
08/02/2025
A Walk in My Woods
There is a parade at my house today.
Well not at my house and certainly not for me, but you catch my drift.
The jubilation of so many gathering is something I cannot relate to anymore.
So I head to my mountain.
Well, my mountain is a hill to you but a goal I conquered and now each time I return, it gets easier to climb.
I had to learn to go slow.
Maybe you were taught that, but I wasn't.
I used to go as fast as I could trying to cover as much ground as possible before needing to take a long break to catch my breath. Racing as fast as I could thinking there was something at the end worth running to.
I hadn't realized it just left me out of breath and unable to enjoy the world around me.
A world of hushed stillness in a shadowed wood, welcoming me into her depths, comforting me.
Sunbeams blinking through the tree line, as I make my way up the path.
I touch the trees as I pass, thanking them for their steadiness, their reliability, their consistency, their love.
A column of light illuminates the last slope before reaching the top in recognition of another victory achieved on my mountain.
I've been walking this path a few times a month since late winter, trying to replace broken memories made here with new joyful ones, and for a time I did.
But now, as I enter my wood of shrouded shadows, there is a hunger that thunders through my chest,
a sadness that won't surrender me from its clutches.
While much has changed, both in me and the landscape...flowers both in bloom and dying in the mid summer heat..
The emptiness.
the void.
remains.
This darkness at my core, weighs me down
a churning within I cannot name.
ever-present, never relenting.
I can't remember a time without it.
It pressures me to make choices that temporarily fill the void. a quick fix.
something to staunch the flow,
stop the leak,
put the bandaid on,
not addressing the underlying damage.
But the Band-Aids can't witness my tears or my darkness.
The quick fixes don't want all of me.
They only want the happy parts that serve them compassion and empathy.
The parts that hold them,
not the parts that need holding.
Only the trees bear witness to my devastation.
Only the trees can appreciate the beauty of My tear stained face.
I release the pressure of my waves
with a walk in my woods.