The sun was up and the weather was warm, and I was fleeing the city again for a hike into the woods. I walk into the deepest woods, through thicket and underbrush to seek for solitude and a tiny shred of peace from the everyday mayhem of our world. And it never ceases to astound me how fast all the ruckus subsides as soon as you pass that threshold, subtle, yet distinguished, that last frontier of sense.
For in the forest it is that there indeed is violence, and injustice, and the strong prey on the weak... but all in a complex coherence of sense. Not in an arbitrary and mad manner, but to ultimately propel the wheel of life and creation. There is a room for violence as well as beauty, there is peace alongside the fox hunting the hare. I often think that there are dangers involved in treading the solitary paths I tread-but I think I´d prefer being eaten by some unknown predator or wild pig to living a life amidst all these hipster management types. At least they won´t make a fuss out of it and have a genuine reason;-). But I don´t want to focus on that, for the silence is deep and peace and solitude always do their job on me.
Through sun-enchanted woods I walked, and came across that fire road. Here in the shadow it was cold, and it was for once to be felt that it is actually December. Other than that it could be barely felt that we have winter. I was walking in a T-Shirt and a light jacket and even so built up a sweat!
But it became dark early, and I welcomed the twilight...
Along those green meadows to the wide open space beyond the forest...
...and where I suspected it the least...
...behind a thicket there was a tiny hunter´s path, nearly overgrown, and there it was: An obviously well-maintained and cared-for cabin, well stocked with firewood. I´d love to have one for myself...
...but fact is, I have none and won´t be able to afford one in the first place. So I put that thought into my mental drawer labelled "dreams" and went on my merry way;-).
The woods...
...have always been enough. And when twilight falls, I am right there, at home. When the wind moves through the soft treetops of spruce and fir, my cradle song I hear...
...and my heart is soothed, however searing my wound had been beforehand.
