I park my car next to a small snowbank of fresh snow, and see large footprints that head into the forest that start at my car. They looked like they were made by snowshoes. Someone had the same idea as me. I turn off my car, and get my snowshoes attached, then start off following the tracks. The tracks happen to be where I am going, so I'm not exactly following them, it's just a coincidence.
My snowshoes grip the snow like massive claws, allowing me to move quite quickly in the 9 inch fluff that had fallen the day before. I have owned snowshoes for a while, but this is the first season I have actually used them, and now I cannot stop. It is almost dusk, and the sun is casting a golden shimmer on the snow covered trees. A single bird chirps off in the distance, but besides that, my footsteps are the only source of noise here.
I make my way deeper into the forest, and I see both large and small animal tracks besides the snowshoe tracks. I look up to the top of a hill, and I see the golden glow of the setting sun emerging from behind the peak, casting this beautiful light on all the trees on top of the hill. I wanted to be one of those trees bathed in this glorious light.
I begin to make my way up the hill, my eyes set on the beautiful scene that I am about to be a part of. My snowshoes dig into the side of the hill with effectiveness. If I ignore the man-made metal attachments strapped to my feet, it almost feels like I am a wolf, and my prey is the sun.
The chill of the afternoon air no longer has any effect on me. Heat radiates off my body, and every exhale seems to make a thicker cloud in the frigid air. I reach the top of the hill, and I am immediately hit in the face with the setting sun. It is blinding, and I have to bring my mitten up to shield my eyes so I can look at the landscape spread out below. Closing my eyes, I turn my face up to the sun and feel it warming my skin. My body is filled with warmth at this point, and the contrast between this cold landscape and my warmth is exhilarating.
Voices travel through the trees, and I immediately turn my head in the direction of the sound. Two seconds later, I start tracing my steps back in the direction that I came. My heart is beating just a little bit faster as I travel down the hill at a steady pace.
I am reminded of when I was younger and I used to wander these woods all the time when it was warmer out. This place isn't a park of any kind, it is just some woods near a pond next to an old textile factory. People take walks around the pond, but the woods stretching out behind it are generally not traveled as much. The only people I have seen in these woods are myself and friends, one person walking a dog, and dirt bikers. The dirt bikers I had grown to fear as a child. I would be wandering around by myself or with friends, and then the revving of a dirt bike would sound in the distance and it would send us running, fear coursing through our veins.
I'm not sure why this had quite an effect on me/us, but dirt bikes and any sign of activity in these woods in particular made me uneasy. I hike by myself quite often, but this was different. This place is right near and old factory with graffiti that stretches across its concrete walls. There is barely any of this structure left, but this place seems to draw in kids who were looking for a place to escape. On hiking trails in parks, generally people are there to hike with a few outliers who may be up to something on their own agenda. This place though, this place isn't defined by anything. You could have dirt bikers, snowshoers, troubled kids, people walking with their dogs... Anything. Nothing bad has ever been reported here, but still the undefined nature of these woods both exhilarated and unnerved me. To me, this place always seemed to me a lawless land where dangers are more real than anywhere else.
I reach the old factory which is just a few minutes walk from my parked car. I have always loved the look of this dilapidated structure that has been taken over by the flora and fauna. I sit and sink down into the snow, perched on top of one of the concrete walls. The concrete walls and floor is covered in a blanket of snow, which somehow makes such a harsh space look gentle, clean, and bright. The angry, sad, and angst-filled graffiti is softened by the snow, almost like the souls who poured their emotions into these walls were getting an embrace from mother nature herself.
When the snow melts, the spray paint will remain on the walls, and mother nature's embrace will wait until next year. This cycle will continue until the walls are torn down or the atmosphere can no longer create snow. Without the walls, what will the snow embrace here? Without the snow, who will embrace these pockets of need? Nature will always find someone in need of her, it is up to us to nurture her so she will stay.
There is no wind. The trees are motionless, and deadly silent. It is so silent that I do not want to move an inch in fear of breaking this mesmerizing trance-like lull. People say the sublime can be found in a grand mountainous expanse, a limitless horizon over an ocean, and a dazzling night sky. I have felt the sublime in all of these. I also think that this indescribably awe in our world can also be found at any moment, wherever you are. It can be found in stillness.
Especially in nature, stillness can be an incredibly both grounding and transcendental experience. Sitting on this perch, I let my body feel gravity pull it to the earth. I let my shoulders rise and fall with my breath, and feel myself separate my consciousness from this essential bodily need. Air passes in and out of me as easily as it fills the spaces in-between the branches of a tree. I let myself become merged with the land that surrounds me. I feel myself rooted to the ground like the trees that surround me, and the cement that is settled in the earth. When I practice this feeling of stillness and merging with my surroundings, I feel so incredibly light. I am no longer a character in the scene, I am the scene - And this scene is mother nature herself. I have taken myself out of the role of being a passenger though this land and I instead feel the power and oneness of the trees, the lake, the clouds, the air, the grass, the snow, and anything else sharing this stillness with me.
The stillness fills me with a feeling of immense strength. Dirt bikers and voices in the woods lose their foreboding presence, and I am left with the feeling of calmness, new perspective, and strength.
We can be creative in where we find our strength. I am a believer that nature is an immense strength that we can learn to lean on, and become merged with. Nature can be dangerous, but never corrupt. People like to create horror movies in dark woods, and stories pop up of people doing terrible crimes in the cover of the trees. It is important to remember that these things also happen plentifully everywhere, and it is not the woods that is the source of this negative energy, it is humanity that creates it there. I believe, and so do many, that the natural world has the power to heal us, if we let it. By slowing down and allowing myself to become immersed in stillness, I have found that my connection with the natural world has deepened immensely.
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