Into the woods I go to lose my mind and find myself.
Each morning, when the household begins to fizz and erupt into the action of a new day, smells of coffee waft and noises of screens and the shower and doors that are banged loudly.. I quietly slip outside in walking shoes and bed hair in search of own my quiet self. I leave my home so that I can hear the whispers and gentle nudges of my own soul.
Some days I traverse the cities parks. Here I remember I am part of this concrete place in the familiarity of stone pathways and victorian buildings, in the familiar faces and sweet dogs I meet. Where flowers are contained in neat borders with short grasses. Where order and rythm direct our choices.
Other days I go down to the river to marvel at the blue vegas nerve of the city.. How threads through the places it meets, transmuting chaos into calm moments of unexpected awe.
Other days I drive to a hill for far away views that remind me I am a crumb in this universe.
My favourite place to walk is through the woods, where I am cocooned and held in the warm hug of the mossy tree trunks and foliage that reaches out to stroke my cheek. The comfort of mulchy leaves beneath my feet and the scent of earthly decay in my nostrils.
Today in the woods the sun is bright and low. It casts shadows as long as its own rays. I crossed the threshold at the twisted gate and this city woodland becomes a world all of its own. Of our own.
I greet the sky grazing guardian beech trees and find the ancient oak, cathedral like alone in a clearing. I whisper my welcomes to these old friends. I rest my forehead at their gnarled knees in reverence before I continue my pilgrimage.
Between younger trees with spindly trunks, spiders have spun intricate webs. They make the ether visible with its shimmer like a mirage. Silvery doorways to other worlds. Here in the woods we are closer than ever to touching something unseen. Unconquerable.
My feet track the wending pathway through the woods.. flanked by tree ents like soldiers awaiting orders. This is where Tolkien came when he wrote Lord of the Rings, and I can almost pick out the faces and personalities he met here too. I let my fingers trace the fronds of lichen that piggy back on wood like seaweed attaches to rock in pools on the beach.
I take a pause when I cross a bridge... and I am always crossing bridges. I cast my eyes down towards the dark waters of this boggy land. Leaves seem to be suspended, wrinkling the silky surface as though this isn't water at all, but something thicker. Something that might consume. That sticks to the throat and covers the nose and coats your entire being.
Peering down beyond the floating leaves, and into the underworld, down down to depths of where Persephone was removed to. I see a familiar face peering back at me. The same and different still.
Above her head are trees like mine. The whole world a perfect mirror. No Edges. No beginning or end. The depths of nature and the gods. The very pit of me. Walking about replicated like a dark doopleganger underneath.
As I step off the wooden bridge my shadow twin walks silently with me. Just how I like it. No one else's thoughts and chatter to distract us both. Just our own quiet argument over the light and the dark.
The sun shines into the wood, trying in these last days to brighten the way, but misguidedly creates as much shadow as light. This is the way of autumn. Autumn too is a bridge between one and the other. The light and the dark. They say the veil is thin and I know that this is why my dark sister accompanies me today. We are in equilibrium.
She brings with her a sisterhood of mothers and daughters and friends. I see them between long grasses for a moment. Climbing out of the webbed portals in the periphery. They swish long skirts through the trees with woven baskets looking for treasure.
They call to me in birdsong...
Feast and fatten for some
The light will soon be overcome.
Feed girl. Make your self strong.
Winters coming and it'll be long
The branches are laden thick
Berries and acorns, don't miss a trick
Don't forget to spread joy and laugh
Along this hallowed autumnal path
The foliage and branches curve around the pathway, and i’m guided by the light that shines at the end of the tunnel.
Neither here nor there.. I am the mulch underfoot, the webs in the trees. I am the still waters and the round round pebbles grown smooth over a millennia of tumbling in the water. I too am here to soften my spikey edges and grow round.
Winter is coming the Forest women sing to me.
How much freedom there is here before there and gone from past.
There is much bounty and beauty in the liminal. In a way, these will be the days I return to. I know it. In my mind over and over. I know how strange and wild these days will seem. I know my place is to let joy in. Feast and fatten for the hard days ahead.
In the woods we do not get out without going through. We do not find the light if we have not looked into our own shadowy mirror. Here contains everything we need in our evolution. Our job is to see, to eat the whole world and then grow in this crysalis of transformation. To live here and now in the between. Before we step into the sun again.
