered and immediately realized I had no idea where to start.
“You have a lot of questions,” my mind unnecessarily pointed out. “Maybe you should….”
“…Pick one,” I interrupted myself. “Yes. I know.”
“I mean you’re pretty far into the….”
“The forest,” I finished, “I know.”
“You seem a little…”
“Nuts. Yes. This seems nuts but I would just like to stop all the thinking and worrying about tasks and to-do lists and all of that stuff just for a second.”
“Can’t help you there,” my brain deadpanned.
And then I did something that can silence even the most pesky of thoughts: I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I didn’t bother asking the trees any questions. I just listened to the birds and the breeze and the buzzing things.
Focusing on being still, I sat for what seemed like a very long time. I congratulated myself on my ability to slow down and “adopt the pace of nature.” Then, I picked up my phone and realized I had only been sitting there for about 10 minutes.
“That’s embarrassing,” my mind offered quietly.
I had to agree but I also had to acknolwedge: It still did the trick.
As I stood up to continue my stroll down the path, I was aware that any feelings of stress or concern had given way to a greater sense of calm and peace.
It didn’t last long.
“What was that?” My whole body was suddenly on alert.
“Hush,” I thought and stopped in my tracks. Something else did too. I caught the slightest movement out of the corner of my eye.
Slowly and carefully I turned to see a sweet little deer cautiously peeking back at me through the trees.
“Ohhhh,” I thought.
“Don’t scare him,” my brain instructed.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I protested, “but also I think it might be too late for that.”
We just stared, held in a moment together — each trying to get a better look and wondering what the other one might do next.
After another stretch of time that seemed far longer that it was, the little deer went on its way and I went on mine — noticing there was a whole other squad munching leaves up around the bend. I padded quietly along the trail but they eventually sensed my approach and, like their little pal, hightailed it to higher ground.
“It’s okay, friends,” I whispered. “I’m on my way.”
Leaving the woods and its creatures to head back to my own home, I thought again about the reasons I went there in the first place and about whether you really can find any answers out there among the trees.
That’s when it happened.
“Wonderful things will find you.” The thought landed softly, like a leaf, as I approached the edge of the woods. Another gently followed.
“Don’t worry so much.”
This story originally appeared in my column in the May 16, 2024 edition of the Perry Herald in Perry, NY.
Oh how I loved this one. The first thing I told my husband today, pre-coffee, his eyes hardly open, was -- "I can't stop thinking and it's not even 6am." I think I'll go sit in my own woods and see what wonderful things may find me.
Perfect read, for me, as I had been contemplating the rather tumultuous, past week. This carried me away - reminding me that I can make the opportunity to do what you were doing in this essay, or I can sit around and "stew" about the negative things that are already past. Sometimes I get removed from that which is tranquil.