There is a silence and a stillness as I enter the woods.
Yet, it’s not as if it’s quiet.
I can still hear the rumble of a distant car, the drone of an airplane, the peep of a bird, the hum of a mosquito, the crack of a twig.
Maybe it’s more the feeling of silence and stillness. A waiting, a hush that seems to surround me.
Because I know the woods are neither still nor silent. There’s a whole world of activity and noise, most of which I can’t see or hear.
Yet it’s worlds apart from the noise and busyness of us humans in the environments we have created for ourselves.
Maybe it’s something about time.
I tend to think time is slower in the woods. But that’s not right either.
I know how quickly mushrooms can grow, how fast a chipmunk can run, how slow a slug moves, or how long it takes certain trees to grow.
Maybe it’s that in the woods, each being has its own clock. Content to exist within its own sense of time.
Unlike the measured time we humans have created for ourselves and everything around us to adhere to in order to fit into society. Even if it might feel unnatural to us.
Maybe in the woods, I’m finding my own sense of time and it alters how I hear and move when I’m there.
So exquisite. It brought me to tears. A good release. Nature, even if just reading about another’s experience, I find so healing.
Yes, Barb, it’s healing in so many ways. I’m glad you found it so.
Anytime spent in the woods is a refreshing and contemplative trip to an alternate reality. We are transformed when we emerge. What a beautiful essay. I hear you.
I know you do Peg. :)