It was getting late in the day by the time I headed out for my walk today. Although it wasn’t raining, everything was dripping. The sky seemed brighter, somehow, despite the gray, as more of it was visible through the branches of the maples. The ground was strewn with leaves, mostly brown, with an assortment of bright yellow spotted Big Leaf Maple leaves strewn about for color. There was no red to be seen, although there were still bright white berries along the side of the path.
My inner landscape is changing, like the landscape around me. As I walk these woods, and walk further along the path of embodiment, I am aware of more sensation each time. As I annoint my senses with the balm of attention, my receptors wake up, and become more sensitive, more alive. Moving my body in new and challenging ways is enlarging my proprioceptive awareness; I am seeing it in my posture, and in my gait, and in my balance. My sense of touch, my sense of smell, all seem a bit more acute lately, as the practice of presence begins to retrain my nervous system.
It is this sense of sensory depth that I bring with me, into the woods today. I am struck by how lively and bushy the mosses and lichens on the trees seem. They must come into their own, at this time of year. The skies open up and let in both light and rain, soaking them to their ancestral cores. I take my time, today, and look around more, looking for detail, actively drinking up my experience.
When I arrive at the stand of Doug Fir, I pause and listen for a while. There are few birds, and those up high and distant and invisible. The rain sounds different here, under the dark branches that speak of eternity and timelessness. I don’t know how long I stood there, trying to sense other life in the woods. It is strange to be in a wood in a city, where the sounds of traffic are never very far, and I wonder sometimes if I am alone. I feel sentience, here, although it very well may be the trees.
I begin again, to head down to the bottoms, and I come across a trail I have never seen before. I feel compelled to explore it, and find a stand of cedars and a well traveled trail. I wonder if this is the way to the lake, and begin moving along it. Under the cedars, I remember to look up at the sky. The color has a lot more slate in it now, and I realize that I could easily get lost heading down a brand new trail at the tail end of the afternoon. Memories of losing my way begin to be triggered in the associations of my mind, and the ominous music of a thousand horror movies begins to play in my inner ear. I recognize that my amygdala is taking the reins, and breathe deeply as I try to regain my center. I retrace my steps back to the main trail, the trail I have taken before, and I feel a sense of relief when I find it. It is still dark here, although more familiar, and I am struck with a strong urge to run up the trail.
I move with swift purpose up the trail, until the trees thin out and the sky opens back up. I stop for a moment, and look around again, surprised by how much light is still available, out where the grasses and the blackberry thicket are. The visibility and the open space calm my sympathetic nerves, and I laugh a little at myself, for letting my fears get the better of me.
I look back along the trail, which looks more like a cave or a tunnel than anything else at this time. I breathe deeply of the cool autumn air, and feel the adrenaline rush begin to abate. I may have overreacted a bit, as sympathetic nervous system commandeered my body today, but I know that it was telling me something important, about being out in the woods, alone, at dusk. I think that my next walk is definitely going to start earlier in the day.
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