Welcome to my landscape and mindscape INTO THE WOODS. What you find here is peopled, weathered, and storied by the whispers of old trees. I walk quietly into the woods to feel better, to ease the uneasiness in my heart and mind, to remember and reflect. I walk into the woods to discover my wellspring of creativity, intuition, and wisdom. That’s also why I write.
The whispers of old trees are in my memories and dreams, my everyday experiences, the silence between the rumbles, the shadows real and imagined, my longings and protracted heartbreaks, everyday moments and entanglements, and the landscape of home and not-so-faraway places. I write about the whispers to gain knowledge about myself, to contemplate my world view, to survey my life, to confront what is real for me and make some sense of it. This is my place to listen.
My blog entries are reflections of what I find in the wooded landscape, my mindscape, and the whispers there, literally and figuratively — in the knots and textures of the wood, the faces in the bark, the light through the canopy, the shadows of the trunks, and the community of trees. The woods are animated with the stories, events, scenes, motions, and emotions of my life. I walk into the woods to remember and reclaim what I’ve lost, what I’ve let go, what I’ve held onto, and what I want to take with me as I make the turn into my sixth decade of life.
I observe the marks, tracks, trails, and passages of the wooded landscape, my mindscape, and the journey of my life. I listen to the singing birds, the rushing and trickling streams, and all the whispers of Earth and Spirit. Being present to the air, solid objects, light and shadows, colors, and textures of the physical landscape puts me in touch with my mental landscape, where my memories and dreams reside, where my melancholy and optimism rest and awaken, and where my gratitude grows.
A walk into the woods reminds me that there’s always more to know and feel. As long as I have breath, there’s always more to listen for and learn from the whispers of old trees.
Peace of mind is worth any chore.
from the song “Still Believing,” sung by Mary Black, words by Thom Moore