Going into the Woods

I wish I could find the words to explain the feelings and thoughts that pass through your head when you hike through the Redwood forest.

One of my closest friends speaks about vast empty spaces with a kind of wistfulness. He struggles to explain the emotions is brings up in him when he pictures barren deserts or huge empty rooms painted white with pale mid-afternoon light streaming in through vast windows. I think the feelings he has for vast space are what I have for forests.

I felt humbled, both by the sheer size of the trees, but also by their history. My life is a mere blip on their time-line. The woods are almost silent in reverence of that history. As you near the river, the bugs (and therefore the birds) start to buzz and chirp, but on the hills, every snap and crunch of human feet on twigs seems risky, as though the trees might wake up.

Every fallen tree brought up a great sadness at the loss of such a giant, but it quickly mixed with pride and amazement that every inch of the fallen trees were covered in mosses and clovers, even new trees starting to grow. The forest was very much alive, and I felt a strong connection to it as I hiked down the trail.

The emotions I felt in the woods ranged from sadness to anger to embarrassment to awe, joy, hope, and total, beautiful peace. Much like the emotions I feel on this trip. We’ve seen and experienced some amazing places and some terrible things, both. We’ve bonded and conflicted as a group, and settled into a familial groove, with all the bumps and laughs that come with family. We’ve been totally overwhelmed and totally exhausted by the entire experience, and we’re about ¼ of the way through it.

I couldn’t help but think about the famous Thoreau quote, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Ken asked us in the woods if any of us regretted the decision to do this trip. It’s not an easy road to take. The work is hard, the hours are long, the costs are high and the stress is...well, not easy to manage. But I don’t regret the decision. I’m glad I went into the woods, because if nothing else, I know that for these few weeks, I have truly lived, and lived deliberately.