In the woods, there is curiosity. You follow a trail and see where it goes.
You’re amazed at the wild discoveries—mushrooms growing by the foot of the trees, three-leaf clovers that look like butterflies, the speckled bird whose call punctuates every minute, a young apple holding a drop of dew, moths chomping an entire plant over three days. A wild dog appears out of nowhere and begins walking alongside you. You don’t mind the company. You smile at the stranger who waits for you to pass on the narrow path lining the valley. He is returning from work. You are just strolling, visiting his home. When you hear the sound of a stream from somewhere far off, you walk toward it without hesitation.
In the woods, you let things happen to you.
But in the life back in the city, you resist uncertainty. You live in a city humid with fear that is eroding your intuition.
You are always calculating. You want to move from point A to B, expecting to move to point C. You map out your days, filling them with lists and schedules, trying to tame the wildness of time, trying to control every outcome. You care about efficiency. You want to harness the flow of life, to bottle the wind, to predict the unpredictable. You learn to second-guess, to analyze and overthink, until your mind becomes clouded. You wake each day to the hum of the city, its rhythm overpowering your own, and one day you forget what your voice sounds like.
It is strange that in this place where everything was created by your own species—built by hands, drawn up by human minds, where nothing existed naturally—has turned you into a more fearful person. Something to think about?
Yet, in the woods, you accept what comes your way. A fallen branch might block your path, and you simply climb over it, or perhaps you turn back, finding a new trail. In life—something blocking your way—feels catastrophic. You question yourself, your decisions, and your future, as if you should have known better, as if you should have predicted it.
Can you bring the woods to the city?
Can you resist the urge to resist the natural order of things?
Can you trust yourself a little?
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I’m writing this from Sparrow’s Song Cottage in Fagu. I’ve been here on an artist residency for 5 days, walking and writing, and repeating the cycle as many times. This essay is a reminder to self, for the times I’m bogged down by uncertainty.
This was an eye opener, how beautifully you linked the two worlds! ❤️