We humans seem to have built into us an attraction to what is bad for us, but have you ever given a moment's thought to the times you are intuitively drawn to that which is good for you?
For me, besides healthy eating which my oft cantankerous digestive system requires, woods walking is something I am drawn to like a bear to honey. My wellness barometer seems to require increasingly frequent forays into wooded landscapes in order to maintain my equilibrium. And I am noticing that the more mindful I am during these forest walks, the better I feel upon my return home to family cares and household responsibilities.
There are several small woodlands I frequent quite near my home and each of them were woods I spent considerable time in during my childhood, building forts, playing an elaborate group hide and seek--team tag game involving almost every kid in the neighbourhood, or simply walking and bike riding through trails. In my later teen years I would pack my writing notebook and water bottle and spend time writing forest poetry or sorting through my thoughts in summer and snow shoeing in winter with my then boyfriend (and now husband and frequent trail companion).
I have a long history of being in love with the woods.
A great present joy of mine is walking these trails with our kids. Last year our youngest was not able to walk with us for a long time due to a very serious knee injury. Her return to trail walking has been a beautiful one although marred by pneumonia in recent weeks. This winter our son is unable to go on walks due to an injury he is awaiting surgery for so I am realizing that it has been a while since all of us have gotten out together.
That said, our oldest daughter and I have been walking just the two of us as often as we can forge the space to do so. It's strange walking without the laughter and cavorting of the other two kids leading the way and we miss them and will welcome their gradual return but we are finding our own rhythm and it is one I value deeply.
Just the thought that I have the good fortune of walking with my newly twenty year old daughter, watching her marvel about the snowshoe hare tracks (she has two adopted domestic rabbits at home) and seeing the incredibly gentle way she interacts with any dogs we might meet walking along the trail is heartwarming during what has been a long, difficult time in her young life.
When we are walking in the woods there is an increased sense of spaciousness between us. A freedom rises up in me as we follow the well trodden trail system. I don't have to lead the way or even know exactly which trail we will go on, the decisions will be made as the need arises. And every choice holds the real potential of beauty.
Late the other afternoon we took one of my sister's along on her last day off in between finishing one job and beginning another. She hadn't been on the trails with us in winter time and marveled at the quiet beauty of the woods. Walking with someone new grants new perspectives on the paths you frequent. Looking up she spotted bright orange witches jelly on a spruce snag. Later we three paused in awe of the way the late afternoon sun penetrated the undergrowth, gleaming golden rays on the snow covered, young evergreens. The walk was exactly what my dear sister needed to help her trust in the new life path she has chosen to undertake.
And interestingly a late walk yesterday afternoon had a strange foreboding quality to it.
We had been in Charlottetown on errands and had a supper of root veggies awaiting in pots at home for our return. An impending storm system most likely would prevent us from walking the next day so despite tiredness and hunger we decided to head out. We were not into the woods any distance when we noticed that we were the first to break the trail since the earlier snow fall of several inches. Strange that no one else had been through since then but we continued on. It was still quite overcast out and therefore the trail seemed darker, as though the trees themselves had crouched their shoulders down over us. And silent.
Not only were there no animal tracks (squirrel, hare, mice) evident, there were no forest sounds of any sort save the soft thuds of our footfalls and swoosh of our winter gear.
Did the woods know something we didn't?
Deeper we walked in near silence, winding past familiar trail heads and closer to our usual turn off. Like an unwelcome hand on my shoulder I felt a chill settling in akin to the darkness I knew was not far off.
Why did I feel so alone on this trail today--this trail which I shared so many happy hours with family and friends? Had I brought the world's weight in with me?
We rounded a corner ducking under a half fallen snag of evergreen when my daughter commented on the cold. It was a deeper cold then we had felt on recent walks. A still and ominous cold. The kind that stiffens and does not sort itself out from walking through it. The cold which enters and remains.
I agreed but made light of it, realizing now that we were in too deep to turn around towards the assured warmth of home and that our intention to snip some apple sticks for our rabbits to help them weather the storm hadn't been fulfilled yet and we were nearing the apple grove.
And then in what seemed an instant we were out of the forest trail and onto the plowed access road to the nearby farm fields. The opening the bright road provided gave an unexpected relief to the cold and turning towards the apple grove we came upon a dog walker and his handsome pup we had met earlier in the week.
Franklin, a well trained but excitable dog was no more bothered by the cold, the dwindling light nor the impending weather; nor was his kind owner.
Something had shifted and I recognized immediately that the shift was entirely within me.
After gathering enough apple sticks from the snowy Narnia-esque grove beneath the road we made our way uphill and back to the little trail in the woods.
The return was just as cold and obviously the light was still lessening but the walk home was different because something had brightened and warmed within me.
The friendly pup and walker's tracks tromped over the little boot marks we had made upon our first walk through. We followed along them almost exactly until it was our time to turn back to home.
Unwrapping once we got into our warm entry felt so good. So too did knowing a nourishing supper of root veggies and cranberry sauce, roasted chickpeas and a thick homemade veggie gravy was awaiting us all.
Good food, and woods walks in winter are part and parcel of keeping my body and soul together in a world which wants to splinter and fracture us at too many turns. Keeping mindful of my own internal landscape and how I project onto and reflect the world is a powerful personal ally in well being.
Happy mid- Winter and Happy Trails be they Wooded or Otherwise!
In warmth,
Jill MacCormack
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