Trees and Sky, Earth and Air

After weeks of wet weather, with grey skies and mud squelching and slippery underfoot, I have enjoyed a series of dry, sunny days. Above my woodland home, the sky was that deep blue that we see sometimes. The forest floor dried out and a visit from the local surveyor confirmed the borders of my stewardship privileges, allowing me to venture down the hill into places where I had not gone before.

I spent hours in the forest with work gloves and a bottle of water. I was clearing a walking and ski trail down the lower slope of the hill and connecting to the trail I had made higher up. The work was wonderfully taxing. I reached and pulled, hauled heavy branches off to the side and stretched down over and over again to pick up sticks and bits of fallen wood that otherwise create tripping hazards for the unwary walker. The goal was to create a clear path for trouble free progress through the forest, allowing any who venture here to enjoy the land's grace and beauty, to commune with the beautiful natural world around them without having to worry about where they are stepping or how to get past yet another obstruction.

Forests are constantly evolving. Branches fall from high up in the canopy, breaking other branches as they fall. Trees age and shed small twigs and branches as a natural part of their life cycle. Places that were fairly dry can become saturated in a very wet year, killing some species of trees. These then fall heavily, often taking neighbouring trees with them. The grey birches in particular seem to be suffering in the woodland that I steward. Many lie rotting on the forest floor, white and black against the red brown of the leaf litter that otherwise covers the ground. I love nothing more than to be in the midst of all this living and dying, witness to it, in acceptance, in appreciation, in deepest gratitude for the privilege of being a part of this place. 

The air was very dry after three days of north wind and high skies. In the November woods, the browns were dominant, but large ledges of exposed rock shone silver-blue in the bright sunlight and the mosses glowed a rich soft green, like velvet at Christmastime. Hemlock trees grow in abundance in that part of the woodland; their fragance filled my nose. My body was wholly immersed in the sunlight and shadows, the stretch and bend and bend again. Later, when I came inside and sat by candlelight, I saw again the colours, experienced again the dry, slightly spicy smell of the hemlock, the blue of the sky. And I was cleansed by this immersion. Rinsed clear in my consciousness. Swept free of all my debris just as I had swept the tender mosses free of the leaves that clogged and crowded them.

When we fill our awareness with wide vistas of hill and mountain, tangle of creek valley and sweep of sky, we free ourselves from so much clutter and crush, crisis and metaphoric cliff-edge. We seem to soar above our usual concerns. We empty.

I sat for a time, on one of those outcroppings of rock in the sunlight. The silence was total. My body was tired and the insistent ache of my muscles kept my mind from its customary chatter. I would love to experience more of this silence, more immersion in the totality of a moment's sensory offerings. Remembering as I do that I choose to be here, in this world, in a body, surrounded by smells and sights, feelings and sounds. I choose to celebrate the richness of life's experiential offerings without the constant labeling and judgements of the mind.

It is not necessary to be in the forest to achieve this. I have immersed myself in the feel of the flour as I made my bread, or the taste of the apple as I crunched it between my teeth. In the city, the textures and colours are as rich and inviting as they are in my woodland. In fact, there is a bit of an embarassment of riches in the city. We become a bit numb sometimes as a way of coping with the constant sensory stimulation surrounding us. We slide underneath it sometimes, as a way of coping. Stillness, internal silence, slowing of one's pace - all of these can bring us back into the grace of the world. Trees and sky, earth and air make it simple. Breathing deeply calls us into the quiet.

Breathe deeply. Feel what is under your fingers. See what presents itself before you. Smell the air, feel its moisture or dryness. Taste that apple. Hear the sounds that the world is making. Court your own quietness so that you can experience the answering quiet in the moment.

Then savor life's sweetness and wander the world at will.