Twirling in a Winter Wood

Something deep inside me was awakened. An old self, long ignored, acknowledged. Play was the pathway to this connection.

When I was just a little girl I would get up in the morning, don my dress-up play clothes and inform my mother I was no longer Jill but Mary Ann and that I was going to work and play was my work.

When did I forget this truth?

The other evening nearing dark, I felt the familiar call of woodland trails nearby but this time it was different. With my whole self, I responded.

Upon entering the wood, I always, always go right. Right takes me on a lovely walk through winding trails and I am never sorry that I’ve gone there. The rote-ness of it soothes me when my nerves are feeling life- jangled. This evening though, I knew I needed to go left. I wasn’t sure why but felt like I needed to reconcile something within that going along on my ordinary way would not serve.

And so, I trusted this and I turned left and walked along the snow trodden path, seeing, at first, one trail turning off into the wood to the right. I did not take it--nor the second further along but followed where the foxes led me, their paw prints the only ones to have broken this less used (by humans) portion of the wood before me.

I walked along and soon could see something low, across my way. I slowly slid my boot along it and realized it was a snow- covered, fallen tree. Ahead a short way past this, I found myself deep- ducking down into an almost crawl under the fallen sprawl of another tree, this one large and snagged, across my path.

My steps took on a playful quality. Something in the ducking under felt oddly fun and made me recall the endless hours of my childhood spent racing, leaping, ducking through these woods and the small woods behind where I now live.

In every direction I looked I saw no sign of human footprints. Only squirrel and hare and fox prints scattered about. The snow at my feet, so deep it covered the full foot of my thick soled, tall winter boots. Like when I was a child, walking in snow of this depth felt so amazing. A sudden rush arose within me and I grabbed a slender evergreen and snow-stomped, twirling around it.

Will I feel dizzy from this? I wondered knowing I no longer twirl like my former dancer/ gymnast self once did.

I wasn’t. Instead, I felt more alive than I had in some time.

The next thing I knew it was like I was square-dancing but my partners were all these gorgeous, slender trees and the music was my own heart beating to the cool, clear song of the woods on this winter’s eve.

A sudden rush arose within me and I grabbed a slender evergreen and snow-stomped, twirling around it.

Side to side, softly stepping into the unbroken snow around the base of all these lovely trees. Here we go,--do-si-do.

I turned around to glance at the evidence of my strange meanderings and realized darkness was very near and I should be heading home. On my way back, another trail beckoned and since my business here didn’t feel finished yet, I went in a short way.

This section, well used by other trail walkers, passes through a part of the wood filled with a low growth of young evergreens and this evening they were all powdered- sugar coated with a depth of pure white snow. I stood in the darkening silence of this little wood I know so well and recognized it for what it was for me just then--a safe container to explore a return to playfulness in this place which holds a lifetime of memories for me.

In gratitude for the dance we'd just shared, I slowly reached a mittened hand out to pull myself in closer to one of the evergreen’s trunks. I placed my very human face upon it, and let the moment soak into me.

Bark on skin. Human and tree. First one side, then another with no space in between us. I felt myself dissolve into the deep dive of true connection. No thought intruded but awareness of sensations.

I next removed my mittens and crouched down on the trail and cupped some snow into a ball within my hands. Like a candle, I held that ball, living prayer it was and felt the cold burn as the energy of my tingling hands began to melt the outer layer. Stay with it, stay with it I told myself and I did. I stayed with the sensations of melting snow while it dripped like wax on this little winter woodland altar I was bowed down in reverence to. And then I let it drop onto the snowy forest floor where it was consumed like a flame by the soft snow around it.

I slowly reached a mittened hand out to pull myself in closer to one of the evergreen’s trunks. I placed my very human face upon it, and let the moment soak into me.

Now I could leave. Now I could return home. My work here this day was done and

I bid farewell to the last of daylight and made my way back towards my family’s home.

Thanks for reading.

Wishing you a sense of playfulness this day!

Be well,

Jill